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vavuska · 4 years ago

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Who changed Lola Bunny?

Malcolm D. Lee explained, “This is 2021. It’s important to reflect the authenticity of strong, capable female characters. … So we reworked a lot of things, not only her look, like making sure she had an appropriate length on her shorts and was feminine without being objectified, but gave her a real voice. For us, it was, ‘Let’s ground her athletic prowess, her leadership skills, and make her as full a character as the others.'”

(See the complete interview here: X)

So, gone are her curves, thigh-high drawstring shorts and midriff-baring crop top. Instead, Lola Bunny now takes on a sportier look wearing a more standard basketball vest and leggings under her track shorts.

But, let's see more deeply what determinated this choice:

1. Being mad at a fan art is sad, people.

Before, a sad 50 yo guy starts complaing about how "cancel culture" or "politically correct" ruined his life - Really? Changing a cartoon bunny from a movie you didn't see for a decade ruined your life? Wow. Someone should really review the list of their priorities -, let's see how really Lola looked in the 1996 original Space Jam.

Here we have original Lola Bunny:

(Here you can see all Lola's scenes in Space Jam: X)

Yes, Lola walked in a sexy way that show off her curves, or at least she seemed to have curves (a little breast, tight waist, long legs, bootie), but those are not big as in the fan art you are seeing around, and Lola's curves are not evidenced during the match or when she played. Is more her attitude and posture that made her look sexy. However, althought her curves clearly changes every time she is doing something different, from action to action, there are some scenes in which she is purposely made sexy, with saxophone music as soundtrack and male-gaze sections that ends in the same way, Lola surrounded by a bunch of horny and howling cartoon guys.

That's appropriate with Jessica Rabbit: she is purposely made and designed as a parody of the femme fatale from old hard boiler movies, in which attractive, mysterious women were portrayed as evil and manipulative gals who hide criminal intentions. Jessica, with her intentionally exaggerated body, subverted the misogyny of 40s and 30s detective movies: she is kind-hearted, truly loves her naive and goofy husband Roger and uses her powers (beauty and cunning) to protect him. Her body too is used for comic sketches, while this not happens for Lola, that's just a serious and indipendent basketball player. So, the male obsession for her body is out of place, expecially because she reacted with anger at being misconsidered only for being an attractive female bunny. “Don't call me doll” is her catch phrase. So, it seems strange she didn't react at all at the very sexualized presentation at the final basketball match: Lola simply shows her basketball skills, ignoring or accepting passively the reaction of the honey crowd of wolves around her. (Please, notice the association: Lola “admirers” are wolves, predators, while Lola, their object of desire, is a rabbit, a prey)

This is the cartoon version of cat calling: they are like a group of men who sit on their porches and whistle at girls everyday when they walk in from of them. A normal girl or woman would pass over this thing, even if they are bothered, unconfortable or embarassed, because they are more scared by a possible violent reaction of this whistling horny guys at their legitimate anger objections. But here, we are talking of Lola, a strong Looney Tunes bunny, and she could smash that damn basket ball on wolves' face, breaking all their teeth. That would be very a Looney reaction. But Lola doesn't react at all at this situation. Here, on my opinion, screenplayers missed an opportunity, but probably they thought to have already did too much with Lola's personality and “girl power”.

Remember also that Lola is the only young cartoon female character we see in the whole movie. So we can't do a proper comparison with other female relevant characters' rapresentation. (See here for a deeper analysis of Lola's origin and development: X)

However, compared with Bugs, Lola looks more fit, more humanized than Bugs. Lola has clearly a definited breast and booty, but it looks like is more her posture that makes them relevant. Lola has clearly shoulders back to show the rack. Bugs is anthropomorphic but remains an animal, has no shoulders or pectorals more like a human and looks a bit over-weight (fat belly). And his posture don't keep that stomach in, chin up, and march forward.

Lola, on the other hand, has a more human structure. That's why I say she has curves. An example are Mickey and Minnie who are two beans in the same way it is not that Mickey is a bean and Minnie has small tits, they are structurally alike.

Lola's body remembers highly No-Ribs-Jasmine from Aladdin (see the gif for reference). That unrealistic Barbie-like waist that was so popular in the 90s and 80s. (See here for references: X and X)

Now, we are changed a lot from the past 24 years. Barbies didn't have that impossible, unrealistic waist-line anymore, Disney princess concept has changed (see Merida and Moana).

Lola concept is changed in 2012: her design for the new cartoons is totally different and her personality too. She wear a blue or violet dress, almost flat-chested and she was made annoying and silly, just to make a contrast with Bugs smarter. Just like Daffy Duck is dumb as hell and his new girlfriend, Tina Russo (no more dear old Melissa Duck), is way smarter than him. Tina is tough, street-smart, rebellious and feisty. But we will see this thing in the next point.

2. People on the upper floors hated Lola personality.

Lola Bunny had only few lines in Space Jam, but she definitely passed the first impression that she was draw only for make male characters fall in love. Lola was a good basketball player and show it off, in front of a skeptical and then astonish bunch of cartoon guys and also Michael Jordan. She also had a strong personality and said it clear to Bugs she didn't like being called "doll". Lola was beauty and curvy, but not a cheerleader. Lola was a basketball player. Remember this part, because we will talk about basketball in the next point.

If at the box office Space Jam was a success, at Warner Bros there were those who turn up their noses, and they are important people, from the upper floors, who accused the film with Michael Jordan of having completely distorted the philosophy of the Looney Tunes. They blamed Lola Bunny more than everything else. Producers of Warner Bros said she was too perfect for the moody group of Warner cartoons: she was too sensual, provocative and independent, totally alien to that core of crazy characters that act as an exaggeration of the vices of 'man.

And fans hated her too. Chuck Jones, creator of the Merrie Melodies said: "Lola Bunny is a character with no future, she’s a totally worthless character with no personality."

So, Lola Bunny was deleted. Lola would make only some brief apparitions in some comics edited by DC Comics, in Baby Looney Tunes, in which she was a toddler with a very similar personality and resemblance to Space Jam adult version, and also as playable character in some unsuccessful videogames.

Years passed and projects for a sequel of Space Jam never become reality, so in 2003 Warner Bros relased Looney Tunes Back in Action. But Lola wasn't here, because the movie purposely want to make a deep cut with what we saw in Space Jam, according to what said it's director Joe Dante. This movie was a totally failure, but it gave back to Looney Tunes their craziness.

Years passed again, but this time is 2011, 10th of May on Cartoon Network was relased the second episode of The Looney Tunes Show. The series aimed to strongly relaunch the Looney Tunes, long gone from the glories of the past, updating the stories of Bugs Bunny and associates in a sitcom key, with the rabbit sharing a house with Daffy Duck in a suburb of Los Angeles. All interspersed with sketches by Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner done in CGI and the updated return of the Merrie Melodies. But the big news of the second episode is that LOLA BUNNY RETURNED.

And Lola was a character with some relevance within the series, even if something didn't seem right with her. Lola looked different, she was no longer the rabbit version of the femme fatale seen in Space Jam: she was naive, talkative, with her head in the clouds, crazy to the point of becoming Bugs Bunny's stalker. Bugs after having fallen in love with her at first glance understands on the first date that he absolutely can't stand Lola. She is no longer the Lola we used to know, even if the appearance is similar and the name is the same. Lola is effectively a Looney Tunes now. And the fans like her, the public like her, Warner Bros like her.

(See Lola in The Looney Tunes Show here: X)

But this is a big walk in behind from the indipent character we used to know in Space Jam. Lola was turned into the stereotype of the crazy girlfriend for a while. And this is not a surprise, if we remember that in 2012 were popular the "overly attached girlfriend" meme template. (See here for references: X)

However, in The Looney Toons Show Lola has some very funny moments, while in Space Jam she was more serious and a little out of space among the other characters. (See here for references: X)

3. What women wear when they play basketball?

Women's National Basketball Association was only created in 1996. So, women's basketball were not considered - and still is not considered - as important as men's basketball at the time Space Jam was filmed.

In Space Jam 2 there will be WNBA players with a significant role, for example Diana Taurasi and Nneka Ogwumike.

Professional female athletes aren't that curvy because curves are determined by body fat and they have a little.

As a busty volleyball player, I can say, dear people, breats could be very annoying during sport activities: it could be a pain, when you run or jump. That's because a lot of women wear sport bra to compress and support their breast. Sports bra may also include layered cups or a high neck to keep everything in place and protect from painful hits, so women can be safe and comfortable during workouts.

Female basketball players didn't wear crop-tops and tight shorts to play. They wear exactly what Lola wears in the picture above: long sleeveless tees, large shorts and maybe protective gears such as knee pads, sleeves or braces to reduce chronic pain caused by the immense burden put on the knees in basketball, to prevent bruises caused by collisions and hard fall and to provide support after a significant knee injury like an ACL tear. They could wear also compressive arms sleeves to help muscles that are sore or overworked to recover faster. The sleeve enables your blood flow to circulate quicker to the heart, which helps you heal and recover quicker.

Wow. WNBA wears Exactly what wear NBA players. So surprising.

4. This is only a promotional character sketch, not what Lola would look in the movie.

Space Jam 2 would be developed in CGI and there are a little preview frames going around, included one showing Lola jumping and you can see her breast shape. But she totally looks like a comic cartoon character. It's not humanized. It's not designed to be the sexy love interest. She doesn't look out of space among the others anymore, expecially because seems that there would be also Tweety's Granny and Melissa Duck or Tina Russo as players too.

5. Reality.

Really? You want a human anthropomorphic rabbit? Well, Lola as a rabbit would have something like six nipples, but no human-like breast. And, also, real life girls have ribs. No one in real life is that thin. Oh, well, if you don't considered Pixee Fox, a model who had surgically removed six ribs and wears daily a compressive bust corset (yes, like the one that made Elizabeth Swan faint in the first movie of Pirate of the Caribbean) to look like a cartoon fairy (Tinkerbell, you are the one to blame for this).

(See here for references: X)

In conclusion, we can say that all this controversy is based only on a porny fan art and that Lola “new” graphic isn't change too much from the original Space Jam movie. It's just a little more cartoonish.

We can also firmly remeber that Space Jam 2 is going to be developed for children, to relunch Looney Tunes among new generations of children, who are the largest buyers of merchandising (including Happy Meals surprises) and consumers of new cartoons that surely would be developed, if Space Jam 2 would be a success.

However, we should admit that those kids probably know better the 2011 version of Lola than her original version and that 2011 version was more appreciated by fans and producers. Lola's voice actress, Kristen Wiin won BTVA People's Choice Voice Acting Award in 2012 and was nominated for that prize also about three times in the following years. Also Rachel Ramras, Lola's voice actor was nominated for BTVA People's Choice Voice Acting Award in 2016 for her role in Looney Tunes: Rabbit Run.

We don't know anything about Lola's personality in Space Jam 2, so we can't do a proper comparison or a prevision, but, according to what Malcolm D. Lee said, we can assume that original personality of Lola would be preserved.

The controversy is relevant only for Lola's body and not for her personality, and that's is highly rappresentative of what impressed more this bunch of grow-up kids. They grow up to be like the horny wolves and they are howling because their prey is not available anymore.

And, to be honest, being so obsessed with the breast and the body of a cartoon character (that is clearly made up for kids) it's not sane at all. Sorry to say that, but sometimes people need to drink from a bottle of truth.

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adonis-koo · 5 years ago

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tease

| Prologue |

↳ Summary: You came with the intentions of your best friend landing a job as a stripper. You never meant to catch the eyes of the king stripper of the establishment- Jeon Jungkook, yourself. With what was supposed to be a harmless way of paying off college debt faster you find yourself falling into a very odd and passionate relationship with your new mentor. Between infidelity, passion and jealousy there’s never a dull moment at Cherry Bomb.

↳ Pairing: Stripper!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, drama, slice of life, relationship problems without the relationship, reader is such a shy baby protect her, MUTUAL pining, so much sexual frustration,

↳ Word count: 1.5k

Previous | Next

Warning: This story touches on both sexual harassment and abuse, please read with caution if any of these things are triggers to you. Additional warnings will be given when a chapter present them.

~~~~

The things you did for your best friend was absolutely ridiculous, obscene and most of all embarrassing. It was her 22 birthday and naturally like any other young spirited adult, she had picked the equivalent in her choice of place to celebrate. She was howling out laughing, drink in hand and her face flushed red from all the previous alcohol she had drank, the shitty plastic tiara adorning her head making her stand out in the dimmed cherry red neon lit atmosphere.

Seulgi- was always the life of the party, no matter where she went, or what she did. She could always bring in a new crowd of people, or somehow convince you along with the majority of her other friends to go out.

How she convinced you to come here? Even that was beyond you. You were the typical introvert that seemed to compliment her extroverted nature, except at times like these. You had work in the morning and honestly? You’d rather be at home with a tub of cheesecake filling and the food network on, or maybe one of those house hunter shows?

You sank further into your sit as you sighed, unable to look up from the spot on the floor you had been practically checking out for the past five minutes, “Y/n! Oh my god- look it’s him!” Seulgi exclaimed loudly as a new song came out, she grasped your arm as she drunkenly shook you in excitement, “It’s the king!”

It’s the whole reason she wanted to come. To see him. Knowing she wanted you to at least try and enjoy yourself you forced yourself to glance up from your spot on the floor, taking in the hue of dark red again that ran so deliciously against his body that leaned against the otherwise vacant pole. As soon as he glanced towards the crowd a wide cocky smirk pulled on his lips making you cower again back to your spot on the floor.

It was too much, just one look from someone attractive was way too much for you to ever handle. That being said Seulgi obviously wanted you to burn alive to drag you to a strip club on her birthday. She had apparently just discovered this place- Cherry Bomb and it’s ‘famous’ male strippers.

The one on stage being it’s biggest attraction or so she had told you. You had only come to appease her, it was her birthday and you couldn’t just not go because of your easily embarrassed nature. But you also had a boyfriend who wasn’t exactly happy to hear about where you’d be spending her birthday- of course you reassured him you’d try to be home at a decent hour and you were only going because of Seulgi.

But still- you couldn’t help but feel your face getting hotter by the second as Seulgi wrapped an arm around your neck, “God he’s so (hic) hot- Y/n look! He’s taking off his shirt.” Just hearing her words had you flustered as you covered your face with your hands, unable to even think about what was currently taking place on stage.

He looked good- he looked insanely good, anyone would have to be blind to not acknowledge it. But seeing his body? You were sure you would’ve melted into the floor if you dared to look up from the ground at the supposed king.

But after hearing so many screams- and not just from your friend but from the whole building you finally caved into the temptation.

Letting your eyes hesitantly lift back from the ground to the stage. Your pupils must’ve been hilariously blown out at the sight they met with. His body was so chiseled, shoulders wide that complimented the narrow hips and his thighs, good god his thighs.

They were muscular and taut, his tawny skin looking all the more delicable under the red lighting. He was on the floor of the stage, hips thrusting into the air slow and languidly bringing all sorts of dirty and embarrassing thoughts to your mind.

His tongue dragging against his lower lips and his eyes were squeezed shut, the money was practically raining over his head and in that moment, you could have sworn it was like a masterpiece. He was a masterpiece shamelessly putting himself on display. It was when he opened his eyes again that you began to fumble in your seat. Because his eyes had met yours.

It could have only been for a brief second, but you wouldn’t have known due to your knee jerk reaction of covering your face with your hands.

You had a boyfriend! You could feel all sorts of layers of shame cast over you at how easily corruptible your mind was. He loved you, he was sweet, and while he didn’t rival this guy in looks or body- you still loved him very much. You were currently chastising yourself repetitively when Seulgi had suddenly started screeching along with the rest of your acquaintances, “He’s coming over here! Oh my god, oh my god- he looks so hot up close.” She had whined out, her speech terribly slurred and you were afraid you were the only sober person at this point.

Her words made you pale in the face as your head shot up in surprise.

But just as she said he was making his way over, and that could only mean one thing. He was looking to make extra by lapdance. By nature that was fine- you didn’t judge or care. But you sure as hell cared when you glanced up to see his eyes honed in on you.

It was like all of your squealing friend’s didn’t existence in his mind but it only made you cower more. Attempting to pathetically hide yourself behind Seulgi in hopes he’d go for her, it was her birthday!

But that must’ve amused him further, his approach towards you wasn’t hurried, rather the opposite. The sway of his hips steady and he even had the audacity to smile cockily at you, as if knowing his very presence made you want to throw yourself off a cliff. It wasn’t that difficult to tell, admittedly.

It was difficult to not react as violently as you had. A nearly naked and good looking guy was standing right in front of you, looking down as if he had just found his next meal to devour, the smirk coiling on his lips, “Why so shy, baby?”

Oh god, oh god anything but pet names please! You couldn’t even form in words as you gaped in horror, the red lighting was your only saving grace to hide your cheeks that undoubtedly were the same color as he shifted down to sit in your lap, careful to not put too much weight against your body, but enough to feel him.

And then he started rolling his hips slowly, but just the softest of movements made you hyper sensitive, you had let out the most embarrassing whimper at the feeling of his length, hard and throbbing rubbing against your thigh. He only laughed though- god his laugh, it was angelic for someone who was so disgusting in the most delicious way. He had barely touched you and you were already shamefully soaked.

It didn’t take much for you to get flustered, anyone could tell from the little they had gotten to know you- or flirted with you. And he was well versed in that language, letting his hips pick up in speed as he hummed something that sounded like a played off moan. One particularly hard thrust made you strangle out a whine again and your knuckles were going white to keep your hands off of him, off the temptation to touch his near perfect skin that just looked so tempting to kiss, to mark.

His music- thankfully came to an end, forcing his eyes that had been previously shut to flutter open as he sighed, making his way to stand up. You had let out a breath you had even realized you were holding in as you fumbled to grab the bills your friends had all laid on the table to chip in for your ‘experience’.

But he only laughed shaking his head much to your humiliation, kneeling down to eye level as the haughty smirk stayed on his lips, those dark sultry eyes burning into yours as he spoke, “Keep the money, those reactions were well worth it babygirl. Unless you really insist- but i'd rather have something else.�� his voice was deep and husky making your body stir in compliance but your thoughts were spirally into an absolute flustered mess.

Crossing your legs tightly as you curled away from him shaking your head wildly while finally spitting out a stuttered reply, “N-no I’m good!”

But he only laughed at your face, tucking his tongue into his cheek with a confident smile, one that practically ruined you as he hummed, “See you around baby.”

Your friends were practically shouting at you for the missed opportunity but you could only take in deep breaths to calm your frantic heartbeat, watching his broad, muscular back saunter away in relief.

It wasn’t too long after that you ended up leaving, having seen the main show Seulgi wanted to watch, albeit she was probably too drunk to remember the whole thing but that was besides the point. The cool night air was refreshing and you felt like your body and face both were finally cooled off as you walked her home, “He was so cute Y/n! You should’ve took his offer.” She hiccuped a complaint.

Pinching the bridge of your nose you sighed, “I have a boyfriend Seulgi, who I love for a matter of fact. Never bring me there again or else you’re dead to me, okay?”

She pouted like a puppy, fumbling in your grip as you stopped at the door of her apartment, another pitiful hiccup sounding from her lips as she whimpered, “Okay.”

You didn’t realize at the time, that your fate had been sealed. That this was going to be far from the last time you’d ever step foot into Cherry Bomb. And that was going to be far from the last time you’d ever see the king.

Note: Hope y’all are prepare for some frustrated mutual pining and miscommunication bECAUSE DEAR GOD

Taglist: (hmu if you want on yo)

#bts #bangtan #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #god give me strength #this series is gonna be a WILD ride #prepare to be frustrated #emotionally and sexually #jungkook au #bts au #jungkook smut #tease

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razieltwelve · 6 years ago

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Awakening (Final Rose)

Lightning was en route to the remote Water Tribe village when she felt it: a shockwave of Aura large enough for even the less skilled huntsmen and huntresses alongside her to react. She frowned and turned to one of the huntsmen under her command. There hadn’t been time for her to get up to speed on the details before being deployed.

“Is there anyone in that village with an Aura signature large enough to be detected from this range?” Lightning asked.

The huntsman shook his head. “I stop by there at least once a month. They’ve got a couple of strong people out there but no one who can produce this much Aura.”

“I see…” Lightning’s brows furrowed. “In that case, prepare to deal with a newly awakened Semblance.” Her statement drew gasps of surprise, and she pressed on. “It’s the only conclusion that makes sense. And if they’ve only just awakened their Semblance, they may not have full control over it.”

“Understood.” The huntsman nodded. He glanced out the window as the transport continued its journey over the frozen wilderness. “We should be there in half an hour at our present speed. The wind is making it tough.”

“Half an hour?” Lightning pursed her lips. “I’ll be going on ahead then. Meet me there.”

“Ma’am?”

Saviour flared to life, and Lightning moved toward the rear of the transport. She tapped on the intercom. “Open the rear cargo bay door on my signal.”

X X X

Korra screamed.

Fire, wind, water, and earth raced to obey her commands. Her village was in ruins. Her parents and the others had tried to fight off the Grimm, but there had been too many of them. Now, her father was lying on the ground bleeding, and her mother wasn’t moving either…

Light blazed from within her, a combination of rage and grief unlocking a power she’d never known she’d had. It raged out of her control, tearing chunks of ice out of the ground and hurling them at the Grimm as tongues of fire and rock lashed out. The wind roared, a howling, tearing gale.

X X X

Lightning reached the outskirts of the village well before the transport. Even the second level of Saviour allowed for travel at ridiculous speeds, completely unimpeded by the weather. There were still a few Grimm around, and she cut them down with ruthless efficiency. However, what caught her attention was the maelstrom of power at the centre of the village.

“Please,” one of the surviving villagers grabbed her arm. “You have to help her!”

“Who is she?” Lightning asked even as Saviour began to analyse the child at the centre of the devastation.

It was a Semblance of some kind, one capable of elemental control on a large scale. Her eyes narrowed faintly. It bore similarities to the ice Semblance that the crown princess of Arendelle had. Despite only being a child, Elsa’s ice Semblance was already tremendously strong. This Semblance wasn’t at that level of power, but it appeared to be more versatile, capable of manipulating substances other than ice.

“Korra.” The villager pointed. “Her mother and father are there.”

Lightning looked. The two adults appeared dead, but Saviour was able to detect the signs of life within them easily. However, at this rate, with so much Aura being tossed around…

“Korra,” Lightning shouted. “Stop.”

The girl looked at her with eyes that blazed light. Lightning lifted one hand, and the tidal wave of water and ice that thundered their way parted. Interesting. The girl had lost control. Now, her Semblance was operating in an entirely self-preservative manner, attacking anything it perceived as a threat. And Saviour would always be perceived as a threat.

“Do you have medical personnel?” Lightning asked the shocked villager as she continued to deflect a barrage of elemental attacks.

“I… one of us has a healing Semblance.”

“Good. I will deal with Korra. Get your healer immediately.” Lightning blurred forward, and Korra collapsed like a puppet with her strings cut. As the girl collapsed into her arms courtesy of a single, well-placed blow, Lightning reflected on how young she was. She was the same age as Averia. Even in the eerie calm granted by Saviour, she was perturbed. This… this reminded her far too much of her own origins. With any luck, however, the healer hurrying toward Korra’s parents would ensure that it did not end the same way.

X X X

Lightning finished giving her report to Ozpin and waited for him and the others to react.

“Good grief,” Glynda murmured. “What a mess. If you’d been any later…”

“Her parents would be dead, and we’d have to fight off hordes of people interested in using her for their own ends,” Lightning replied. “I should know. People tried to do the same thing with me and my sisters.”

“How are her parents?” Ozpin asked. “In more detail, please.”

“Both had serious injuries,” Lightning replied. “Both have been evacuated to a proper hospital. Korra and some of the other villagers are with them, and I’ve asked people I trust to watch over them.”

“Oh?” Ozpin raised one eyebrow.

“The Yun Clan and the Water Tribe have been on good terms for years. Fang is Yun, and I’ve got a lot of friends amongst them too. They’ll take care of Korra and the others.” Lightning’s lips curled. “Have you got a message from Atlas yet?”

“Yes,” Ozpin replied. “They would like to examine Korra’s Semblance more closely. They believe they may know its origins. Naturally, they want to send an expert in to assess her.”

“Tell JIhl to get lost,” Vanille shot back. The redhead wasn’t physically present. Instead, she was present via hologram. She and Lumina were currently on holiday. “I looked over the medical reports you guys sent me. Korra’s parents should be fine if the people over there know what they’re doing. Just in case, I’ll make some calls, make sure that everything that can be done is being done.”

“Good.” Ozpin glanced at Summer and Taiyang, who like Vanille were present via hologram. “Now, when Korra’s parents have recovered, it would behoove us to present an offer of sorts for when she is older…”

“I’ll do it,” Summer said. “If she is as powerful as Lightning says, then she’ll need to be pushed hard to reach her full potential. Beacon will be able to do that, especially considering who her peers there are likely to be.”

“Saviour doesn’t make mistakes,” Lightning replied, garnering a roll of the eyes from Summer. “And Korra is powerful. Saviour believes that the power she showed during the incident is a ‘higher state’ of some kind. If that is the case, even if her standard power level is only a fraction of that, there are very, very few children in the world with Semblances that strong. If she does eventually gain the ability to use that level of power consistently, she will be a upper AAA-Tier huntress at the very least, almost certainly in the S-Tiers due to sheer power alone.”

“We could use more of those, quite frankly,” Glynda said. There was a buzz as an incoming message arrived. “It seems we’re out of time. Atlas is sending its representative.”

Another hologram flickered to life. It was James Ironwood.

“James,” Ozpin greeted.

“Ozpin.” Ironwood regarded the other people in the room. “Let’s not beat around the bush. This is about Korra, is it not?”

“Indeed.”

“You should know that Atlas is not the only other faction aware of her. Information of her existence has already leaked.” Ironwood looked at Vanille. “Can you suppress it?”

“Already doing it,” Vanille said. “Any videos or other information on the InfoNet are being suppressed.”

“I find it terrifying that you can do that,” Glynda replied. “Albeit useful.”

“I pretty much built the thing with Hope,” Vanille said. “But suppressing public InfoNet posts doesn’t do anything about people discussing it in person or on private networks. There are some people smart enough to have completely self-contained networks. Give me long enough, and I could probably get physical access to most of those, but not fast enough to stop them talking.”

“What a mess,” Ironwood said. He nodded at Lightning. “Although your intervention was timely. Things would be far worse otherwise.” He folded his hands together. “You should know that my government will make a play for her. The village she lives in is technically a jointly administered area between Vale and Atlas via the treaties of the Great War.”

“Of course, it is,” Vanille made a face. “Because nothing can be simple.”

“Indeed.” James shook his head. “But I am not here to pick a fight. I need something to present my government. I am amenable to a compromise, but I need something to work with, something to allay the concerns of my superiors.”

“I see.” Ozpin gestured at the others. “Then let us discuss the matter further.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Korra’s Semblance here was activated by seeing her parents go down. She thought they were dead instead of simply badly wounded. As a result, she activated her Semblance and lost control of it. This allowed her to access far greater levels of power than she would normally have been able to use given her age.

As you can see in the meeting, whenever a powerful huntsmen or huntress is revealed, there is considerable jockeying for control. A single huntsman or huntress of high power (e.g., AAA or higher) can make a huge difference for a kingdom, especially if they can reach the vaunted levels of people like Team STRQ or Team LFSC. As a result, any child with Korra’s power is going to be the subject of strife as the various factions look to take her under their wing.

In this regard, people like Averia and Ruby are lucky since their parents are powerful and influential in their own right. Korra’s parents, while strong, are not nearly as powerful as people like Lightning and Summer, nor are they as influential. The compromise agreement that they eventually work out is why Korra ends up in Beacon without ever having to apply.

#final rose #fanfiction #lightning farron #oerba dia vanille #summer rose #ozpin #james ironwood #glynda goodwitch

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newsiegirlscout · 7 years ago

Text

A Summer of the Ages

Hey-yo! I’m sorry to say this is my “finale” of sorts to Captain Underpants fanfiction, but my-oh-my, was it a ride.

This is a continuity to all my previous fanfictions: Last One Chosen, Of Rooks and Pawns, (Commission), and Nerdsitting.

Without further ado....onto the fic!

In every neighborhood, there’s bound to be a house with a child nobody really knew growing up. It wasn’t that he kept to himself, necessarily-in fact, you and he probably went to the same school, crafted the same bird feeders, and wished on the same dandelions. It’s just that, well....he was certainly not of the same kind.

Sometimes you have to be your own hero, because sometimes the people you can’t live without can live without you.

Behind him, the door swung open unceremoniously and hit the side of his desk. The boy tensed, instinctively pressing his hand against the spine of his novel.

“Hey, Melvin.”

Behind him stood the not-terribly-surprising figures of his acquaintances, George and Harold.

Melvin bristled visibly as he pulled a strand of his hair and marked his place.

“Beard. Hutchins. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Harold looked at him blankly until his accomplice punched him in the arm.

“Dude. He means, what the heck are we doing here. But in adult language.”

“Oh….OHHHHHHHH. Okay. We kinda left your garage door open after we destroyed a few dozen timelines. It’s like, two days later and you still haven’t noticed, so we figured you were either reading or dead.” he shrugged, “Anyhow. Wanna come hang out?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Harold began briefly before George cut him off midword.

“It’s summer vacation, genius! You might have heard of it. It means you don’t have to think anymore.”

He sighed and put his hands up in mock-defeat, a smile playing in his hazel eyes.

“Alright, then. I’m bringing my book, though.”

###################################

“Sooooo, do ya’ like her?” Harold giggled.

Melvin cocked his head to the side in an expression of pure confusion. “Whom?”

“Stephanie, of course! You’ve been cow-eying her like, all year! Remember when she did that presentation on Madame Curie and you fell out of your chair?”

The redhead’s face flushed a cherry-blossom pink.

“I simply forgot to clean my glasses that day….her presentation was one of the best, and I was trying to get a better view of her visual aids and diagrams. I was leaning forward, and my chair slipped.”

His companion raised one eyebrow.

“Melv. C’mon. You go cross-eyed when you lie. George? Is that a penalty?”

Beside him, he raised his hand and shook it slightly.

“Yeah, sorry, man. Mr. Hutchins?” he laughed, getting to one knee and bringing his hand to his chest as akin to a high-class businessman placing an order.

“Yes, Mr. Beard?” he replied through his bubbling laughter, returning the gesture.

“Would you kindly retrieve the Deactivation Sequence?”

Harold tittered softly and shook his head, casting a last glance towards his friend. “Awwww, sorry, dude.”

“Wait….what are you two up to?”

The neighborhood was filled with an anguished howl.

In the treehouse, Melvin sat shivering, drenched head to foot in ice water. His bangs plastered to his forehead, he tried in futility to dry his glasses for a minute or two before giving up.

“I hate you both.”

They chuckled while the evening breeze lightly rustled the wind chimes in the yard.

“Love ya’ too, Melvin.”

###########################

The cheery sounds of INDY 500 racers, laser rifles, and the occasional chime of a winning score ran through the arcade. Behind the duo of notorious Piqua fame, their bespectacled associate was being led blindfolded across the kaleidoscopically patterned carpet to, as it seemed to be, a particular location.

Once at arrival, George twirled him by the hand into a ballroom-style embraced dip, then flamboyantly removed his blindfold to reveal the gaily-colored interior of the Midway Tesla arcade reservation space.

“George and Harold, there are 171, 476 words in the current English language and none of them can describe how much I continue to be utterly bewildered at your antics. Should I ask why you decided to reserve an arcade’s solitary non-vociferous room out of occasion?”

In unison, the two turned to each other blankly.

“I’m gonna pretend you asked why we got the party room even though it’s not our birthdays.” said Harold, bouncing happily on one foot, “And the answer is, we have our ways.”

Taking Melvin’s scrawny wrist in his own, he peered at the time and released him, pulling light-blue visors emblazoned with pixelated lightning bolts from his bookbag and passing one to George. Beside him, he thanked his friend, withdrew their trademark sunglasses and name tags (on multicolored lanyards, of course) from his pocket, and passed the yellow-and-green patterned badge to Harold.

No more than perhaps a minute later after they’d clambered onto the nearest table, a lanky counselor with frizzly chestnut hair, a smattering of scruff about his features and a pinstriped button-up shirt came in.

“Boys.” he said plainly, tipping down his sunglasses in amusement.

“Walter.” they replied, returning the gesture prior to tucking their Ray-Bans into their pockets.

The three bumped fists with their coworker, turned, kicked the flats of their shoes together, slapped alternate hands, repeated with the converse digits, and lifted their hands as if celebrating a team accomplishment.

“So, we’ve got a special-”, Walter said, then burst into laughter and wiped a tear from his eye, “Sorry, I just...I just love how you two stand on a table to get eye contact with me. That’s like, a zillion shades of awesome. Anyhow. We’ve got a dozen kids coming in for a Cartoon Network Block Party theme, and we need to make sure we’ve got the wheelchair ramp, restocked the prize counter, and cleaned the syrup container. You guys got that?”

“Got’cha covered.” George called back, “Walt, if you get the syrup, we’ll work on the decorations and prize counter.”

“Sure thing, captain.” the teen replied, sending a salute to the boys. Withdrawing a rag from his back pocket, he whistled an eight-bit melody and headed towards the back counter.

Harold kicked the wheelchair access into place, then joined his companion whispering something that appeared to be of humor judging from the hushed laughter emanating from the pastel-papered supply cabinet.

“Em...hello?” asked Melvin tentatively, stopping only to nudge the ramp a quarter-inch to the left, “May I ask what you find so amusing?”

A wide gap-toothed grin spread across Harold’s features, and he leaned over to ruffle Melvin’s hair. (He, however, in response, was quick to swat his hand in all seriousness.) “Welcome to your first day on the job, Melv. At least, you’re gonna help us. We need these posters and streamers and stuff hung up, so George gets the Powerpuffs, I’m on Foster’s Home, and you….”

George tossed him a poster tube and a set of vials, trying hard to keep a straight face.

“...You get Dexter.” he finished.

###########################

“Ladies and gentlemen!”, George announced, tapping the microphone clipped to his collar, “Hello, and welcome, to Dav’s birthday party!”

A cheer spread through the room until Harold stepped closer to the host, a boy about four feet tall with a wide grin spread across his features.

“How old are you, Dav?”

“I’m ten! Who’s the new guy?”

The boy laughed. “Ah, ten. Good year. As for your other question, this is Melvin. Little short, but you know, he recently got crushed under all his books. Guess he’s only got his shelf to blame.”

From the back, a few of the kids giggled. Behind the duo, Melvin leaned back on the table, unamused. Harold wasted no time in reaching back, and, with a flick of his wrist, escorting his friend forward.

“Mel, kindly greet these children. Stop being antisocial club president.”

He raised his hand slowly in a wave, then retired it to his side.

“I’m not antisocial, I’m just not user-friendly.”

George, opposite them, took the opportunity to tap his mike and rejoin the chaos.

“You know, Melvin does make horrible science puns, but only periodically. He might act like a solitary bird, but really, he’s thrilled. It’s really hootiful. Dav, you know any card tricks?”

Dav giggled and shook his head, eyes brightening when George produced a hand of cards.

“Alright, pick a card, any card!”

He complied.

“Now another…..and another…..”

After a moment or two, the young boy frowned.

“Hey, you asked if I knew any card tricks!”

George grinned. “And neither do I. But I think I know something that’ll make you Snicker….”

“Ah, sweet!” the boy cheered, taking a bite of the treat.

“Glad to see you smile, Davey Jones.” George giggled, “As to the rest of you dorks, we’re proud to announce that the arcade! Is! OPEN!”

A cheer went up amongst the crowd, and Melvin shrugged and made his way to the front past the barrage of children, handing them each a roll of tokens as if arming them for combat.

“Let your plans be as dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.” he quoted seriously with an edge of a grin.

When the last of the children left--a disabled girl with bouncy strawberry curls, Andrea--turned back, grinned, and saluted.

######################################

Back in the treehouse, the impromptu arcade counselors breathed a deep sigh of exhaustion in unison.

Looking up from his book, Walter chuckled. “I still can’t believe you seriously invited me over. Nice place you guys got, of course, but like…..I’m seventeen….don’t you have a ‘no-adults’” policy?”

Harold glared suspiciously towards him from the cooler in the back corner.

“Hey, Walt, adulthood, if you haven’t noticed, is kind of a choice over here. What I can’t believe is that Iris and Andrea actually got the big alien. Ten thousand points, right?”

“Fifteen.”, George called from the beanbag he appeared to have melted into, “That thing was almost as big as Andrea.”

“Dannnng….almost wouldn’t be surprised if it ate her. Good job, Team Fullmetal. George, Walt, Melvin? You guys thirsty?”

A fatigued sound of acclamation rang from all three corners of Tree House Comix, Inc.

“Sweet, alright. Sprites all around. Good job, team. Ice cream bars are, of course, coming...Walter, do you want Jake? Or Finn? Or are you a Cookie Cat kind of man?”

From a grave of pillows, he threw up his hand, gave a point, and a thumbs-up.

“You know it, my dudes. How many others memorized the entire thing and wrote like, five parodies pertaining to each of the Gems?”

Harold giggled softly and began to descend down the rope ladder.

“See, Cinders? This! This is why you’re with us!”

A pillow struck him weakly, but with accuracy.

“However big, however small, glad to be part of it all, Bubbles.”

Melvin looked back towards the teenager with an expression, though not the first, of utter confusion.

“Explain….please….?”

Walter sighed happily.

“Walter goes into Walt, which goes into Waltz. Waltzes are for Ballrooms, and Cinderella was famous for losing her slipper on the halls. Ergo, Cinders. And Harold…..well, you’ll see.”

Melvin cleaned his glasses on his shirt, then leaned back once more, flipping through his book to the mark.

“I shall never understand your kind, dear sir.”

“Frankly, the beauty of it…..is that neither will I.”

A few pages later, Harold swung into view, his left arm cradled to his chest.

“Gentlemen, I present….your prince!”

With a bounce in his step, he passed out the various ice cream bars to his comrades, stopping at Melvin with an unbranded ice cream sandwich and rubbing his arms sheepishly.

“Sorry, man. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so….”

He chuckled.

“Actually, this is perfect.”

“Alright!”, he cheered, joining his spot, “Powerpuff Girls?”

“Powerpuff Girls!” Walter echoed.

“Powerpuff Girls!” George followed enthusiastically.

“Uh…..Powerpuff Girls?” Melvin shrugged.

“Powerpuff Girls!”

George laughed zealously. “Commander Cheeseball, ready the VCR?”

“Signal given, second lieutenant Fluffy.”

“Guys….”, he turned, addressing the room, “It’s gonna get wild. Powerpuff Girls film in action!”

######################################

Late in the prime of the summer afternoon a week later, George was mildly startled to see a pale hand emerge from beneath the treehouse, put a call bell on the edge of the floor, and courteously double-ring it.

“Melvin, man, you can just come in.” Harold responded, cornflower blue eyes barely flickering from the image he was immersed in coloring.

“Well, some people-”, came the call from below them as their nerdy compatriot struggled to gain purchase on the rope ladder, one arm unavailable, “-weren’t raised to break into their classmate’s houses.”

Upon reaching the interior, he stood, revealing the formal charcoal suit and bow tie he was wearing, carded his fingers through his ginger hair, and shifted the sizable package occupying most of his strength to his hip.

“Stephanie’s birthday is today. Suit up.”

George sighed, and straightened his tie impulsively.

“Wait….June eighteenth? That’s today? Harold, when was the last time we looked at a calendar?”

Beside him, the boy in turn shrugged. “George, it’s summer vacation. You’re such a Melvin.”

“....I’m not even going to question that. She invited everyone in her homeroom, which includes you two, and yes, it is indeed June eighteenth. Since we only have two hours, I’m….”

George beamed.

“Oh, my goodness. Harold, please, find a calendar and mark this down. Melvin needs our help.”

The blond chuckled.

“I’m going to stand strong in my belief that you like-like her. Sooooo…..what’s in the bag? And do you seriously need help talking to girls? Are you allergic to like, fun or anything? And by ‘suit up’, you mean swimsuit, right?”

“I plead the fifth amendment. I’m allergic to dander, but I happen to know that she has a parakeet. I would bring a change of clothes if I were you, because you always show up at formal parties dressed in the zeitgeist. Finally, I heard her say once that she loves humor, so I did some research and brought ‘A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’, and a few other personal favorites of mine…..’The End of Mr. Y’, ‘She Kills Monsters’, and ‘Radio Silence’....and a ten-dollar heart-shaped Starbucks gift card, if that’s….not too straightforward….”

He flushed scarlet and scraped the toe of his dress shoe against the pine floor, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harold grinned, then burst into teary-eyed laughter.

A second later, George followed.

For once, Melvin Sneedly was silent.

“Okay…..okay, man…..yeah, it’s okay to get her a heart Starbucks gift card. I promise, she’ll love it.” George said, wiping tears from his eyes and sighing his last, dangerously close to bursting into laughter once more.

“I’m going to assume you’re both prepared, and didn’t have plans to attend every formal event in t-shirts and shorts, if I may be so bold.”

George and Harold looked at each other with identical expressions of perplexity.

“.........”

###################################

“Melvin, why do you hate us?” Harold asked mournfully, tugging at his starched collar.

“Because that’s how you make an impression.” he responded instantly, somehow shifting the bag containing his change of clothes and the oversized present to the crook of his arm in one fluid movement purely to look at them over his glasses smugly.

From the walkway, a flag stuck out from the house like a full invitation, a cow’s nose pressed comically close to the viewer. The faint air of a catchy song (of which no one had ever managed to learn the lyrics) emanated from the yard, and a rainbow of balloons decorated the back gate.

Jumped in the cab,

Here I am for the first time

Look to my right and I see the Hollywood sign

This is all so crazy

Everybody seems so famous

George grinned and poised one finger on the latch.

“What’ya say, Mel? Ready to step into the unknown?”

Melvin straightened his bow tie and rubbed his palms on his waistcoat.

“Of course.”

################################################

Unbeknownst to the trio, across the yard, Stephanie sat cross-legged between her friends, eying the glass doors behind them warily.

Jessica Gordon giggled, trying in futility to smother her giggles and ending up looking more like she was attempting to eat her hand. “Okay, Stephers….truth or dare or don’t?”

“Don’t. Wow, guys. Thanks for playing. Are you going to give me a hand setting up the craft table?”

“Awwww, Steph, you always pick don’t.” Wendy Swan giggled.

Stephanie smirked and deftly threw a block of glycerin and a pocketknife into her friend’s arms.

“That’s what happens when you make the unwanted an option. What incredibly weird and personal question did you want to ask me?”

Jessica fell back on the lawn, followed shortly by her friend.

“Geez, that’s a bit anticlimactic.”

“Can you be anticlimactic while shredding the glycerin and sorting out the soap dyes and oils and stuff? We’re going to make rainbow soap…..assuming you crazy wyverns can organize a table.”

Jessica giggled, stuck out her tongue, and began dividing the glycerin base.

“Okay. Be honest with us…..do you like Melvin?”

“Melvin? Uh, you mean like Melvin Sneedly? With the cardigan and the bow tie, fourth-period science?”

“How many Melvins do you know? You’ve been blushing around him, like, all year! Remember that time you did that presentation on Marie Curie, and he like, fell out of his chair?”

Stephanie fiddled with her hair clip.

“He simply forgot to clean his glasses that day…..I’m sure he was just trying to get a better look at my visual aids and diagrams. His prescription is pretty blurry at points, you know.”

“Awwwww, c’mon, dude. You crinkle your nose when you lie. Jessica? Is that a penalty?”

The strawberry blond giggled and nodded. “Sorry, Stephanie. Miss Swan?”

“Yes, Miss Gordon?”

“Will you kindly retrieve the Decommission Progression?”

Wendy laughed and, with a skip of her heel, ran into the house. Stephanie put down her craft knife and fidgeted with her shirt cuffs.

“Wait…..what are you two up to?”

An anguished howl tore through the neighborhood.

Stephanie shivered and rubbed her shoulders, her hair flat and plastered to her face as she sat drenched in ice water.

“You guys are so immature.”

##############################################

So hard with my girls not around me

It’s definitely not a Nashville party

Cause' all I see are stilettos

I guess I never got the memo

“Oh, hey! Melvin!” Stephanie said, giving a swift and sideways cuff to her companion’s shoulder, “George, Harold, the infamous Tree House Comix. Inc…..what’s up? You look nice!”

“Are we early?”, George inquired, shifting his and Harold’s gift to his hip.

“Fortunately, yes. And these dryads don’t seem to want to help set up, so if you could, that would be totally awesomesauce. Gift table’s-” she jerked back with her thumb, “-kind of the giant hamper thing, and if you want to change, the bathroom’s the second door on the left. My uncle’s working on the water slide, but I really need some help with the gift bags and snack bar.”

Wendy cartwheeled over. “Wow, rude. I guess it’s hard to be friends with me, ‘cuz I’m so awesome.”

“Wendy, I love you, but I also don’t trust you with unsupervised amounts of candy.”

Harold, now dressed in a cherry-red shirt with a notable star emblem and swim shorts, nudged the cheerleader out of the way.

“You can trust me!”

Stephanie stepped into the shaded square, knelt under the tables, and slammed a five-pound bag of gummy bears onto the table.

“Let’s get to work, then.”

######################################################

So I put my hands up

They're playing my song,

And the butterflies fly away

Noddin' my head like, yeah

Movin' my hips like, yeah

I got my hands up,

They're playin' my song

You know I'm gonna be okay

Yeah, it's a party in the USA

Yeah it's a party in the USA

“Alright!” Jessica giggled, “I think everything’s actually ready! Steph, wanna form the teams?”

In response, she just giggled and blew a single note on the tin whistle around her neck, turning the attention of all the partygoers.

“Atten-TION! Alight like a sparrow and fall like a hawk, because we’re about to have full battle! Partygoers, strap your water pistols and arm your balloons, because it’s going to be brutal. Take. No. Prisoners. Teams will be decided by your awesome captains, me and Tommy.”

“Hmmm?” said a freckled brunette in the back with a timid smile.

“Yeah! Tommy, come on up here! Granted, my team is kind of going to crush you, but it’s nice to be powerful, isn’t it?”

He chuckled and climbed onto the picnic table, striking a mock-pose. “Yeah, I’m feeling it.”

“Sweet. To start off with, I’m taking Sugar. Sugar N. Spice.”

“Oh, so you’re just going to take my best friend? Two can play, Wykoff.”, Tommy said, grinning maliciously, “Jessica Gordon.”

“George Beard.”

“Wendy Swan.”

“Harold Hutchins.”

“Iris Patrick Harris.”

“Andrea Morris.”

“Mac Turtledove.”

“Melvin Sneedly.”

“.....Katherine Taylor. ”

“This…..is battle.” she said, clapping her hands, “We have five minutes to work out our strategy. Let’s go.”

############################################

“Did anyone ever tell you that water balloons aren’t supposed to be full of paint?”

“War is the most readily available form of chaos. Or are you calling Tommy’s Last Stand?.”

“Laws are silent in times of war.”

###############################################

Stephanie, although smudged with at least seven different forms of glitter, smiled as she plucked a pair of dice out of her hair.

“Well that….could have gone better.” she said, leaning an elbow on the craft table, “But man, we hit Gettysburg with that vinegar flank and baking soda ambush. What’cha making?”

Harold smiled. “Rainbow soap, of course. Is it okay if I take one of those giant dot-to-dot thingies with me for later?”

Stephanie flapped her hand in his general direction. “Oh yeah, it’s highly recommended. So….Avengers or Justice League? Or are you a Big Hero 6 kind of guy?”

“Avengers, all the way. But you are totally, like, more Honey Lemon than Captain America, so I’m guessing you’re a Bay-Maximum Rider?”

“Yeah, chemistry and physics are the two key elements to making everything scientifically awesome. Just….if everything has order….it’s better, y’know?”

“Steph, I don’t think you’re allowed to say that with an entire water slide and pool in your backyard. That is the gear of someone who flies at the moment.”

“Well…..generally, I plan things out, map out the possibilities from that moment, and choose the best one. Like, how can I prevent allergic emergencies? By finding all the natural allergens in all the snacks and labeling them, duh. Clear space, clear mind.”

“You must think…..really fast. But what if you flip a coin and it lands on the edge?”

“Harold, that’s a one in six-thousand chance, even for a typical American nickel.”

“Okayyyyy, well…..if you flip this coin and it lands on the edge,” Harold said, digging into the pocket of his swim trunks for the desired coin, “You have to do something crazy and unexpected.”

Stephanie chuckled and cuffed his shoulder “Okay, yeah, sure. And if it lands on either side?”

“I’ll do something totally characteristic, by which I mean awesome.”

“Let’s go, then.” she said, edging the coin on her fisted thumbnail and releasing it.

Immediately as it hit the table, it spun gradually, then rested on its edge.

Stephanie climbed onto the picnic table once more and blew her whistle.

“In light of Harold Huchins being the craziest boy alive, the rest of this party is set in a Victorian era, with the pool as a lake and the slides as aqueducts. Cow chicka wow wow, that’s what my baby says.”

Harold gave her a high-five.

At no point did she see the magnet he had placed under the table be palmed back to his pocket.

############################################################

“There’s no way”, George finished, “she actually already had that whole, like, wedding cake with roses and gold dust and stuff ready to go.”

Harold grinned. “Eh, it was still unexpected at the time. Maybe she just made the theme off the cake.”

“Yeah, the period-accurate silk sponge cake she just happens to have, while literally everything else here is Marvel-themed.”

“Boo!”

“Gyahhhhh…..oh, hey, it’s just you. I kind of thought it was someone I needed to worry about.” George joked, “What’s up?”

“I’m just about to open the presents, so, if you guys want to bail or stay, now would be a really good time to decide.” Stephanie said, her dark hair now cascading across her shoulders in wet, frizzy, waves and a smile playing across her chocolate-brown eyes--

“Yeah, it’s cool. We want to see your reactions! Trust me, you’re going to love Melvin’s present.” George said, winking at his bespectacled friend slyly.

“Oh! Sweet! Well, my obligin’s to you!”

With a stamp of her heel, she was off. A small crowd of adults and children gathered behind her, but she, for the most part, seemed to prefer a staged approach.

“Of course,” she said, addressing the crowd, “I have the highest of thanks to all of you, of which it may be unbecoming of a lady to showcase, so you must excuse my manners. At this time, I find it best to open the lovely gifts and laurels you all have been so dear to present, and at the next stroke of the clock, we shall have a marvelous parting. My farewell, in a more physical form, if you wish to claim it at this time, is by the snack table. So, first off for presents…..I’m going to check out this big one from Melvin.”

She spent a few minutes removing the galaxy-themed aesthetic wrapping paper from the package, and her eyes lit up.

“Oh, hey, cool! She Kills Monsters! I don’t think I’ve read these…..sweet! Thanks, Melvin!”

Then, with a raised eyebrow, she glanced at the edge of the box.

“What’s this?”

Melvin held his breath.

“Oh, nice, a sliding block puzzle! And the spring-thingy…..there’s something inside, right? So if I just rotate this, and slide this part over here….”

A few moments later, the final latch clicked, and the girl grinned.

“Alright! What is it?”

Beside the others, Melvin Sneedly fainted.

######################################################

“Hey….dude, wake up.”

The boy rubbed his eyes. “Do I….want to know?”

Stephanie giggled. “Yeah, you probably do. See, I got this boss Starbucks gift card from a nerd and he died. So now he’s totally in my dad’s office, because there’s a lot to be said for a family of medical practitioners. Everybody else left like, an hour ago, including your friends, sorry, man. Do you want your parents to pick you up?”

“Uh….I think I’ll walk, thanks.”

Stephanie scooted forward and hopped off the box she was sitting on. “Ah, dude! Can I walk you home? I’ve never seen your house, anyway...is it like, a mansion or something? Or an apartment?”

“As I told the last people who asked that exact same question, it’s actually a pretty ordinary house, and it’s a two-hour walk….but I’d be delighted for your company.”

Stephanie laughed and hooked her arm into his. “Well, then, I shall be gladsome.”

###############################################################

One July seventh summer afternoon, George beamed and plunged his hands wrist-deep into multicolored slime.

“Harold, please, tell your mom I apologize for using all her laundry detergent.”

“....She’ll be fine.”

The call bell rang, and the blond rolled his eyes.

“You know the drill, nerdsaurus.”

A minute later, their companion clambered into the treehouse and cleared his throat.

“...Do I want to know what you’re doing?”

Harold nudged a tub of fluffy canary-yellow slime towards Melvin with his foot.

“Yes, actually. Yes, you do.”

“.........”

“Oh, this is really satisfying.”

George grinned. “Told ya’.”

############################################################

Meanwhile, no more than a few miles away, Principal Krupp begrudgingly knotted his tie and handed a concoction of lemonade and raspberry syrup to the new science teacher.

“I can’t say I remember hiring you, but I must admit, you’ve won the title.”

“And vhat title might this be?” said Professor Poopypants, extracting one of his hands from a similar tub of bright blue slime to take the drink.

“Edith? Do you want to explain this?” he said, glancing at the lunchlady.

“Ah, well….”, her voice rose an octave, and she smoothed her apron down, pausing only to take her cherry syrup, Sprite, and lemon concoction, “You gotta understand, Melvin’s really a nice kid…”

“Ah, zat suck-up. Yah, I vemember him. We have ze same online Dungeons and Dragons campaign.”

Edith looked over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. “An’ you know how he’s always talkin’ about getting into them Ivy Leagues, so he’ll do anything for extra credit, right?”

“Yah, yah, vhat’s your point?”

“Well, some of the less-well-meanin’ teachers make it a game to see what they can get Melvin to do for extra credit. Mr. Krupp used to be the reigning champion, but you took all this year with ‘assist in a full-frontal lobotomy.’”

“I suppose he is starting next year vith a 4.5 GPA…..but does that mean I have to give extra credit to George and Harold, too? They’re probably already setting fire to something as ve speak.”

“Aw…..sir, they’re also pretty well-hearted kids if you know ‘em, and they’re Melvin’s best friends. Surely, one of them is the voice of reason among all that, right?” Edith said, looking hopeful.

################################################################

Back at the one and only Tree House Comix inc, Holly Hutchins gasped and turned to the boys playing cards in her living room.

“Did you three use all my laundry detergent?”

Harold blushed. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Wow, I’m not even mad, I’m just….I’m just surprised.” she said, laughing, “I don’t suppose you’re looking for more ideas, are you?”

Harold shrugged. “Yeah, we’ll take ‘em.”

Then, as an afterthought, “As long as you don’t want us to dust or wash the windows or something.”

Ms. Hutchins laughed again. “Watch it, mister. No, I just saw these shell-shaped candles online and thought that I’d really like one or two. You guys can use a burner, right? After all, I am counting on at least one of you to be the voice of reason.”

“You’ve got it. Boys, I know what we’re gonna do today.”

################################################################

“Were we supposed to do something at these faculty meetings?” Ms. Anthrope inquired, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

“Yes. We were supposed to have drinks and gossip about the students behind their sun-tanned freckled backs.” said Poopypants, folding in his hand of cards and raking in a small fortune of chocolate coins.

“Ah. Well, Tommy’s too quiet. It’s weird when kids are too quiet.” responded Ms. Anthrope boisterously, leaning back.

“Seriously?” said Mr. Krupp, glaring at the narrator giggling nervously who doesn’t know how to write gossip and such and thus decided it would be a good time for a scene jump.

################################################################

“Why does your mom even have a reactive steel pot?” George said, warily glancing at the flickering flames, “Flour puts out stuff like this, right? Electrical fires?”

Melvin shoved George into the opposite counter.

“My friend, if you would like to graduate without third-degree burns, I’d get water.”

Harold fidgeted with his shirt sleeve. “This is a grease fire, right? With the candle scented oils and stuff? I think we’d get in trouble if we managed to spread it.”

George shrugged. “You know, once my uncle told me there was a special fire extinguisher for that…..Harold, do you-”

“We don’t even have a fire extinguisher, man! And paraffin is like, a cooking fat, not an oil, so I’m not even sure it’ll work!”

“Okay….” George said, biting his lower lip, “But we can smother any fire, right?”

The paisley towel caught aflame.

At that moment, Holly Hutchins arrived, gasped, and threw baking soda on the flames.

“....You’re all grounded.”

###########################################################

By July’s end, fireflies danced in the night sky with a hint of chlorine and lemongrass.

“Hey! Are you two there?”

George slid down the oak tree’s limb and landed on the grass.

“Why, yes we are. And who might you be?”

A small girl with thick glasses, ginger hair curling around her shoulders, and a distinct professional appearance despite her age faced them.

“My brother really ought to have mentioned me, but, for our acquaintance, my name is Ciana Sneedly. May I presume that you two are the troublemakers he’s been seeing as of late?”

Harold giggled. “Wow, troublemakers. Miss Sneedly, I am blushing.”

George took a theatrical bow. “The troublemakers in person. You sound like your brother before we taught him not to talk like that. What’s up?”

“Melvin sent me to tell you two that he’s at a convention, but he’ll see you next week.”

George’s shoulders dropped. “Awwww….that’s the last day of summer. What convention is it, anyway?”

“Don’t even try. He actually has a guest speaker position with a Mr. McCracken.”

Harold’s eyes brightened. “Ciana, would this man’s first name happen to be Craig?”

“I believe so.”

“Miss Sneedly, please, come inside. I think we’ll get along very well indeed.”

##############################################################

By the last day of the summer, Melvin arrived and unloaded a bag of spare machinery parts onto a blanket.

“I think you two are actually going to like this…..because I just got an ignitor battery at the convention, so, in other words, we have a model rocket.”

George and Harold grinned and high-fived their companion.

“Dude, that’s awesome.”

“I know.”

################################################################

By the hour’s stroke, all three of them were smudged with grease and sweat, but the rocket was complete.

And it was glorious.

And its final streak of color as it exploded in the evening sky was breathtaking.

#############################################################

Flight 2-765, Ohio to Massachusetts, now boarding.

Melvin Sneedly, as now a seventeen-year-old graduate of Jerome Horwitz High School, grinned towards the duo and tugged his suitcase off the bench.

“That’s my call, you two troublemakers.”

Harold laughed. “Yeah, MIT, right? I hear that’s the school for nerds who don’t set fires to their kitchens.”

Melvin winked. “Hey, that only happened once. And in our defense, your mother really shouldn’t have steel pots in her kitchen. Say we saved her a shopping trip.”

George facepalmed. “Mel, she was already out shopping. We used all the laundry detergent.”

“Guess we should have told her to get a Grade K fire extinguisher while she was out.

Vous êtes deux fous. Je suis honoré d'être considéré comme votre ami.”

And with a final sleight of hand, he was gone.

In a Piqua bedroom window, a mechanical train passed softly on its tracks.

FIN

##########################################

Acknowledgements:

OCs are Walter Ashton, Andrea Morris, and Iris Patrick Harris. All the others you see here and don’t recognize are likely minor characters.

Thanks to @kitkat1003, my editor! (Her OC, Katherine Taylor, makes a brief cameo)

A special extension of gratitude would have to go to @thefangirlingcartoongal; I guarantee, the first prompts came from conversations with her.

Obligings to @memeberd; if you see a headcanon in here, it’s probably his.

@wiffanywhiff, welcome to the fandom!

So, to all of you, and all of my readers, and even just anyone new to the fandom....goodbye, and thanks for all the fish. Farewell!

#captain underpants #melvin sneedly #captain underpants fanfiction #harold hutchins #george beard #holly hutchins #ciana sneedly #stephanie wykoff #captain underpants oc #walter ashton #iris patrick harris #andrea morris #my writing #waffles to go

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maopheous · 7 years ago

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Mom, please don’t take me there anymore...

What is the earliest memory you have? What is the youngest age you can recall? I remember a lot. I am proud to say I have a great recollection of memories and being able to remember quite a bit. Memories are beautiful. But there are also really sad and horrible things you could never forget.

There are a few things I remember clearly around the ages of maybe 3, or 4 and above.

I remember when I was really young sitting in the car with my mom at my brother’s little league games. I was reenacting the scene in “The Lion King” when Mufasa died. I had these little toys. The car dashboard was the high rocks and the floor was where the stampede happened. I remember carrying around the VHS tape of “The Lion King” around with me everywhere, asking everyone and anyone if we could watch it. And I remember my babysitter’s house.

There were other kids there. Quite a few but I only remember a few of them. Her two grandsons and another little girl who always had this look of stupidity. I remember she was a year older than me and had a hard time with learning. The babysitter was an old women, whom I called “Grandma Connie.” She was not my grandmother. We had no relation. She had a giant t.v and Asian networks and or the news was always on. Pass the living room was the kitchen and a open room to where her daughter and grandson lived. Which was a mixture of his play room and then the door to her daughter’s room. Back at the entryway there was a room to a bedroom. It was always dark. All that was in there was a bed covered in velvet and a shrine dedicated to virgin Mary. Then the hallway to the bathroom and back to the kitchen. I was uncomfortable there. I didn’t like the kids there. They were always mean. So was grandma Connie. She was always rough. But she made a really good desert. Her daughter was foul and harsh. And then there was her husband. I can’t remember his name. Maybe I didn’t want to. But he was an absolute monster.

I think I was 3 when this started. Maybe 4. I would walk into the living room. My mom just left. The sun is lighting up the room through the windows. Grandma Connie is going to make food. I’m alone in the living room. I walk over to the couch and am leaning against it. I hear footsteps and look up. He is there. In the hallway. He scratches his chest and stares at me. He says something but I don’t understand. He sits really close to me. He touches my head and runs his hand down my hair. He is greeting me I think. I look at the t.v. He has the remote in his hands and is flipping through shows. He passes power rangers. I was excited then immediately disappointed. He looks at me and ask if I like those shows. I nod my head. He still flips through the channels. Something inappropriate for my eyes. He stares at me. I get embarrassed and go to the kitchen.

Another day. My mom is in the kitchen with grandma Connie. I am eyeing the tube city that her oldest grandson is building. Hamsters. I want to pet them. He tells me he is going to kill them and feed them to me. I scream and run away. I run into the living room. The other girl is there with the youngest grandson. They are watching blues clues. I sit with them. The grandson tells me he likes my shoes. Light up power rangers. I tell him I like them too. The girl watches the t.v. My mom leaves to work. She gives me a hug and kiss and says she will see me soon. We sit there for a while. I hear a cough and look behind me. Connie’s husband is on the couch. He changes the channel. The young grandson shouts and begins to throw a fit. The girl does it too. I sit still and look back at the t.v. Just the news. Not something adult like. The boy leaves. The girl keeps asking if we could watch cartoons. He ask her for a kiss on the cheek. She complies. He gives her a long hug. I’m watching them. He rubs his hand on her back. She ask again for cartoons. He ask her something. She sighs and gives him a kiss on the lips. He turns it to cartoons.

Another day. My dad dropped me off today. He takes me to the door and leaves. I don’t want to go in. He answers the door and shakes my dad’s hand. I look at my dad. He kisses my head and leaves. We walk in. The girl is there watching cartoons with the two grandson. They laugh. I sit with them. He leaves the room. I fiddle with my hands. He comes back in and calls the other girl. She gets up and goes with him into the kitchen. She comes back with candy and the boys start to question how she got that. She said she got it from their grandpa. They get up and race for some howling about the candy. I stay in the living room. She asked me “Don’tchya want candy?” I shake my head. She shrugs.

The next time I was there. He wasn’t here today. I’m relieved. Grandma Connie is yelling that we all have to take baths. She cleans us. I sit in the living room shivering naked. The two boys are shaking around to dry themselves. The girl is getting her clothes on from Connie who is complaining about her long curly hair. Connie puts my clothes on me next.

My mom drops me off again. I go in and its just the girl in there. I ask about the grandsons. “Just you and me today.” We have lunch and go back into the living room. Connie tells us to watch cartoons while she cleans the front yard. I hear a door open and close. He is there. He sits down. The girl walks up to him and ask if he has any candy. He says nothing. She continues to watch the show. I do the same. He tells her to sit in his lap. She does. He ask for a kiss from her. She does. He pats her on her chest and she giggles. I look over at them. He smiles big and tells me to come over. I shake my head. He does it again but this time sternly and looks angry. I walk over. He grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him and traps me in between his legs. He tells me to give a kiss. I shake my head. He ask again and I go to kiss him on the cheek. He grabs my face and forces me on his mouth. He is sticking his tongue in my mouth. I pull away and yell ew. The girl looks confused. He puts her down and rubs his hand on her butt. She giggles. I pull away. He grabs me with his other hand. He pulls the girls skirt up and points to her underwear. She pulls them down and sticks her fingers into her vagina. He asked “What is that called?” and she says it. “My vagina or sweet pancakes.” and he reaches over and touches her. He stops and she pulls her underwear up and her skirt back down. He gives her candy. He looks over to me, unbuttoning my pants. I shake my head no. He looks angry. He pulls me closer and runs his hand down my chest. I pull away but I’m just a child. I’m not strong enough. He slaps my butt, buttons up my pants. Gets up and leaves. The girl stares at me while she gnaws away on her chocolate. I’m gripping at my shirt. Connie walks in. “What are you eating?” “Candy.” “Where did you get it?” “From home.” Connie shakes her head and sits on the couch. She turns on the news. I sit there gripping onto myself.

It happened again. This time the girl is not here. I don’t think I saw her again. It was just me. He is pulling my pants down and asking to kiss me down there. I shake my head. He pulls me close to him. I push him away. “It hurts.” I say. I’m scared. “It doesn’t. It will feel good.” “No!” I cry. He pushes me away after he does what he wanted. He gets up and leaves. I know its wrong. I don’t know why. How would I have known? No one has told me if its wrong or right. I just knew. I knew this wasn’t okay. I just knew.

And It happened a few times more. He made me feel him. And he wanted me to put him in my mouth. And I remember he stopped and left me in the dark room. I remember the youngest grandson watching me and telling me to get out. And to hurry before he came back. I remember the youngest grandson making me touch him too. And I asked why and he said because it’s suppose to feel good. And I said no. And I remember hiding in the kitchen the whole time.

I’m five and this is after the car accident. Even though I’m in school now I have to still go when my siblings can’t watch me. Its only a short time. I don’t see Connie’s husband. He works at night. I don’t think it will happen, but I think about the other girl and hope she stops listening to him.

My mom was taking me to Connie’s. And I’m sitting uncomfortably in the front seat. She looks at me and can tell something is wrong. So she ask me. I shake my head staring down. She reaches for my face but instinct had me jerk away. She looks shocked and I say I’m sorry. She ask why. I’m crying. I’m taking her hands and pulling myself close to her and I tell her. I tell her everything. I tell her I’m sorry. I don’t want to be in trouble but I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to go into that house. I don’t want to see Connie’s husband or her grandsons. My mom looks upset. She is crying. I repeat my apologizes and she is now sobbing uncontrollably. I tell her again, and she stops me. She gently holds my face and she tells me no. She tells me she is sorry. And she tells me I did nothing wrong. And she tells me I did the right thing. She looks at the house. She looks angry. I’ve never seen her angry at anyone but my dad. She straightens up and gets out of the car. I follow her lead but she tells me to stop. She tells me to stay here and keep the door locked until she comes back. And She marches straight up to the house and is yelling. Shouting. Screaming. I can hear her. She is cursing. My mom never cursed at anyone. She comes back. She looks pissed. She gets me out of the car and the police are here. And she holds me tights and says to me. “I’ll never let anyone harm you again.”

#me too #journal #short story #confession #you are not alone

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mitchbeck · 6 years ago

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CANTLON'S CORNER: CONNECTICUT ICE TOURNEY UNVEILED

L-R Keith Allain, Yale head coach, Bill Riga, Associate head coach Quinnipiac University, Mike Cavanaugh, UCONN head coach, Steve Raab, President SNY, Thomas Gill, Director Economic Development City of Bridgeport, Tom Regan, CHC & USA Hockey, and CJ Marrotolo, Sacred Heart University head coach (PHOTO: Gerry Cantlon) BY: Gerry Cantlon, Howlings BRIDGEPORT, CT - A new, "Ice Age" is coming to Connecticut. This new "Ice Age" will cover Connecticut in ice, not the kind to cause downed stress, excessive traffic accidents, and inconvenience, but the exciting kind. The type of "Ice Age" that involves Connecticut college ice hockey. At a press conference Monday, an unveiling was made of the first-ever Connecticut Ice Tournament that will be played between January 24-26, 2020 at the Webster Bank Arena in Bridgeport. The tournament will feature all four of Connecticut's Division I college hockey teams. The tournament is part of a planned Connecticut festival of the sport of hockey. It's kind of a combination of Boston's Beanpot and the Quebec City Winter Carnival. The regional cable network, SNY, which is already affiliated with UCONN basketball and football broadcasts, was the driving force in creating the concept in 2017. After two years of effort, they made it a reality. “This is a very exciting day,” remarked SNY President, Steve Raab. “This has been two years of hard work to design and many people made this day possible.” One of the key elements was to help the growth of hockey in the State of Connecticut. To do so, all four Division I college programs, UCONN, Yale, Sacred Heart, and Quinnipiac needed to be involved. They will all carve out the time from their respective schedules to make this happen. “The spirit this will create, and the entertainment, it will bring many memories. This will bring hockey fans from the state to Bridgeport.” For UCONN head coach Mike Cavanaugh, he is happy and surprised. “To be honest, I couldn’t believe there wasn’t one before, but with all four schools now Division I, it makes it easier and will be a major plus for hockey in Connecticut.” Cavanaugh is in a rare position. He recruited Connecticut hockey players when he was at Boston College, and now as UCONN’s head coach for the last six years, he has a unique point of view. “It's going to help all the schools in recruiting because kids in Connecticut will grow up watching this and will see the benefits right away. A solid eight, ten years of keeping this tournament going will produce results. The whole state will be excited about this tournament I believe.” Early on, Cavanaugh brought the Boston rivalry piece with him to the Nutmeg State. "That’s why I have scheduled games against all the state teams, and we can develop continuity here. This is a great first step. As you saw at the end of the (promotional) video, you want guys 10-20 years from now talking about how they played in this tournament. Guys can talk about when they won this year, or that year, or scored a goal people, remember. That’s what makes traditions. “ Cavanaugh mentioned what he sees as a, 'cause and effect' by his having been a part of the Beanpot, the 65 year Boston tradition that takes place every February among the four Boston universities BC, BU, Harvard, and Northeastern. “If Tommy Cross (Simsbury) or Cam Atkinson (Greenwich) had played in a tournament like this, they would have been inclined to stay in state. The four schools never really played each other until Quinnipiac went into the ECAC with Yale. Now, with this, it will help grow this tournament and the game in the state." For now, the tournament will be in Bridgeport, but the question comes about if it could be rotated among the venues in the state. “I’m a Hartford guy. That’s our home rink. I’m just glad we're playing here at Webster Bank next year and will see what happens down the road,” said Cavanaugh. A major component to this plan is to have a youth portion in which Bantam age (13-14-year-olds) teams all the way to beginning Mites (6-8-year-olds) will compete on the very same ice as the big boys they watch and cheer for. A Friday night doubleheader will feature, a public school, and prep school hockey matchup, again bringing a whole new generation of youth hockey under one umbrella. “We were approached in 2017 about whether we could get youth hockey involved as part of the overall event,” said the Past President of the CT Hockey Conference, and USA Hockey Director, Tom Regan. He played both his high school and collegiate hockey in Connecticut. "We had discussions the last two years over timing, the format, but getting the four colleges was key. It’s the first event, it takes time and effort to get four schools when they are all in league play to commit to this. That shows you how important they all want this. "To do it (the tournament) in January in the heart of hockey season rather than something earlier in the year, might not have had the same (punch), and it's at ALL the levels and that makes it very important." To get all levels involved was critical for the ability to grow hockey. Having a sport that requires some cash to play was not lost on Regan. “To get the kids on the ice to play and watch the college kids play, it will give real inspiration to those (young) players. The next Brian Leetch, the next Chris Drury will see this grow the game, increase the excitement around the game, and for the tournament." The event had some warm light-hearted moments after the audio didn’t match up with the video at the beginning. Cavanaugh in his remarks uttered the best line of the day, “I could read Chris Drury’s lips and he was saying, if he were playing, he would have gone to UCONN!” C.J. Marrotolo, the head coach of the Sacred Heart University Pioneers, relayed a childhood story. “When I was nine or ten, I begged my parents to go to Yale games." Keith Allain, the Yale head coach deadpanned in his opening remarks, “I was disappointed C.J didn’t mention he wanted to see me playing goal,” Allain, who played at Yale and still holds the record for career saves in addition to guiding the Bulldogs to winning their first NCAA title in 2012, said with a laugh. Quinnipiac's assistant coach, Bill Riga, stood in for head coach Rand Pecknold, who is in preparation for his team's NCAA regional on Friday in Allentown, PA. The game will be played at the PPL Center against NCAA Independent Division I's Arizona State Sun Devils, who will be making their first appearance in the tournament just four years after upgrading their program to NCAA DI status. The Bobcats have reached the NCAA tourney five of the last seven years. Festival Weekend Schedule (Tentative): Friday, January 24, 2020 1:00 – 4:00 pm – Mites Cross Ice Jamboree 4:30 – 6:00 pm – Girls U12 Championship 6:30 – 8:00 pm – Connecticut Prep School Championship 8:30 – 10:00 pm – Connecticut High School Championship Saturday, January 25, 2020 11:30am – 1:00 pm – Squirts Boys Championship 1:30 – 3:00 pm – USA Hockey On-Ice Clinic – U12-U14 (Skills, Checking, Goaltending) 4:00 – 6:30 pm – SNY COLLEGE TOURNAMENT GAME 1 7:30 – 10:00 pm – SNY COLLEGE TOURNAMENT GAME 2 Sunday, January 26, 2020 11:30 am – 1:00 pm – Peewee Boys Championship 1:30 – 2:30 pm – USA Hockey On-Ice Clinic – Girls 3:30 – 6:00 pm – COLLEGE TOURNAMENT CONSOLATION – TBD v. TBD 7:00 – 9:30 pm – COLLEGE TOURNAMENT CHAMPIONSHIP – TBD v. TBD Tickets for the inaugural Connecticut Ice Festival are on sale now via: sny.tv/CTice Discounted ticket packages are available for all Connecticut Youth Hockey League families, as well as for students from the four participating colleges. Group ticket rates are also available for groups of 15 or more. Regular price two-day passes for Saturday, January 24 and Sunday, January 25 are $35.00 for kids (18 & under) and $70.00 for adults. General admission tickets for Friday night’s high school rivalry games will be available at the Webster Bank Arena Box Office. For more information on Connecticut Ice please go to www.SNY.tv/CTice Read the full article

#ArizonaStateSunDevils #BostonCollege #BrianLeetch #CamAtkinson #ChrisDrury #GerryCantlon #KeithAllain #MikeCavanaugh #NCAA #QuinnipiacBobcatsmen'sicehockey #QuinnipiacUniversity #RandPecknold #SacredHeartUniversity #TommyCross #WebsterBankArena #YaleBulldogsmen'sicehockey #YouthHockey

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cannabis4oregon-blog · 6 years ago

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Google & Gay Blogs

While I am in the “appeal” process with Google, my hopes are not high that I will get access to my old account. In doing some research I found that Google is picking on Gay Bloggers. The issue appears to be nudity. When I opened my 2nd blog that did have nudity and men in sexual acts I kind of suspected that I would risk being shutdown. I thought about opening it as a separate blog and now wish that I would have. Then I think I would have a better idea as to what happened.

Google disables access but you will NEVER know why it happened. Much of this activity I am to understand is done by Robots and not humans. In fact I found a phone number for Google and called it. I tried to talk with a human but was told that they do not offer live customer support at this time. Instead I was redirected to a web page. You can easily wind up chasing your tail going through web pages, forms and forums.

My understanding is that you complete the form that Google provides when your disabled and want to appeal. You then should post in the Google Help Forum telling people you got shutdown and ask for help. A middle man will then relay your request to a Google Employee. Then the middle man gets back to you after they hear back from the Google Employee and you either get or do not get your access back. They don’t elaborate as to why things happened it is just that way. There isn’t such a thing as a 2nd or 3rd appeal but people have tried.

In short there is a ton of road blocks in place and no one is in any hurry to get you a response. So to guard against this make sure that you have your Blogger theme & content backed up on a regular basis. Better yet if your really paranoid don’t post nude photos at all.

While I understand Google is a free service and that said service is “at will” meaning they can terminate your account with or without notice, they are also trying to take over the world, much like a Microsoft. They give you free e-mail, free cloud storage, programs like Google Docs, They branched into social networking with Google +. They want you to use their service BUT if you offend them or do something they don’t like they just pull the plug. Now how in the world do they expect people to trust them? To my knowledge this hasn’t made it to main stream media and I honestly doubt it will. I mean it is just something that affects the gays and it’s porn so why put it in the lime light.

I understand some of Google’s point but at the same time, under the Constitution I am entitled to Free Speech. I should be able to say what I want and post photos of what I want. I agree with warning people ahead of time that they are about to enter an Adult site. However, if you click past the warning then you shouldn’t be offended at what you see. I mean especially when the words homo and sex are in the title and URL of the blog.

Since I had a gut feeling things would go south I checked on what Google’s policy is regarding Nudity. Here’s what I found.

Adult Content: We do allow adult content on Blogger, including images or videos that contain nudity or sexual activity. But, please mark your blog as 'adult' in your Blogger settings. Otherwise, we may put it behind a 'mature content' interstitial.

There are some exceptions to our adult content policy:

Do not use Blogger as a way to make money on adult content. For example, don't create blogs where a significant percentage of the content is ads or links to commercial porn sites. No incest or bestiality content: We do not allow image, video or text content that depicts or encourages incest or bestiality.

Child safety: We have a zero tolerance policy towards content that exploits children. Some examples of this include:

Child pornography: We will terminate the accounts of any user we find publishing or distributing child pornography. We will also report that user to law enforcement. Pedophilia: We do not allow content that encourages or promotes sexual attraction towards children. For example, do not create blogs with galleries of images of children where the collection of images or text accompanying the images is sexually suggestive.

Hate Speech: We want you to use Blogger to express your opinions, even very controversial ones. But, don't cross the line by publishing hate speech. By this, we mean content that promotes hate or violence towards groups based on race, ethnicity, religion, disability, gender, age, veteran status, or sexual orientation/gender identity. For example, don't write a blog saying that members of Race X are criminals or advocating violence against followers of Religion Y.

Crude Content: Don't post content just to be shocking or graphic. For example, collections of close-up images of gunshot wounds or accident scenes without additional context or commentary would violate this policy.

Violence: Don't threaten other people on your blog. For example, don't post death threats against another person or group of people and don't post content encouraging your readers to take violent action against another person or group of people.

Now on my 2nd blog, I did have a content warning up. I figured that since they permit nudity it wouldn’t be a problem. I’m no pedophile and totally support protecting children. I mean your only a kid once. You will be an adult for a very long time.

Realize that all of this is supposition on my part. It would be great if Google or their robots would communicate as to why they are disabling or taking away access from people.

I found the Counter of Shame and a list of Gay Blogs that have been closed. A link to the page and the counter appear below.

http://googlebloggerclosesgayblogs.blogspot.com/

As well the Counter of Shame appears in my sidebar. If I do regain access to my old sites, I am tempted to just put in an entry directing folks here. Let me know what you would like to see happen if I get my access back.

Thanks for stopping by. Talk with you peeps later. Posted by Jeremy Ryan at 9:28 PM No comments: Links to this post Labels: F U Blogger, Old Blog, Please Comment Fresh Start

New or Old reader ….Greetings and welcome! For unknown reason Blogger decided to delete my old blogs. I have been going through the appeal process to get them back, but with so many horror stories on the net I decided to cut my losses and start over. Hopefully, this blog will be safe (crosses fingers) and be able to stay on-line for many years. If you remember me you will recall that I had two blogs. My main blog was on-line for around 7 years, so loosing all of those posts really hurt. Not to mention the hours I spent designing this new site. Time really passes quickly when your engrossed in a project. The hard part for me was doing the tweaking and making sure everything was just perfect before I forged forward.

For the new folks, read my profile to learn about me. Just in case you can’t tell by the name of the blog I am gay (shocker, I know). I have a partner and we have been together for many, many years. Our children are our cats, we have 7 of them. 1 Momma cat and her 4 kids. The other two are strays that we took in. Actually the one stray TAZ had been coming around for years and once we brought him in he brought along a friend. His friend is male and has not been neutered yet, so he howls to go outside because he wants a female. He sprays the house to mark his territory and TAZ is really his only friend in the cat world. We love them all but they don’t all love each other and always get along. Cat fights or disagreements are a little too frequent. Someone is always hissing, which drives me absolutely crazy.

I am in the Technology field and have been unemployed for 16 months. I have had plenty of interviews but no offers. I suspect but can’t prove that the reason why it’s taken me so long is because one of the people I used as a reference was actually giving out bad information. I only say I suspect that because last year and again this year I had to places interested in me. Suddenly after they talked to this person they decided to hire someone else. So I am now using a different reference in place of that person. The problem right now is getting interviews. Last year was great but this year not so much. Funny thing is when all of this happened I thought it would be a couple months. Boy was I wrong!

Given the fact that I have been living on unemployment and didn’t know any better, I tapped into my 401k. That hurt me on taxes as well as wiping out a good portion of my retirement. Fortunately I am young enough that if I get back to work soon, I will be able to save some of that back. I am in the process of filing Bankruptcy. It’s not like I wanted to but I am backed into a corner and really have no choice. Turns out I didn’t need to touch my retirement after all because it’s protected and exempt from creditors. Damn! If I had only known that sooner I would be in less debt and have more savings. When you know better, you do better. So now I’m telling folks about it so they too are educated and if they are in my shoes they don’t touch what they have worked so hard to save for.

What can I expect to see here? There will be some photos of guys on occasion. I will be talking a lot about my life and what I am going through at the present time. You will hear all about my partner, cats and what ever is on my mind. I enjoy music a lot so you will see music videos. Some advice and commentary on current events. That is pretty much it in a nut shell.

I welcome your comments, feedback and suggestions. Feel free to share anything. Comment moderation is enabled so if you post something that you don’t want me to share with the rest of the world be sure to type in ***DO NOT POST***. Otherwise, I will publish what you write.

If your gay and just coming to terms with that or have questions about gay people, I am more than happy to help out with any advice. I know it is not easy being gay, it can be a difficult thing for you to come to terms with, let alone dealing with how other people react when you tell them the news. Younger guys hang in there when you grow up things are much better. The important thing is that if your having any kind of problem be it sexual identity, bullying or whatever TALK to someone, DO NOT hold in your feelings. That only makes things worse. The hard part might be finding someone trustworthy. If you want that person can be me. Otherwise, seek out a parent, close friend or counselor.

Well the hour is growing late and I need to prepare to turn in. Thanks again for stopping by. I hope to hear from you and see you here again real soon. Take care!

https://newhomoblogo.blogspot.com/search/label/F%20U%20Blogger

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nikolemuller82-blog · 7 years ago

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infinitehouseofbooks · 7 years ago

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YOUNG ADULT FRIDAYS - Slivers

Welcome to Shannon Muir’s Infinite House of Books!

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by YA Bound Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Slivers (The Prospero Chronicles #3) by Fiona J.R. Titchenell & Matt Carter Genre: YAHorror/Scifi Release date: June 20th 2017

Summary:

Ben

Growing up is hard, and growing up in Prospero is even harder, but I think we manage. I mean, yeah, my friends and I spend more of our time fighting a race of shapeshifting aliens than we do hanging out, but we have our fun. We go to parties, help each other with our classes, maybe even fall in love…

I’ve no illusions that we live ordinary lives, but they’re our lives, and I’m going to make sure we make the most of them whether the Splinters want us to or not.

Mina

The truce is temporary. We will not humor the Splinters forever. It’s only until the Slivers can be stopped, until the army of Shards being planted among our classmates can be disassembled, until we get our hands on the thing I’d almost given up believing in.

The humanity test.

For the chance to know, once and for all, who can be trusted, some dealings with monsters must be excusable. Inevitable. Just like this feeling between Ben and me.

And that has to be temporary too.

Excerpt:

1. Sabotage

Ben

At the time, my instincts told me that jumping onto the hood of a moving SUV was a brilliant idea.

After half a second of trying to find something to hold onto, I told myself I’d reconsider my instincts when I got out of this.

If I got out of this.

A voice in my ear—I hadn’t lost my Bluetooth after all. Haley’s voice, by the angry sound of it.

“Ben, what the hell are you doing?”

“I have no idea!” I yelled back, finally grabbing the roof rack with both hands and holding on for dear life, doing my best to block the windshield. The driver accelerated down the empty suburban street, jerking the wheel back and forth, trying to shake me off. I knew behind the tinted glass of this anonymous, plateless SUV were the gray faces of Slivers. Today they were supposed to be kidnapping one of Prospero High School’s nicest teachers from her home, and we were going to stop them. It wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, but we’d done it before and should’ve been able to do it again.

I looked to the sidewalks, trying to spot any other members of the Network.

There was a heavy blow against the windshield near my chest. The tinted glass spiderwebbed beneath me. The Slivers were trying to break through.

Not for the first time, I cursed The Owl.

“Everybody close on the house! They’re still on the move!” Courtney called over the party line.

“Where’s that spike strip?” Haley asked.

“About twenty feet behind Ben before he decided to go Shatner on us,” Greg answered.

The spiderweb of glass expanded as the Sliver continued to force its way through.

The next voice was impossibly calm. “If we can stop this vehicle, there’s every chance we can capture multiple Slivers at once in addition to preventing Ms. Craven’s abduction. Ben, do you think you can slow them down?”

Mina Todd.

She always asked for the impossible so reasonably.

The windshield broke open in front of me, safety glass exploding outward as a long, muscular arm with a seven-fingered, clawed hand burst through. It raked back and forth, opening up a large gash in the glass that allowed me to see the three Slivers inside. They were of slight frame with gray, hairless heads and bulging black eyes, and they had begun sprouting extra limbs and tentacles to better mangle me.

“I’ll try,” I said, diving into the jagged hole where the windshield used to be.

Their brief, startled pause before attacking was all I needed.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out one of the cheap stun guns Mina loved to make out of disposable cameras and jammed it into the driver’s chest. The creature shuddered violently, jerking the wheel to the side and stomping on the gas reflexively.

I forced the gearshift into neutral and pulled on the parking brake. The SUV lurched to a violent stop in the middle of the street.

So far so good.

Less good was the sound of snapping wood that came from the passenger seat as its occupant’s body began to shift. Its rib cage broke open into a giant, vertical mouth full of jagged teeth and swirling tentacles. The tentacles lashed out at me, wrapping around my arms and neck, and squeezed. The Sliver in the backseat joined in, grabbing the leg I tried to anchor myself with against the dashboard and forcing me closer to that terrible maw.

The passenger door flew open. The Sliver let out a howl of pain as Julie buried a large meat hook in its back and began pulling it from the car. Courtney wrapped her hands around Julie’s on the hook, throwing her track team muscles into the effort and hardly wincing when the gelatinous Splinter blood began to soil her neatly pressed blouse. The tentacles released me, and soon enough the two girls wrestled the Sliver from the vehicle and tased it.

One down.

The driver’s mutated arm reached across my chest and pulled the door shut. It looked deep into my eyes with those empty, black orbs. Its narrow mouth curled into the faintest of smiles as it held me pinned to the seat with that monstrous arm. Though its face was formless, its flesh waxy, I couldn’t help but feel something familiar in that smile and those soulless eyes.

“Soon,” it whispered to me in its chittering, popping voice.

A new arm burst from its shoulder, splitting into two insectoid hands that allowed it to shift gears and disengage the parking break simultaneously. I watched helplessly as Greg and Kevin finally caught up to us with the jury-rigged spike strip we’d built for just this occasion, tossing it uselessly to the ground just as the driver swerved out of the way.

I didn’t know if the Slivers were still going to try for Ms. Craven or if they would content themselves with taking me instead. Would they try to drag me to their Warehouse (assuming the Slivers had a Warehouse) and replace me, or would they kill me as soon as they found a nice, quiet place to pull over?

They weren’t slowing down. If anything, they seemed to be speeding up. They swerved down the street, aiming for the side of an old duplex. Ms. Craven’s duplex.

I took advantage of the driver’s focus to pull one arm free, fasten a seatbelt around me, and brace myself.

The SUV slammed through the duplex’s wall with a crushing impact that knocked the wind out of me and whipped my neck forward. The unsecured driver flew through the jagged remnants of the windshield and landed in what used to be Ms. Craven’s living room. The passenger from the backseat climbed over me with spindly spider’s legs, following the driver out the windshield.

A woman screamed inside.

Slowly, painfully, I undid my seatbelt and crawled through the windshield, landing on the floor in a dazed heap.

Somehow I stumbled to my feet and pulled the mini flamethrower from my back. It wasn’t much—just a kitchen lighter duct-taped to one of those recalled aerosol fire extinguishers that Mina had stocked up on, but it did the job. Flicking the lighter on, I lifted it high.

The driver had Ms. Craven wrapped in a set of tentacles and interlocking claws, lifting her off the ground. Ms. Craven looked at me fearfully, trying to cry out through the tentacle lashed across her mouth. The flamethrower wouldn’t do much good at this range, standing as much a chance of burning Ms. Craven. I was going to have to wait for backup.

“Let her go,” I said shakily. All of my experiences with Slivers so far had proved that they loved to talk. I only had to stall them long enough for Mina and the rest to get here.

The driver looked to the passenger, exchanging a low series of pops and clicks. The passenger nodded, calmly raising one of its three arms and pointing the hand at me, flat. Just like the driver, a small, frightening smile crossed its face.

I lost all feeling beneath my waist, my legs giving out beneath me. Then I could feel again—too well. It felt like every nerve in my body had burst into flames. Violent waves of nausea hit me, and my muscles no longer seemed to be my own.

Two realizations hit me at once.

First: they had a Shard we hadn’t documented yet.

Second: this Shard had remote control of human bodies.

There was shouting, and then Kevin and Greg slid through the massive hole in the wall, brandishing their flamethrowers and Tasers. Less than a second later, a sliding glass door opened in the next room, and Mina and Haley ran in to join us.

Only Aldo, Julie, and Courtney had yet to catch up.

The two Slivers looked at each other, then at us. They could have taken me easily, maybe even two of us. But five of us, well-armed as we were—that gave them a moment of pause. The driver dropped Ms. Craven roughly to the floor. Both of the Slivers raised their arms, and the driver looked at me, curling its lips into that faint, unpleasant smile.

“Soon,” it said again.

Long spikes of bone erupted from each of their chests and backs. They both began to laugh—a raspy, choking sound—as the base of each spike began to pulsate.

“DUCK!” Mina blurted, falling to the floor.

Everyone dropped, dozens of bony spikes narrowly missing us as they erupted from the Slivers’ bodies, lodging in the walls and shattering windows.

By the time we regained our feet, the Slivers were gone.

“Is everybody all right?” Mina asked.

There were murmurs of assent. Ms. Craven was on the floor, sobbing.

Finding out about Splinters is never easy for people to deal with under the best of circumstances, much less while being kidnapped by the extreme anti-human cult of Splinters that we’d taken to calling “Slivers” last fall.

Not that getting kidnapped by regular, garden-variety Splinters was all that much better.

I was confident that Ms. Craven would come out of her shock soon—she’d always struck me as pretty tough. Once this wore off, we’d be able to tell her the truth. Maybe even make her a part of the team.

Assuming, of course, she was really human.

Haley examined my scratches and scrapes. Content that I must have been okay, she smiled and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me close. I don’t know what was more uncomfortable, Haley’s weight against my aching ribs or the look of annoyance on Mina’s face.

“I’m fine,” I assured Haley, pulling away, “though that Shard they have sure did a number on me.”

“One of the ones The Owl showed you?” Haley asked.

“No, this one’s new,” I said.

“Dammit, I hate Shards,” Greg said, shuddering. I didn’t blame him; the last time we’d gone up against a Shard, it had made him feel a swarm of spiders crawling beneath his skin.

“Tell me about it,” I said.

“Hey, guys?” Aldo said over the group line.

“Did you secure the other Sliver?” Mina asked.

“Yeah, we got her. No problems there. What about yours?” Aldo asked.

“They’ve retreated. They haven’t doubled back your way?” Mina asked.

“No, we’re clear,” Aldo said. There was something held back in his voice I didn’t like.

“What’s wrong, Aldo?” I asked.

“Uh, I think you need to see this one for yourselves.”

“We’re on our way,” Mina said. “Haley, Greg, keep an eye on Ms. Craven.”

“I got some stuff that might calm her down,” Greg said, patting a pocket on his old army jacket.

“Don’t,” I said.

Greg shrugged. “More for me then.”

I followed Kevin and Mina out the front door. By force of habit, I looked up and down the street, hoping by some miracle that we hadn’t been spotted—or heard, for that matter. It was early Sunday morning, so the streets were mostly deserted. Typical abduction timing. The cops would be here eventually—a vehicle crashed through the side of a house has a way of summoning them sooner or later—but given the Prospero Police Department’s closeness with the main Splinter Council, this would all no doubt be hushed up pretty quickly.

“You’re gonna have to spend some quality time with Mina’s first-aid kit, brother,” Kevin observed.

“I’ve looked worse,” I said.

“You’ve looked better, too,” Mina interjected coldly.

“What’d I do?” I complained.

“You nearly ruined the operation. This didn’t go half as smoothly as our other interceptions,” Mina shot back.

I didn’t have a good defense for that. Ever since she’d started receiving those messages from the Owl, giving us the Slivers’ plans for abductions, we’d had a pretty good (though not perfect) track record of intercepting and stopping the Slivers before they could take their intended targets. Over the previous month and a half, we had managed to save the mayor’s son, Sheriff Diaz’s wife, and the head of the PTA from being taken without their ever knowing anything was going on. Things could have gone better this time, I knew that, but they also could have gone a lot worse.

“I didn’t have a choice. They know what we’ve been doing, and they’re being more careful. I did what I had to do,” I said.

“You could’ve been killed.”

“But I wasn’t!”

Kevin squeezed his way between us and put an arm around each of our shoulders.

“Let us not forget, my friends, that we did stop them from replacing Ms. Craven. It may have been sloppy, and she may have been needlessly introduced to our world, but we saved her. We did a good thing; the forces of evil are in check for another day. We should be celebrating!” Kevin said, smiling that easy smile he always used to defuse tense situations.

Mina sighed. “Please try to avoid unnecessary risks in the future.”

“Will do,” I said.

“There, isn’t that better than fighting like a couple o’ freshmen?” Kevin said.

“So says the senior commencement speaker,” I replied, punching him in the ribs softly.

“Hey, I’m as surprised as you guys are that I actually got the gig,” Kevin said, grinning.

“Right… so how long have you had that speech written?” I asked.

“Seventh grade, give or take a month.” Kevin laughed. “Come on, it’ll be my last chance to try to change a few minds here before I move on to the real world.”

“Freshmen don’t fight any appreciably more or less than any other students,” Mina said as if she’d missed half the conversation, looking a bit lost in thought.

“Really? Maybe we should ask Aldo,” Kevin joked.

Tall tales about Aldo’s secret second life, or third life in our case, had become something of a running joke among the Network, given his habit of accumulating even more scrapes and bruises than the rest of us in spite of spending most of his time behind the scenes, digging for information or tinkering with the equipment.

Underground cage fighting and undercover spy operations were common speculations.

This conversation did lead to one topic that had been eating at me lately: the passage of time. Of the eight members of the Network, Kevin and Courtney were both seniors and were going to be moving on from Prospero within the next six months. I didn’t know how we were going to keep the fight going without them. We would find a way to manage, Mina always had in the past, but it would be rough without Courtney’s organizational skills and Kevin’s ability to put things in perspective.

Julie, Courtney, and Aldo had dragged their captive Sliver to the privacy of Courtney’s backyard, a good five blocks from Ms. Craven’s, and by the time we caught up with them, they already had it tied up in copper wire and were threatening to touch the wire to a car battery. As usual, Julie (her jet black hair streaked with hot pink and red for Valentine’s Day coming up) smiled at us perkily beneath her thick goth makeup.

“Ya all right, Ben?” she asked, eying the scratches on my face.

“I’m fine.”

Aldo’s concerned expression was unsettling. Ever since our fight with Robbie, Aldo had assumed a bravura I’d never known he had in him. He was the first to cheer any victory lately. If he wasn’t smiling…

“What is it?” Mina asked, looking down at the Sliver, which looked more human now despite the few extra limbs it still possessed.

Courtney held the end of the copper wire above the car battery with a plastic pair of tongs. “Show them again.”

The Sliver hissed something in its chittering language that must not have been kind. Courtney and Mina exchanged a glance. Mina nodded. Courtney dropped the wire onto the battery’s contact.

The Sliver screamed too humanly as it shuddered and arched what could best be approximated as its back, and the wire sparked violently. When Courtney took the wire away, it reluctantly took the face of its true, human form with a look of pure spite.

It was the face of Ms. Claudette Velasquez, my calculus teacher. That she was a Splinter was not news; we had known this for a few months.

That she was working with the Slivers was a surprise. The last time we had seen her, she had a seat on the Splinter Council.

“What are you waiting for? Kill me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” she challenged.

“We’re not that stupid,” I said.

Ms. Velasquez looked at the battery with a mix of anger and fear. “Then what is your plan for me?”

“You’re going to tell us everything you know about the Slivers’ plans,” Mina said simply, taking the tongs from Courtney and holding them a little closer to the battery. “And when we’re convinced you’re not holding out, we’ll hand you over to the Splinter Council.”

Ms. Velasquez’s eyes went wide with genuine fear. “And if you’re never convinced?”

“We turn you over to them anyway, only we don’t tell them how remorseful and cooperative you were.”

Ms. Velasquez’s eyes scanned us, probably trying to gauge whether or not Mina was telling the truth. She must have believed her, because her body visibly slumped.

“Fine. I will cooperate. Just don’t—”

She let out an ear-splitting scream, her eyes bulging—then fell still with mouth agape. We stared, trying to figure out if it was a trick, when the flesh began to melt from her bones in thick gray rivers.

“What the… no, no…” Aldo muttered, trying to scoop bits of dissolving Splinter into one of his specially rigged containment boxes, watching with confusion as the liquid continued to evaporate after the box was sealed.

The entire Splinter corpse down to the bones was deteriorating into nothingness as the raw Splinter matter became incompatible with our world.

“What the hell just happened?” Courtney asked. “She was going to talk!”

“Was she?” Mina asked doubtfully.

“Well she sure as hell wasn’t going to die!” said Aldo, staring at the last vanishing remnants of the body. “Splinters just don’t do that spontaneously.”

“They might if they got one of those in ’em, brother,” Kevin said as he pointed to what was left of Ms. Velasquez’s deteriorating bones.

What looked like a foot-long, white caterpillar made of tumors and small air sacs disentwined itself from around her spine. Slowly, it walked away from the dissolving remains of my math teacher, shaking off bits of gray slime.

Then it started to glow a faint, pulsing white, lifting off the ground and beginning to float away like a plastic bag in the breeze. Mina grabbed it with her tongs.

“That a Splinter?” Kevin asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Mina said.

“Then what is it?” Aldo asked.

The answer hit me before Mina could say it out loud.

“A game changer,” I said. “If they’ve got themselves some sort of alien suicide pill hiding inside them to keep them compliant, we might have to reconsider our capture strategy.”

Capturing a Sliver for information had been one of our dreams ever since we started receiving information from The Owl.

Just when we thought we had the Slivers figured out, they had to come up with something like this.

I would’ve laughed if it weren’t so damn depressing.

Previous Books in the Series (click on image for Goodreads link):

About the Authors Fiona J.R. TITCHENELL is an author of young adult, sci-fi, and horror fiction, including Confessions of the Very First Zombie Slayer (That I Know of). She graduated from Cal State University Los Angeles with a B. A. in English in 2009 at the age of twenty. She currently lives in San Gabriel, California, with her husband, coauthor, and amazing partner in all things, Matt Carter, and their pet king snake, Mica. Connect with Fiona J.R. Titchenell on: Her blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Pinterest

MATT CARTER is an author of horror, sci-fi, and yes, even a little bit of young adult fiction. He earned his degree in history from Cal State University Los Angeles, and lives in the usually sunny town of San Gabriel, California, with his wife, best friend, and awesome co-writer, F.J.R. Titchenell. Check out his first solo novel, Almost Infamous, or connect with him on: His blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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rexylafemme · 8 years ago

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si no me visitara tu imagen nocturna, jamas podria conocer el sabor del sueno

there's a reason i felt so differently between wednesday night and thursday night—seeing a beloved emerge friend's flamenco show with some emerge dears versus going to the emerge/laundromat project mixer on thursday. a profound difference in the ways we could meet each other in each space, a difference between connection versus networking. also, there was something about the actual spaces we were in, too, and what they alternately could allow for in terms of intimacy—a performance space in the basement of a church on the LES across from tompkins square park versus a crowded hipster-y bar on e. 8th st. there was nothing wrong with thursday, it just was a different vibe—more cerebral. it also brought out a different energy in me, more restless and unfocused.

during the flamenco show, it was like my physical and emotional responses were projecting outward from me in this invisible, kaleidoscopic, multidimensional landscape--different moments of experience and self criss-crossing over each other in various textures of time. i was physically present—taking in our friend's voice, watching her, being impressed by her ease and emotion, knowing her in such a different way personally than in this moment, holding space for that and thinking about what i’ve come to know of her through the program, watching the men in the band, being interested in the ways everyone moves—their bodies, their facial muscles when they play or sing, also very aware of the emerge folks and audience around me— seeing in my periphery their responses, the rapt faces, the upward-turning eyebrows responding to longing, love, dreams, pain through sound.

i have, as maybe others do, this synaesthetic subconscious impulse to attach a memory of a performance to the first, most compelling scent i experience in the space, so when i recall it later, my brain initially remembers the smell, which is something i usually can't verbally describe. but i’m very aware of it throughout whatever i’m experiencing, and i connect my feelings and the way i build the memory of the event to that scent. i can close my eyes, put myself into wednesday night and smell and feel it.

keying into the all the layers of consciousness i have obvious access to, i’m thinking back to sitting at la planeta, the love & support around me, how opened up i felt, how i had internalized a feeling that this was a space i wouldn’t ordinarily find myself in, a community of people i wouldn’t ordinarily find myself around, and yet i felt comfortable, in the right place. sometimes life moves gracefully in that way, makes you feel like you’re experiencing exactly what you’re supposed to. feeling enamored by that feeling and the support around me. our workshop instructor to my left, his sweet trickster, soft paternalism very palpable to me even in his indirect connection with me as he took in the music. m. & her niece visiting from egypt who i had an extended conversation with before the show sitting in front of me—feeling newly threaded to her, l. and n. sitting out of my view to the left, having walked in late.

& then the music itself, forgetting & remembering where i was, where i’d been, re-experiencing and newly experiencing my affiliation with flamenco and spain—these quick reels cycling through my inner vision. 12 years ago when i was in an immersion program and my mom did whatever she had to do to get me there, i had a partial scholarship but when you are poor partial is not enough so god knows how she paid for it—she wouldn’t say and i didn’t ask. i recall how lucky i am for all she’s done toward my dreams though she would deny she’s done anything.

i was drawn to flamenco’s form because of its concurrent rawness and elegance, its wild attentiveness to feeling, desire—palpable & feral, also its fluidity & craftedness. when howling is formal, when stomping is a genre imperative. the expectation for contortion, your face made ugly by the sound of your feeling. sometimes adroit fury and sometimes deliberate, slow accumulation of agile tension.

just being enchanted by a talented friend and her beauty and courage. being also quelled by the way she closes her eyes when she sings because so do i and i’ve felt self-conscious lately as i prepare to start singing in public. watching the guitarist and the way his hair cascades his face. pretty, scruffy, long-haired quiet beauty. l., n., and i all determined later we had a crush on the band as a collective and we also had our stand-alone #1 crushes and he was mine. ugh, hate/love for gorgeous men who i make no sense to and maybe more importantly make no sense to me. i was telling l. that i ordinarily would never be interested in his crush, our friend’s former teacher, he’s just so not my type, but the way he sang—his face twisting carelessly with feeling and the two-toned shakiness and clarity of his voice was oddly captivating. i guess it was his emotiveness that was attractive, how immersed he was in it, how nothing beyond that mattered and it showed. how i am generally aroused by feeling, which makes me this big gushing heart walking around, touched and kinda wounded by humanness, ugh so annoying. anyway. n. was into the virtuosic pianist who our friend kept calling guapo onstage—erratic, nervous energy, hunched over his keyboard, shuffling through his music. young and pretty and it’s clear somehow to me that he knows it and doesn’t question it, which makes his beauty considerably less interesting to me. l. said to us, “well, we have no competition! we all like different ones!” ha. there’s something about flamenco that is so sensual and erotic in these ways that are hard to describe, but are totally enveloping. and this way it draws out attraction, but in this way of psychic magnetism rather than anything related to the ways we want people egotistically. it’s not about sex, necessarily, or wanting it, or even really about wanting the musicians. it’s something more complex and intriguing than all that. i think music always brings this sense out in me.

one of the heartwarming things about their performance was how thoroughly encouraging they all were with each other and how lovingly connected—no competition or ego involved. they egged each other on, improvised palmas and pitos and oh-ing and –eyyy-ing at each other’s solo moments, infectious responses which flooded the audience, too. mutualism that spread out to us. a wave of appreciation and embodiment and improvisation that we all took part in. connection and gratitude and generous virtuosity, humble genius, love, respect. it felt familial, like we were being let in to their circle, asked to share in their experience.

simultaneously within their and our element, i was inside my own. recalling cadiz, sevilla, malaga, granada. the unbearable heat of july in landlocked sevilla—53 degrees celsius—seeing the air rise in waves off the old, old pavement. dance anyway, walk anyway, long anyway and especially, in line with the agonizing heat.

recalling why i compartmentalized that time away somewhere not to be revisited, which had everything to do with the shame of being young, queer, in love with a close friend who loved me but couldn’t claim it ,was afraid of it—who broke my heart, came to hate me for her own hatred, shunned me because she couldn’t accept her/our queerness and what we were to each other—it was very secret, weird, very classic, very all over me, very pissing in a river, very youthful lovely/tragic. could i pursue a fate so twisted, could i crawl defeated and gifted? i was also embarrassingly infatuated with two of my teachers—my spanish teacher / cross country coach in nyc and one of the co-directors of the immersion program. which, looking back, was all totally normal and not shameful at all, even if silly. more normal in the scheme of my life than being in love with betty, actually. but, also the other resonant influences—family trauma, being something other than queer, too, and the way that my queerness/trans-ness was implicated in this monstrous way through my friend’s rejection of me. the first time in my life outside of the family structure that every intimate thing i’d shared would be used against me maliciously, spread around the school, tiny pariah. the awkwardness and pain of coming into myself through this, excelling anyway. but, to deny myself of that entire time period’s memories because of the shitty parts meant i also deprived myself of this other passion that was so fully my own, independent and private and separate, which i had shared with these three people, but weren’t innately connected to them. having become fluent in spanish because of the love of the language—how it moved and how it worked, the complex histories and experiences held within the language, the cultural, political, social geographies and backgrounds attached to it, the process of humbly learning about all that, coming to greater understandings and being very grateful for it. i think during the show, i started both grieving and being brought back to that lost enthusiasm. and also realizing the privilege i had in dropping off and picking up as i wished.

i remembered something that’s been constant in my life—my ability to be very comfortably singular and myself, even when tied to someone or wanting hopelessly (& kinda to my own detriment, as i was at the time and through my childhood and adolescence, being constantly infatuated with unattainable adults/mentors/teachers as i felt very disconnected from my peers and was always weirdly friends with adults/mentors/teachers, also being attached to my precociousness--something left over from growing up around adults, treated as one, and feeling detached and/or protective of other children around me). and i thought, how cruel to myself to not value how hard i go for things that spark me--my passions just because of the associations around them, to be ashamed of who i was then because of loving people and being made to feel it was wrong or crazy, to be ashamed of how i feel deeply and can appreciate many types of people while also keeping myself, being in my own world. people strive for this singularity and ardor and it’s always been central to who i am. trying to appreciate it finally and shuck off the old shame.

enamored by cadiz, small peninsular beach city, morocco straight across the water. the music of andalucia , how tied landscape was to flamenco and the language. how tied violence and erasure were, as well. gobbling up and taking everything in—the palimpsest of the landscape—violence, resilience, colonialism, appropriation, artistry, lineage, mad hope. the immersion program i was in was not about sugarcoating or denying the truth of spain’s colonial history and present—genocide, violent misogyny, extreme racism, anti-semitism, islamophobia, homophobia, anti-roma/gitano sentiment and violence that the country was built on and still breathes through actively—it was palpable, hanging in the air, visible on the street socially among people, living in the bricks of buildings that generations of people were violently disappeared and displaced from. the thread of power through time of the catholic church in spain, too. fascism and franco. how when i was in granada, we were very close to the location where federico garcia lorca was murdered and thrown in an unmarked ditch, never found. the last gasps of fascism in spain currently (as of 2005-6) and our teachers (many of which were politically radical, some were not, many of which were queer—how lucky i was!) explaining the continuing, lingering influence of it in parts of society and culture, as nothing ever really goes away.

i remember going to a flamenco performance in a garden courtyard in sevilla late in the evening. the audience was arranged around the dancers and musicians. they danced through the aisles of us and there were dim blue floor lights lining the aisles and lights woven into trellises covered in ivy and vine plants. it was ethereal and beautiful and strange and sad. heart gushing with everything, silly infatuations, wanting to escape my family and nyc forever, yet loving them so thoroughly and feeling some sense of belonging still--poor/working class irish/italian catholic mess that we were, and betty, so similar so different, coming from a middle/upper-middle class east african and irish american catholic mess. us, that night: was i feeling preconceived loss or just hopelessness, or after-the-fact heartbreak, i don’t remember—all a wash now, all was happening at once anyway, as usual—the having and the losing. but, flamenco is all hormone rush, all torturous, longing agony, all hunger & confusion, all that teenage stuff. the simultaneity of past, present, future desire compounded and layered on each other—loving someone in real time, loving someone from a point of expected future loss—inevitable? loving someone before you know it, or before they know it, or when they sense it and you don’t or vice versa, loving someone though it’s over, trampled, or it would never begin or it made no sense, the foolishness, the invitation of suffering that loving anything brings to you. being human together. feigning indifference & requiring attention, walking toward and running away. the choices we make. how flamenco unapologetically announces all of these things and requires being fully expressive of the truth of your heart and your body, no judgment or time to analyze, and it feels cellular almost, as well as really huge. and you don’t have to be in love with an actual human or to ever have known “romance,” to know the feeling. and flamenco is expansive in its holding of romance, sexuality, eroticism—it can actually have nothing to do with being or wanting to be coupled. it’s mostly about living and feeling and suffering, loving whatever it is moves you to regardless of how perilous it can be to do so. but especially how natural and life-changing it is to do so even if it explodes.

that otherworldly experience and everyone feels it. men no less passionate or full of emotion than women, actually sometimes more so. men who can’t eat, who lose sleep for love, men who suffer. i didn’t know men like that. i knew hard men, stoic, belying emotion. women who wait and wait, who will accept love’s bare minimum, who do whatever they have to. i knew many women like that, was already that since childhood and was becoming that more as time elapsed. but also women who could destroy you, could destroy themselves because it was all too much—i was experiencing that and i was that. voices thrown across the courtyard in rageful anguish til they hit a wall and broke into a thousand sharp pieces everywhere. irrevocable.

forbidden love and feelings—every love i’d ever had or dreamed of & every love i ever would, in some sense. not fitting molds, wanting to destroy any concept of what was right or pure. but the experience of withholding, love & death & falling apart, the harm of others’ addictions & intimate violences that eat at you forever and keep your eyes narrowed at intimacy. how you know love is not an escape from these truths and shouldn’t be treated as such—how you learn to not make that mistake, but you can’t control how others act. memories whose feelings came back to my body in spain 2005, 2006 and in nyc 2017—the feelings, but not the images. i don’t really know who or what hurt me first, if the beginning matters, how all of that filters into my growing experiences with relation. details are so vivid and obvious, some are just completely burned out. and origins probably aren’t the key to the truth or to the future anyway.

flamenco bringing out the fire i set in my head. the crazy femme, the lover of everything, of home—a sense i try to find everywhere. her own house, where it all started, s/he can’t stand anymore for what it means to her history, her future. burn it down, even with its first origins of joy, its mementos of togetherness. the sickness too overwhelming and too deep. needing its influence to be taken, engulfed, extinguished. natural. the noble thing about impossible loves, right, about family and anything really—to be so dedicated and loyal. setting fire to that and striking out toward something else, loyalty only if it’s earned. to learn to say no, for what you allowed for a long time to be eaten by flames, parts of other people, parts of yourself, parts of home. the things we reproduce. to approach the unknown, newness, a whole other way of being written over what you were, while still holding the innate truths of yourself, that core sense of connection you crave between yourself and everything, over everything else. faith.

#flamenco #spain #andalusia #queerness #transness #femmes #pain #love #longing #connection #intimacy #feelings #memory #lineage #trauma #collectivity

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