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agntofhydra · 5 years ago

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Sawbones // FIVE

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summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3!

part one. part two. part three. part four.

read on till the end for notes!

((the gif if 100% poe’s face in the cafeteria just read you’ll know what i’m saying))

SAWBONES

FIVE // WRONG CONVERSATION

“I’m gonna tell him.”

“You’re not gonna tell him.”

Jasti looked at you bitterly as she stabbed at...whatever was on her metal tray. The two of you were having lunch, or at least trying to. You rarely visited the base’s cafeteria, opting to just grab your meals and go, but you decided socialization might be good for you. Get your mind off things. And it was good, until Poe and a couple pilots from Red squadron walked in and were now sitting two tables behind you, directly in Jasti’s eye line as she sat across from you.

“Tell who what?” Ziff asked as he sat down next to Jasti, accompanied by another engineer whose name you could not remember.

“Doctor,” he nodded to you, and at your hesitation he supplied his name. “D’an Ralac. Blue squad calls me six, ‘cause uh, I’m Blue Six.”

You nodded back at him, still picking at your own food as Jasti seethed across from you,

“Seriously, tell who what?” Ziff tried again.

“Commander Dameron’s soulmate is a fake,” Jasti aggressively shoved her forkful of food into her mouth. Ziff turned to you, eyebrows raised as Race silently began eating his meal.

“There’s no way, he wouldn’t believe it unless he was absolutely sure.”

“Maybe he’s just stupid,” Jasti muttered and you kicked her shin under the table, earning you another bitter stare.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like you’re his actual soulmate, right?” Ziff tried to laugh off his question, but voiced his concern subtly when he looked at Jasti and repeated, “Right?”

Jasti’s glowering caused her to completely miss the tone of Ziff’s voice, and you restrained yourself from kicking at her again. Just because your relationship was officially in the compactor does not mean that hers had to be, too.

“She’s overreacting,” you told him, bringing your water to your lips.

“You’re underreacting,” Jasti replied incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

Your foot met her shin again on its own accord. “Keep your voice down!” you warned her, though you knew the boisterous laughter coming from Poe and his table made it impossible to overhear their conversation.

“There’s something going on you two aren’t saying,” Six spoke.

“We know who his soulmate is,” Jasti’s voice was finally neutral, though the expression on her face was begging you to come clean to the table. “And it’s not that pilot from Coruscant.”

Ziff, in his surprise, slammed his hands on the table. Hard. “Are you kidding? We have to tell him!”

You winced at the sound which, of course , interrupted the laughing from the table two behind you. The newfound silence that befell the cafeteria, coupled with the widening of Jasti’s eyes made your stomach absolutely flip.

“Blue Two,” you cringed when you heard Poe’s voice behind you, “you alright?”

Ziff’s eyes mirrored Jasti’s. “Uh,” he cleared his throat. “Yes, Commander! Impressed with the kitchen staff on how they prepared the fried prog today!”

You eyed the prongs on your fork, noting the durability and sharpness. If you were to stab the utensil into the side of your neck to hit your carotid, or in one of your intercostal spaces to pierce your lung, which would kill you quicker? If you went lung, you’d be dealing with tension pneumothorax, and ultimately would be waiting for the compression on your heart to lead to cardiac arrest. The whole ordeal would take around half an hour, whereas bleeding out of your carotid would take maybe 10 minutes. If you did either, you hoped FX-7 would take pity and let you wither away.

Ziff gave you a wink at what he thought was a great response and you begrudgingly put your fork down. You spared a glance over your shoulder to peek at Poe.

The table directly behind you was empty, allowing you a clear view of Dameron and his crew. Poe was sitting in your same position, and offered you a slight smirk when the two of you made eye contact. You hid your scowl by turning around.

“Y’should give your compliments back there,” Dameron said. “I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

Ziff nodded immediately. “Yes, Commander.” Maybe you’d stick the fork in his lung.

After a beat of time, Poe’s table returned to their previous conversations and Jasti turned to Ziff. You watched as she flexed her right fist, and you weren’t sure if it was to restrain her arm from jutting her elbow into his side or something else. You hadn’t had time to think about it before she was once again giving you a pleading expression.

You returned a flat look, blinking at her. She took it as reluctant acceptance.

“Y’know how Doc here can see her string, right?” Jasti began, her voice lowered. Six obviously didn’t, but he nodded anyway just to be included. She paused, looking at Ziff pointedly.

He nodded at her again, still maintaining eye contact. “Yes, I was present for that conversation. And?”

Jasti gave him the same blank look until the table could hear the gears in his head finally turn. You were pretty sure that Six had understood right away, judging by the way his lips pursed as he slowly let out the breath he was holding.

“You’re fucking kidding!”

Jasti laughed as she lightly bumped her elbow into Ziff’s side. “That’s what I said!”

You resumed poking at your tray. Unlike Ziff, you were not impressed by the fried porg.

“How long have you known?” He asked.

“Since the day I met you two in the med bay,” you murmured. It sounded way worse when you said it aloud.

“Doc, that’s been weeks. You’ve kept this from Commander Dameron?”

You nodded. “I didn’t think he’d believe me, and I was waiting for the right time. But it never came, and when it almost did I work-zoned him. And then he went and left for stupid Coruscant and met that stupid pilot that I have to do stupid paperwork on. They sent over her file this morning, and I looked at her measurements. I’m a little pissed.”

The table let you rant, this was the most you’d probably talked in one beat and they didn’t want to interrupt. They knew you needed to get it all out.

“So yeah, I fucked up,” you admitted. “And it’s way too late to do anything about it, because the damage has been done and I just need to get over it.”

You heard someone let out a low whistle from behind you and the hairs on your arms stood on end.

“That’s not very Doctor-like of you,” Poe said as he came up behind you and stood at the edge of your table. You reluctantly looked up to meet his gaze. “You’re supposed to fix damage, not cause it, right?”

The taunt was harmless, playful even. But since Poe had been boasting non-stop about his soulmate, and the fact that she’d be here within the coming days left you angry and raw. You felt like an exposed nerve, every touch and breath felt like an assault on your entire being. You’d kept your interactions with Poe at an absolute minimum, keeping him at arm's length. If you felt callow and bare now, imagine how hard it was to restrain it when he was talking to you about her.

“We all make mistakes. Surely you know that, don’t you Dameron?”

He narrowed his eyes, the faint upturn of his lips turning sour. You hated when he looked at you like that, with contempt. Like the thought of you left a bad taste in his mouth. He should be looking at you like he probably looks at her, laughing with you like he did with his table, touching you and putting his fingers in your mouth like he had in your dream.

Dream, you repeat to yourself firmly. You’d be lying if you said that dream wasn’t the only reason you were able to fall asleep most nights.

But this look that he was giving you right now was something that you deserved. Why would he treat you any different, treat you like his soulmate when he didn’t fucking know? He was too busy deluding himself that his soulmate was on Coruscant, counting the days until she was to arrive on D’Qar when in all actuality it was you, the woman sitting at this stupid metal table berating him, that was his soulmate.

“Maybe I need to come into the medbay for a check up,” he scratched at the scruff on his chin that you definitely had not fixated on these past couple days, “I must need to get a brain scan done since you’re so concerned with these helpful reminders.”

“Door’s always open,” you said with a sweet smile. The two of you held each other’s gaze for another few moments before Poe finally broke it with an eye roll. He nodded at the rest of your table.

“Have a good rest of your lunch, if you can,” Poe withheld his side glance back to you, “Glad you like the porg, Blue Two.”

With that, Poe was finally the one fleeing.

“Stars, you didn’t need to be a bitch to him!” Jasti kicked your shin this time. “Could you dig the hole you’re in any deeper?”

“Probably,” you offered. Jasti let out a groan as she rested her head on her arms on the table. Ziff and Six looked at you, puzzled.

“Don’t know why you did all that,” Six started. “Why further the animosity? Are you hoping for the thread to snap?”

You turned your attention to the green-tinged man to your right. “Can it do that?”

He shrugged, taking a small sip of his blue milk. “I’ve heard rumors, basically myths about it. If a soulmate dies, or gives up on the search, the thread will break. I don’t know if it can by the sheer power of will. You’re on your way to finding out, though.”

You frowned. “I don’t know what I want.”

Jasti threw her crumpled up napkin at your forehead. “You want him! Soulmate or not, that little squabble had some tension of the sexual kind to it.”

“Poe has sexual tension with everything,” you rolled your eyes. “The man reeks of it.” Ziff nodded in agreement and you gave him a weird look. It made you wonder what life looked like under Poe’s command. Especially for someone like Ziff. Six had also mirrored your expression, which made you feel a little bit better. Or worse. You really didn’t know.

Ziff was smart, talented and you were pretty sure he put all of that into being a pilot. He was tall, broad and his sandy blonde hair made many of the women on the base turn their heads. However, he only had eyes for his x-wing. That was, until a few weeks ago when he and Jasti had been side by side in your medbay. Now, Ziff had eyes for Jasti and his x-wing.

“I think you should just tell him,” Six shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t believe you?”

“Yes?” you said. “And he humiliates me, discredits my position and authority across the base. How is anyone going to come into my medbay and not look at me like I was another poor girl who made up the soulmate thread to bed Dameron?”

“But you didn’t make it up,” Ziff frowned. “It’s true.”

“How am I supposed to prove that?”

The table fell silent, Jasti Ziff and Six all deep in thought. You gave them a minute, but your patience was wearing thin. You’d been out of the medbay for too long, and FX-7 was sure to let you know that as soon as you got back.

“Thanks guys, but I really can’t do this right now,” you offered them a weak smile. You grabbed your tray as you got up from the table. Jasti opened her mouth to stop you, but fell silent. You dumped your food and placed the tray on the conveyor.

✗ ✗ ✗

As per usual, you were back in your office sorting through the mountains of files on your holopad. Specifically, you were sorting through files for the new incoming pilots from Coruscant. Five, to be exact. Physiologically speaking, they were all perfect. Maybe you’d get lucky when they got here and you’d have to ground one or two for high blood pressure or a heart murmur. You found yourself constantly going back to one file, though. Of the five, two were female. Yet one was human and the other Togruta. You’d heard a tale of one of Poe’s many escapades involving a Togruta woman that had not ended well, so you decided on the human.

Scoria Tane.

Fuck, even her name was pretty. You honestly were dreading her arrival in the coming days. Coruscant had been vague, giving the generals a time frame of arrival for the pilots. D’Qar and Coruscant did have different orbital periods and hours in the day, so you understood why you didn’t know an exact date. It added to your anxiety nonetheless.

In spare moments of time, you found yourself lapsing back to her tab. No photo, just the basic demographics. Although your mind wanted to inch there, you refused to compare her measurements to your own. A dangerous place, that was. A place you didn’t, couldn’t enter.

“Strange to find you here,” soft footsteps preceded the voice. “Do you usually linger here for long periods of time?”

“You’re very funny,” you lifted your head, hoping Leia wouldn’t notice you move Scoria Tane’s file off your screen. The voice in your head said her name like a slur.

“Someone has to be,” she smiled at you, lowering herself into one of the seats across from your desk. “It’s so...tense here. And I think to myself, tense ? In my resistance base?”

“Blasphemy, I agree,” you couldn’t repress your wide smile.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why it’s tense around here, would you, Doctor?”

“I’m afraid not,” you answered honestly. “Pilots haven’t been out in awhile. I’m sure they’re just antsy.”

“You say pilots, as in plural,” Leia raised an eyebrow. You furrowed yours.

“Yes?”

“You’re the funny one now. I happen to think it’s just because of one pilot in particular.”

You powered down your holopad as you placed it back in your drawer. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

Leia gazed at the wall, a soft smile on her face as though she were gazing out a window. Yet, nearly the entire Resistance base on D’Qar was underground so windows were not an option. You liked to assume that’s why they built your medbay so white and...bright. Create an atmosphere of pseudo-sunlight. She continued to gaze for a few more seconds until she returned her attention back to you.

“Your right hand, has it been bothering you, lately?”

“Occasionally,” you admitted. There was no use in hiding anything from Leia.

“I understand why you’ve kept it from him,” she folded her hands in her lap, “but what has it cost you?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks, releasing a deep breath that felt like you’d been holding for days. Leia had opened the floodgates, uncorked the bottle that you’d been stuffing this whole situation into. You felt the air of the room sting your eyes, or was it something else? Ignoring it, you pulled at your right pinky finger on top of your desk.

“Peace of mind,” you answered, then laughed. “My sleep.”

“He was so close to figuring it out,” Leia frowned. “I gave him a push, figured that would be all he would need. I should’ve known better - men almost always need you to spell it out for them.”

“Do you think I’m too late?”

Leia shook her head. “No, but you’ve certainly created yourself quite the challenge.”

Leia was right, reiterating what your friends had told you previously. Not only was it a feat in and of itself just to talk to Poe, but to change his mind? Especially about her, about Scoria Tane? To convince him that he’d been wrong - again? And that your callous words and strained relationship that you’d created with him was only because you were scared, and insecure.

As if she could hear them, Leia interrupted your thoughts.

“He’s more sensible than you think.”

“Respectfully,” you began, “have you been in the same room as the two of us? The way Poe interprets my words and opinions would not justify him as sensible.”

Leia rolled her eyes. “That’s because the two of you are always having the wrong conversation.”

“And what’s the right one?” you pressed.

“You think I would tell you?” Leia smirked at you as she stood. “That would be too easy. You have a couple seconds to figure it out though.”

As soon as you processed her words, Poe was entering your office, the whoosh of the double doors preceding his entrance. His stupid beautiful teeth shone under the fluorescent bulbs when he saw Leia. He regarded her warmly after she winked at you and made her leave.

As much as you repressed, you couldn’t ignore how fucking good Poe looked in his casual clothes. He looked good in anything - but today was just...too much. He was wearing his usual dark pants, loose enough to be comfortable and to move in, but still tight on his ass. He must’ve changed after eating, because the faded baby blue button up he wore with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows was a shirt you hadn’t seen, or at least noticed before. With the way the lightness of his shirt juxtaposed the black of his hair, his stubble, his eyes - you were sure it was new. There’s no way you would’ve missed it before. However, the subtle, almost pleasant softness that befell his features was something you did almost miss, though.

“Hey, Doc,” Poe sat down. You didn’t respond - not verbally, anyway. Your breath was caught in your throat as your eyes focused on the small, gold chain that hung around his neck and low on his chest. Your eyes traced the way it arched over the curve of his collarbones and disappeared past the neckline of his shirt. Poe cleared his throat again and your eyes left his chest to meet his eyes.

“Here for your scan?” you asked nonchalantly as you pulled your holopad back out of the drawer, giving yourself something to fidget with.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to know how the new recruits are looking.”

“All of them, or just one in particular?” you arched one of your eyebrows, your finger hovering over her tab.

He smiled, shrugging. It made you simultaneously want to gag and rip your clothes off. The buttoned collar of your medjacket felt like it was constricting on your airways as you swallowed thickly.

“Can I ask you a question, Dameron?” you gripped the holopad tightly. At your sudden seriousness, Poe rectified his posture and nodded.

“How did you,” you wanted to stab yourself, “How did you know? That it was her?”

You braced yourself, expecting him to lash at you, tell you it was none of your business. But when he didn’t, when he licked his lips slowly as he pondered his answer, it made you wish he would’ve. His response wasn’t one you wanted to hear, but you needed to know his reasoning.

“I can’t see my thread, but in these last few weeks, my finger has been throbbing. I can only imagine it’s tied there,” he rubbed at his left hand and you watched as his movements vibrated the string, causing yours to ache in turn. The thread was taught in the small distance between you, almost daring you to try and cut it.

“So, I just knew whomever it was, they were close. And when I went to Coruscant, and she told me we were connected, I just knew.”

The weight on your chest felt like your ribs were cracking, heart straining to pump your blood that felt like it had congealed in your veins.

“What if,” you tested your voice. “What if it isn’t her?”

“Wow,” Poe scoffed. “You’ve only read her file, you think that gives you a right to pass judgement?”

“No!” you cut him off. “I’m just offering another point of view. Like I always do. I’ve heard the stories, Dameron. I just think you should be carefull.”

Poe rubbed at his hand again. “Do you know how it feels, Doc? To search the whole galaxy, trying to find them? Only to fall short countless times?”

You shook your head. Of course you didn’t. You’d spent almost the entirety of your life on only three planets, and really hadn’t felt the desire to branch out to anymore. With the First Order gaining traction, it’s threat of another galactic war looming, you placed your work first. You always did.

“Can you even see your thread?”

You didn’t respond, eyes holding his as you saw your vision blur. You willed the tears away - not here, not now.

It was evident Poe was waiting for your response, so you swallowed before answering.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve never been curious to know who was on the other end? Never wanted to go out and find them?”

“It’s complicated,” you answered, eyes falling on his finger. The knot on his finger was mocking, almost taunting you.

“How is it complicated?” Poe asked. “You either want them or you don’t.”

“I do,” you said through your teeth. “But it’s not that easy, Dameron. You have no idea.”

He leaned towards you, hands on his knees. The length of your thread shortened, and momentarily you wondered what it looked like if the distance was closed.

“So help me understand,” Poe pleaded. “I just,” he stopped. Stewing on his words before he opened his mouth again. “I don’t get you. At all. You’re so hot and cold - mostly cold. We get along, and then we’re at each other's necks. I’m getting tired of this game, Doc. Aren’t you?”

He would make it so easy, you thought. It would be so easy to fall in love with him. You did want it, more than you’ve wanted anything in your life. To walk side by side with him amongst the halls of the base, kiss him before and after flight missions, actually go back to your quarters at night and know that he was there. Stars, you wanted nothing more than to have Poe Dameron in your bed, waiting on you. You wondered if he ever entertained the thought of you two together, maybe as soulmates or maybe not. Has Poe ever wanted you like you wanted him in this moment?

The thought scared you, the possibility that he hadn’t kept you silent. He closed his eyes, shaking his head as he sighed. Poe stood up, looking at you dejectedly.

“I am tired - “ you began quickly, not wanting him to leave. He paused, waiting to hear you out before the base rumbled with the force and scream of aircrafts entering the atmosphere.

Poe’s face lit up.

“We can make up later,” he smiled. “She’s here.”

and the plot thickens. i hope you enjoyed - how excited are we to meet these new pilots?? as always, love & feedback is appreciated and encouraged. xoxoxo. also, ziff = himbo. i do not makes the rules. but we love him.

TAGLIST (send a message / ask to be added!)

@yayrainday @samhollandssweaters @softly-sad @rebelgeneraldameron @btillys @daydreamerinadazedworld @teaofpeach @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @fandom-addict-aesthetics @peterwandaparker @bookaholicinwonderland @roserrys @clydesducktape @heythere-mel @justrunamok @corrupt-fvcker @lets-do-get-help

(please please send an ask or message to be added! it’s getting a little hard to check every chapter’s replies so i dont miss anyone! & if i did miss you, i’m so sorry please lmk).

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fic #poe dameron #soulmate au #red thread soulmates #red thread of fate #star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #pre-tfa #romance #slow burn #slooooow burn #mine #medic!reader #fem!reader #enemies to lover #coworkers to lovers #sawbones

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rederiswrites · 4 years ago

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My day has been weird enough to qualify as a story so far and it’s like, lunch time, so what the hell.

I wake up at 10:45, having slept through my alarm. Staring blearily at my phone, I realize that I’ve promised to meet someone to pick up animal feed at 11. Fifteen minutes away. Then I realize that my feet won’t move because all three of my cats are sleeping on them--together, for the first time ever. I take about 3.5 seconds to process that and get dressed, and fly out of the room, switching on grow lights as I go. My home is full of plants and grow lights.

Now I realize that I had not seen my husband since yesterday afternoon and he isn’t here. He drove 3 hours to Richmond to his sister’s to pick up a pinball machine from her, because she’s moving to a smaller house. Did he actually come home? I run to see if the van is there.

Which is when I realize that my van is of course full of pinball machine, and I am about to put four sacks of feed in it. Actually, full of pinball machine, what looks like the majority of a liquor cabinet in half-empty bottles, and a sack of handmade pottery. And a hand cart. But at least I can take out the hand cart, so....so I bash myself the fuck on the nose with the handle of a very sturdily made handcart. But I am in a Very Big Hurry, so I take about ten seconds to make sure that my nose is neither broken nor bleeding, either of which seems like a pretty realistic possibility, and then I go.

There is a Coke Zero can in the drink holder. Both of us loathe Coke and also diet food. I think of Jacob, driving at two in the morning, rage-chugging Coke Zero to stay awake. He’s put Gojira on the stereo, so now my fucking disorienting morning has a prog-metal fever dream soundtrack. Joe Duplantier screams about environmental degradation over staticky bass. I drive past flower farms and Christmas tree farms and horses and the abattoir that specializes in halal and the guy who never took down his five Trump flags but rather put up an “Expose the Bidens” sign.

I make the appointment, or rather we’re both late, and manage to fit the feed in next to the pinball machine. She talks excitedly about buying an RV and doing “travel school” with the kids. I have a knack for drawing conversation out of people, which is funny because on the flip side I’m a misanthropic crank who does their best to never leave home, but I am really very good at this.

It is at this point that I realize that I’ve been in such a fog all week that it has not occurred to me until this very moment that I am about to have house guests and I have cleaned nothing and bought no food in days. Because of the terrible brain fog and constant abdominal pain which I am still at this moment experiencing. Also I realize that my nose still hurts.

I stagger into the grocery store and wildly buy fruit and snacks and yogurt and whatever occurs to me, cringing at the thought of two extra children in my house, children who eat very different very specific things than mine. Once again I draw the cashier (and the bagger) into a lively conversation, which she continues for a minute after I have any reason to be standing there. This is not at all uncommon for me. Sometimes I get half the front end of the store talking and laughing. I am not exaggerating. The cart guy forgets himself as I leave and says “see you” instead of “have a nice day”, because we are all friends now I guess. In the parking lot I shove chips in my mouth for a minute, watching the horse on the Amish buggy parked across from me as it patiently waits and blinks. No, that is not a thing that normally happens.

Back past the rabid Trumpist, the Christmas trees, the bright red hard hat by the side of the road which someone will miss when they get to the work site. “This righteous anger boiling inside of us/ Won't last forever, don't fear to let it out,” screams Duplantier on my speakers. “Branches have grown through/ The wolf is your master.” Flower farm, dairy farm, field with draft horses and miniature horses together, holiday wreath made from a tractor tire, finally home, which I almost miss because I am a bit dissociated by now.

While putting away groceries, I break the handle off my favorite stock pot, and barely a minute later rip my thumb open on a loose wire in my pantry. I stand there for a minute, bleeding copiously and holding a bag of southern style green beans, too fuddled to figure out what to deal with first. In an hour, I will have guests.

I’m halfway through the day. It is vanishingly unlikely that my evening will be less strange.

#this is ridiculous

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moviesrotbrains · 4 years ago

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George A. Romero Day

I was nine or ten when I first saw Tom Savini’s NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (1990) remake. It wasn’t my first horror film. FRANKENSTEIN (1931) was an early memory, and a giant life-sized poster of his monster1 protected my room from nightmares. I’d often dream of Freddy Krueger despite never having seen any of his films at that point. Horror was everywhere in the 1980s.

I was in awe of LIVING DEAD ‘90. The idea of being trapped in a house with evils lurking outside. The paranoia that brewed among the humans… how the humans became monsters long before they were even bit. It was heavy stuff at the time. I don’t know if I drew parallels to all of this or simply thought, “Wow, those intense zombie fights that would make a cool NES game!”2

Savini’s redo was probably my first actual zombie experience. Again, I had seen zombies in other media, most like Scooby Doo or whatever other Saturday morning cartoon cribbed and remixed the undead concept to sell toys or comicbooks.

It was a few years later that I finally got to see George A. Romero’s original NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (1968). I can’t recall if I first saw it on TV or an actual repertory screening of it. Memory is weird that way. I do remember being thoroughly blown away by it, despite more or less having memories of the plot from that remake.

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I never had a problem with Black & White movies, having already been a full on film-junkie at that point, but somehow that black & white depiction of old school zombies felt hyper real. Unsettling. Fucking cool as hell. Unerving. Or maybe I was just a dumb kid. Oh, I definitely was a dumb kid, and still am, but that moment cemented George Romero in the pantheon of cinematic greats. Didn’t matter what else he did, he made NOTLD. He made a weighty zombie film full of social commentary and subtext.3 He popularized zombies. He didn’t need to do anything else.

Oh, but he did. He so did.

It was around the time I was starting to consume more horror4 that a classmate had cut some scenes into a film project we were working on. My jaw was on the floor when I first saw the gory display of gritty carnage.

“This is from the 70s?”

I knew so little. I definitely didn’t know those effects were also by Tom Savini, but everything was coming full circle, and that was one of the key moments that I fell in love with Savini without even knowing.

“You never seen this? Here, man, I’ll loan you it.”

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And that was when I first saw Romero’s DAWN OF THE DEAD (1978). Take some people of various walks of life and have them take refuge in an empty mall-- only to find the Zombies have returned to the place they frequented most.

“WHEN THERE’S NO ROOM IN HELL, THE DEAD WILL WALK THE EARTH!”

DOTD ‘78, The brutal and hilarious takedown of consumption and mall culture. Social Commentary, Zombie Gags, and Sick Kills. A film that’s loved by both critics and horror junkies. A film that said something and also entertained. George Romero in a nutshell.

A film that also became my gateway drug to Good Horror. And to Bad Horor. Again, I already loved horror. I loved the aesthetic, the vibe. Always drew monsters. Always collected weird monster toys. If a film was playing on a movie channel, I’d watch it.

But Romero’s DAWN OF THE DEAD was THE film that made me WANT to actually seek them out. The film that made me want to rewatch my older brother’s old worn Betamax tapes of classic 80s horror flicks. A film that introduced me to Dario Argento.5 A movie that got me into the music of Italian Horror Prog Rock legends, GOBLIN. The life changing event that made me a nut for Savini and every 80s fx guru around. A story that made we want to watch every zombie film I possibly could. Good or Bad, and there’s a lot of bad out there. But there’s also a lot of good. So much good.

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Romero’s DAY OF THE DEAD (1985) is one of those good zombie films. I saw a midnight screening with my dad at that same repertory cinema.6 This was Romero’s third DEAD film and took place on a military base. It introduced the concept of the military studying, training, and weaponizing the living dead. It also has one of the freakiest scenes involving hands and walls that still rattles me to this day. It has a stomach churning scene involving a ripped stomach. It’s wonderful, largely in part to once again utilizing Savini’s talents, as well as Greg Nicotero and Howard Berger-- who years later brought THE WALKING DEAD to your homes. Romero’s legacy still felt to this day.

That being said, Romero’s legacy was far more than just Zombie films, of course. He made a film, that’s rather timely now7, about a plague that made people crazy called... THE CRAZIES (1973). There was another about a vampire wannabe named MARTIN (1978). A spectacular 80s horror anthology film series called CREEPSHOW8 (1982 & 1987). And a wonderfully bizarre film about a homicidal monkey named, appropriately enough, MONKEY SHINES (1988). I saw that last one before I even knew who he was but I never really forgot it. And those are just a few.

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He revisited his LIVING DEAD films with additional sequels in the 2000s and 2010s and was working on another up until his death. I was very lucky to briefly thank him during a convention, a year or so before he passed. Thanked him for the films. For everything.

He didn’t just impact me, of course. He impacted the people he worked with, who’ve gone on to impact other people in turn. He’s impacted the fans who got into horror because of him. He’s impacted the horror fans who weren’t even fans of his, because they most definitely liked something that was made by someone who was inspired by George Romero.

You’ll see it with a DOTD’s actor cameo in a Rob Zombie film, or a gruesome creature effect in a micro-budget classic. You’ll see it in a modern classic like TRAIN TO BUSAN (2016) or while laughing your guts out at SHAWN OF THE DEAD (2004).

We aren’t just talking about movies, we’re talking books, music, and video games. 90s SIMPSON’s references. We’re talking art, tattoos, and comics. RPGs, Board games, Toys, and Funko Pops. Those Halloween decorations you keep in your home all year long . The clothes you wear. Your creepy and kooky badass goth aesthetic. A lot of what we love about horror today is thanks to George A. Romero.

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He didn’t create zombies… but he certainly gave them life. He did more than that. He made horror important again.

I can’t do justice to George A. Romero with words. His work speaks for itself. So today, on what would have been his 81st Birthday, watch some Romero. If you’re out there quarantining, staying at home, under a curfew, and fearing the unfathomable, infectious dangers lurking outside your door… definitely watch Romero.

This decade is off to a weird start, luckily we have Romero’s influence to get us through it.

Happy Birthday, George! And thank you for infecting me with horror.

-Theo Radomski, MOVIES ROT BRAINS

photo via Global News

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ENDNOTES FROM THE GRAVE

1. And you know what? I still call him Frankenstein. Because he’s essentially his son. That’s his creation. And Victor would have had the hubris to name his creation after himself if he had not abandoned that poor schlub. But I digress…

2. Actually, that’s exactly what I thought. And about 30 years later, Zombies are still a staple of modern video gaming, from Resident Evil and Doom still going strong after three decades, to Call of Duty and Red Dead Redemption still having Zombie mods. To every friggin’ game out there that has any undead horror creeping about. The nine-year-old me is having a blast right now.

3. I had definitely caught on the subtext and themes by that point that I may have missed while watching the remake as a kid. Still a dumb kid, though.

4. Thanks in part to HBO’s TALES FROM THE CRYPT reruns on FOX. Expect another nonsensical rambling piece on that show and the 50s comics that inspired it sometime in the future.

5. And that opened the doorway into Giallo, Fulci, and a whole slew of Italian Exploitation and American Slasher films and that’s a whole other long screed for another time.

6. My dad was another reason I love this genre. He loved horror movies. I still hear his voice in my head saying, “Ooooh, It’s a Scary Movie!” in his German accent.

7. Actually, aren’t they all?

8. Which has also had a revival in the form of Shudder’s excellent new CREEPSHOW anthology series made by Romero’s DAY OF THE DEAD Alumni Greg Nicotero! See how it’s all connected?

#HORROR #GEORGE ROMERO #NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD #DAWN OF THE DEAD #DAY OF THE DEAD #ZOMBIES #HORROR MOVIES #george a. romero #monkey shines #creepshow #graveyard ramblings #moviesrotbrains #movies rot brains

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marvelousmatt · 5 years ago

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The Accidental Comedy of Matt Berry

The star of IFC’s detective-series spoof ‘Year of the Rabbit,’ famed for his booming voice and over-the-top faces, never set out to be funny

Matt Berry as Detective Inspector Rabbit in 'Year of the Rabbit.' Ben Meadows/IFC

If you know Matt Berry from his most famous roles — such as The IT Crowd’s idiot boss Douglas Reynholm, Toast of London’s pompous struggling actor Steven Toast, or the preening and lascivious vampire Laszlo on What We Do in the Shadows — talking to him over the phone is sort of like meeting his un-evil twin. Where his characters are outrageous and inappropriate, Berry is circumspect and gentlemanly. While they pronounce every word as if they’re doing Shakespeare in the Park, with a ponderous theatricality, his signature rich baritone comes over the line from London sounding muted by comparison. It’s as though he’s playing the straight man in a sketch of his own life.

Whatever absurd and profane notions he has rattling around in his head, Berry saves them for his work. His latest offering, IFC’s Year of the Rabbit (a collaboration among Berry, producer Ben Farrell, and writers Andy Riley and Kevin Cecil), is a send-up of the period detective shows that are a staple of British television. Set in Victorian times, it centers on his titular character, Rabbit, a cranky copper who bumbles through every episode but slyly solves the whodunit in the end — a kind of gruff, English Columbo in a waistcoat. In the “why not” fashion typical of Berry’s comedy, the character is missing an eyebrow (a trait the show repeatedly explains away with the intentionally unconvincing line that it was chewed off by a dog last Christmas). He’s named Rabbit — his actual first name, with no surname — not because of any correlation with, say, the Chinese calendar, but because… well, just because.

“His father couldn’t be bothered giving any of the kids any normal names, so he just named them after animals and then left them outside a church,” Berry says matter-of-factly, as if Rabbit and his father are real. Pressed on the matter, he adds, “We have a huge history over here of these shows, Agatha Christie and stuff, and they all have these names, Inspector This and That. I just wanted to do something stupid with that — give him an animal name and not anything else. So he really is as earthy as you can get in that way. There’s nothing fancy about him at all.”

Rabbit is an inveterate boozehound with a colorful vocabulary. He beats up a schoolteacher on career day to demonstrate interrogation techniques to the children. He tells his rookie partner that the way to keep warm during a wintertime stakeout is to piss himself. He describes the London of his day as “a rat eating its own babies. Babies made of shit. And once it’s eaten its own shit babies, it shits them out again.” He is paired, reluctantly, with two bright-eyed and bushy-tailed colleagues to form a crack investigative team, a juxtaposition which only underscores his baser qualities.

“He’s basically trying to hide the fact that he’s incredibly hungover and not firing on all cylinders,” Berry says. “Whereas his younger sidekicks won’t be, because when you’re that young, you know, you get over a hangover by like 10 o’clock in the morning. I wanted him to be dull, in terms of reactions to things, but effective.”

Robert Bathurst, Matt Berry, and Harry Peacock in Toast of London. Photo Credit: Kuba Wieczorek/IFC/CH4

Ineptitude and buffoonery are much more the calling cards of Steven Toast, whose massive ego blinds him to his own failings. He is an oblivious object of mockery at the hands of his voiceover producers, a pair of douchey hipsters named Clem Fandango and Danny Bear, and his mistress, Mrs. Purchase (wife of Toast’s acting nemesis Ray “Bloody” Purchase), looks eternally bored during their trysts. His long-suffering agent has to force him to become a laxative pitchman, yet he complains that she’s not scoring him Oscar-caliber roles.

If Toast is the character closest to Berry’s heart, it’s for good reason. Despite a brand of humor that seems firmly rooted in the British tradition — the surreality and silliness of Python, the cartoonish prurience of Benny Hill — Berry, 45, maintains that he wasn’t especially interested in comedy growing up. He cites as his primary influence not comedic greats such as Peter Sellers or contemporaries like Steve Coogan, but “straight actors, people that normally weren’t trying to be funny.” The more “mannered” and “self-important” the star, Berry says, the funnier he found them. The line to Toast is clear — especially in his puffed-up diction and bizarrely exaggerated pronunciation of ordinary words (such as his praise of guest-star Jon Hamm’s “charismaaaaaaaeeeeeee”). Imagine the famous outtakes of a drunk Orson Welles filming a Paul Masson wine commercial, and you’re on the right track.

Berry’s career in comedy came as a complete surprise to him. He grew up in the hamlet of Bromham in Bedfordshire, about two hours north of London, in a wholly unartistic family who had “normal, decent jobs,” he says. “My mom was a nurse, my sister went into law — nothing like what I ended up doing.” Still, his parents were totally supportive — worried, but supportive — as he stumbled through temp gigs and patches of unemployment as a young man.

He was far more interested in painting and music — and, in fact, today is an accomplished musician who’s recorded eight studio albums (prog rock-ish, inflected with funk) as well as the scores and themes to numerous TV series, including Toast. That show’s frequent musical interludes, gonzo song parodies a la Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, speak to Berry’s true comedic beginnings. In between stints at the London Dungeon — a haunted-house experience where actors play figures from gruesome corners of the city’s past, like Jack the Ripper — he managed to book solo gigs as a singer-songwriter. But he found that spiking his performances with humor won over a crowd.

Natasia Demetriou and Berry in What We Do In the Shadows. Byron Cohen/FX

“I was playing before comedians, and the gigs just seemed to go quicker and better if I put some comedy into the songs or the bits in between the songs,” Berry says. “I only did it so I’d fit in with what was going on after. Then I really got to like it.”

Fellow performers Richard Ayoade and Matthew Holness noticed his act, and cast Berry in a horror/sci-fi spoof they created called Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace. From there, his television career exploded, with recurring roles in several series before his breakout in 2007 with The IT Crowd. Despite a nomination for “best newcomer” at that year’s British Comedy Awards and a 2015 BAFTA for Best Male Performance in a Comedy for Toast, Berry insists he doesn’t have any particular aptitude for the form, and draws a blank when it comes to defining his style. Mostly, he chalks it up to timing (“Whether it’s music or comedy, that’s the most important thing for me”) — as well as a lack of training.

“I’m not held back by any sort of rules and regulations in terms of performance,” he says. “I’ll just do what feels natural, and because nobody’s said in the past, ‘Well you can’t really do that, because of this,’ you just do it. If it works, it works, and if it doesn’t, you just try something else.”

He does acknowledge one foolproof stylistic flourish that may be deeply ingrained: a true relish for the scatological and sophomorically sexual. See: Laszlo’s vulva topiaries, or the preposterously elastic faces Toast makes while he’s shagging Mrs. P (“Hang on — my balls are about to fizzzz!”) or pleasuring himself to old-timey images of women in military uniforms. A key moment in Rabbit involves the inspector having a pocketful of dog poop.

“I suppose that’s the British toilet humorist in me,” Berry admits. “It doesn’t matter where you go in Europe, toilet humor is enjoyed by all. Being from the U.K., it’s in you, like, from birth. You know, if you’re little and people are laughing at something all around you, it kind of sticks. If it’s something that my granddad laughs at and my dad laughs at, there’s a good chance that I’ll laugh at it, too.”

#matt berry #year of the rabbit #what we do in the shadows

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roscoe-me-and-this-fuckin-kid · 5 years ago

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My Ryden Recs

not in any particular order

The Heart Rate of a Mouse Series (11/10)

~513k words

Ryan "Heterosexual" Ross and his incredibly popular prog rock band, The Followers, start their summer tour for their new hit album "Boneless" in June of 1974. However, Ryan begins to take a shine to their new roadie, the ever mysterious Brendon No-Last-Name-Given, who dodges questions about his past and flaunts his flamboyant homosexuality. After an assault by a member of the supporting act, Brendon and Ryan get their payback, and begin to bond. But much to Ryan's confusion and alarm, he starts to want something he can't let himself have, starts to feel something he can't let himself feel.

--Okay I kinda lied. This list is in no particular order EXCEPT for this one. This one is the best. Anna Green owns my ass. I'm not someone who's picky about first vs third person, but if you are, then just this once throw that out the window and read this utter masterpiece. Ryan's character development throughout is so touching, but my god he fucks up a lot. One of my friends who has gone through the process of buying the physical copies and annotating them says that Ryan majorly fucks up over 50 times. Emotional rollercoaster straight ahead!--

Freaks (7/10)

~45k words

Ryan's face was permanently disfigured when he was 12 years old, and since then, the only person who has ever stood by his side is his best friend Spencer. After earning the nickname "Freak" in high school, he finally accepts that nobody will ever want him, or ever treat him normally again. But after an accident that lands him temporarily in the hospital, he meets Brendon. They get along great, and Ryan begins to fall in love. One small problem though:

Brendon had been recently blinded. Neither of them know if it's permanent, and Ryan is sure that if Brendon knew about his face, he would leave him forever.

--I really liked this one. It makes you sit on edge and every single time you think that Ryan will finally confess and tell the truth, he blue balls you like an asshole. This story is so sad and so sweet, I definitely recommend. Also, there's some background Joncer, which is really cute. Definitely a worthy read if you're looking for some angsty fluff. Oh, and a little aside: the author, spazzyskittles on LJ, actually beta-ed a lot of Anna Green's Ryden fics, including THROAM! So do with that what you will ;)--

The Red Eyed Owl Series (10/10)

~403k words

As one of the best players of one of the best National Hockey League teams, the Chicago Hounds, Ryan Ross has everything he could ever want. Young, famous, and free to do whatever he damn well pleases, the world either wants him or wants to be him. But after a leg injury that could potentially ruin his career, Ryan begins to realise that perhaps he doesn't have everything. Perhaps some things can mean so much more than women throwing themselves at you every chance they get and receiving bottomless drinks at sports bars. Perhaps he could fall in love.

--This was actually recommended to me by @wandering-verses and it was 100% worth the read. I broke out crying in the middle of class during the second book, and I cried again at 3 am when I stayed up all night to finish it. It's one of those that fucks you up so bad that you can't read anything else for a little while after finishing. Now, both the authors are from Spain, so English isn't their native tongue, but it's so well written that I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't read the notes at the very beginning. An all time Ryden fave.--

Missing In Action (10/10)

~204k words

In where the American Civil War goes differently, the nation once known as the United States of America is instead separated into two: DURA and Beauregia. The latter didn't change much in terms of their economy. Slavery is still legal, and the kingdom is ruled under a tight, Christian monarchy. Their king is Boyd Beauregard. His only son, crown Prince Brendon Beauregard, heir to the throne, resides in the highly respected Saint Francis' Academy. DURA on the other hand developed quickly, a democracy founded on new technology and equitable ideals.

Everyday, bipartisanship seems farther away from grasp, and DURA, realising that cooperation is impossible, creates the DURA investigative bureau. Identifying the crown prince as the Royal Family's weakest link, they realise that he could become an infinitely invaluable asset to them. Agent Ross, under the pseudonym "Ryan Hastings", is chosen to go undercover, enroll in Saint Francis' boarding school, infiltrate the Prince's friend group, and gain his trust by any means necessary.

--I'm ashamed to admit that I let this one pass me by for a while. I read the words "American Civil War" and I automatically assumed that this would be a mid 1800's Civil War fic about closeted gay soilders, and I'm not against that, but the premise didn't really interest me. But once I finally caved and started reading, I quickly realised not only was the premise entirely different, but it was really fuckin' good. Read this!!!!--

Esoteric Contagion (8/10)

~18k words

He wakes up with a note stuck to his forehead that reads, “You traded your memory in a spell. It was worth it.” The note is signed George Ross. He wonders if that’s his name.

In which things are lost and gained and remembered and forgotten, in that order.

--Despite being the shortest on this list, I loved it to death. You will cry so hard, I promise. This story is so sad. The author can deal so many shocking blows in less than 20,000 words, and you will be completely invested. I don't want to spoil anything, but it's massively underrated, and it will fuck you up.--

Two Vatos Locos Series (7/10)

~311k words

When you have your first dream with your soulmate, everything changes. But after years and years of watching all his friends have their dreams and fall in love, Ryan started to wonder if he would ever has his dream. At twenty, Ryan started to get desperate. He went to doctors, therapists, even a fucking palm reader. No one could tell him what was wrong with him. There was only one explanation: his soulmate had to be dead.

Ryan spent endless hours laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, begging, wishing, praying to have his dream and meet his soulmate. One day, with blood gushing down his face and vomit coating his tongue, his prayers were finally answered.

And now, as he stares at this scared, helpless boy, with bloodied rope burns around his wrists and tears staining his cheeks, he wishes that they never were.

--The title "Dos Vatos Locos Lleno de Carnalismo y Inamorates" roughly translates to "Two Crazy Dudes Full of Carnality and Infatuation," which is definitely accurate. I did enjoy this fic; it was cute, sad, and very interesting, but if you are interested in reading, you will need to be patient at times. Some passages seem like filler and the writing in a few places is kinda dry or cringey. But it's still overall a good story though. WARNING: Brendon is underage for most of this fic, but nothing sexual happens until he is of age.--

The Way Home From Nowhere Series (9/10)

~158k words

After his parents find out about his relationship with another boy, Brendon Urie makes a snap decision to flee from his abusive home. After a quick makeover to hide his identity, he decides to thumb a ride. He starts living the life he never even dreamed he could. Talking openly about things like sex, condoms, and homosexuality- he's happier then he's ever been.

There's one problem though.

His new roommates, Ryan and Spencer, have no idea that he is the missing Mormon boy from the nearby town of Summerlin.

--Ladies and gents, welcome to my first ever Ryden fic! This will always be a favourite of mine. Both Brendon's arc and Ryan's are are so heartbreaking, and there were so many times that I wanted to reach into the story and give Dallon a hug. So many tragedies in this story, and not all of them solved. I don't have any empathy for Brendon's parents in this story, but I feel so hard for his siblings, and for Marc. I just wish they knew. This story is so heartbreaking and yet so happy. Will play with your emotions like they're a shiny new toy.--

Filthy Lucre (10/10)

~362k words

Ryan Ross is living the American wet dream. He’s rich, he’s good looking, he gets paid just to turn up at parties and he spends his days drinking, doing drugs and climbing into bed with eager and willing boys and girls. His parents and PA beg him to quit, and his brother turns up his noise at his destructive lifestyle, but Ryan is desperate to sink into the void, escape the memories of what his father's friend did to him when he was fifteen.

Brendon Urie is a man bordering on desperation. He whores himself out to millionaire bankers and CEOs to fund his boyfriend's heroin addiction and pay off his ungrateful father's medical bills. Things could be worse, though. He's lucky enough to have a roof over his head, to be living with the love of his life, to no longer have to hook on the street, but instead be privileged enough to turn tricks in the wealthy circles of Wall Street and Goldman Sachs.

Where a broken boy meets another broken boy, and falls in love.

--Normally, I would never recommend an unfinished fic, let alone fic that hasn't been updated in four years, unless it was it was so good and so engaging that it made me literally scream. Trust me when I say that you have not experienced true hatred until you read this fic. I have literally never hated a character more in my entire life, and I know who Dolores Umbridge is, for reference. The best thing about this fic, in my opinion, is that the characters, whether good guys or bad guys, do evil. And they do it on purpose. Because the characters feel and act as though they're real, and real people fucking suck.--

The Black Rose Season (8/10)

~158k words

Ryan Ross' life is essentially over when his scholarship is inexplicably cancelled and he will be forced to pay his way through school. As a young, broke college student, Ryan is desperate to find cash fast, but to no avail. Just when he thinks all hope is lost, a mysterious benefactor promises to pay his tuition in full, on one condition: Ryan is infiltrate Sigma Chi Beta, the most prestigious and cultish fraternity that Swan University has to offer. And if, by some miracle, Ryan succeeds, his mission is clear:

Befriend Brendon Urie, fellow Swan Sigma, and, more importantly, alleged leader of Sigma Chi Beta's secret society, which might not even exist. He is to document his findings, and send them to his benefactor. One small problem though: Brendon fucking hates his guts.

--Did I mention that Anna Green owns my ass? Because Anna Green owns my ass. This one is so fleshed out, and there are some moments where it really spikes you in the chest. Every time that Patrick comes onto the page, my interest piques, and I remember That One Scene™ that completely changed my perspective of him (You'll understand once you read). Besides... college AU? Secret societies? Betrayal? Enemies to lovers? Sexual tension? Need I say more?--

I have more fics to recommend if you guys like this list, so tell me if you want more fic recs

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xellandria · 5 years ago

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tw: death

My father died sometime last night. My mom woke me up at around 4:20 (blaze it?), after she found him, ran around in a panic for a bit (her words), and called 911. I’d only gone to sleep a couple hours earlier, and neither of us had checked on him until then (he went to bed much earlier than the two of us ever do) so it’s hard to say when it would have happened; we might learn more later, or we might not. I’m not actually sure how much more information we’ll get—or want, really—when whatever examination happens happens, or if there will be an examination/autopsy/whatever. All I know about that kind of thing comes from media, and it’s always convenient for media to have an autopsy.

About nine months ago, he was out on a hike and slid down some scree and hurt his back in some way. Prior to the whole pandemic, he’d been going through all sorts of various treatments and tests to figure out what was wrong and how to fix it, but he’d been in pain for a while. Supposedly it was at least getting a little better with time—mom says he hadn’t taken his pain meds for the last fifteen days or so—but it was definitely there, and he hadn’t been exercising much (if at all) as a result, and gained a lot of weight from the inactivity.

About a week ago, he started coughing and having trouble breathing, and apparently was having issues sleeping as well. He called his doctor about it yesterday, and they had him go get tested for Covid. The results for that won’t be back til Mondayish, but it’s sort of a moot point now, I suppose. Well, partly moot—if he tested positive, mom and I definitely have to be a lot more nitpicky about our own health. We’ve not been going out except as absolutely necessary, but I can’t help thinking that we did go to Walmart and Costco on the 16th and while he was wearing a mask of some sort on that trip, his mask procedure was not the best and that was about a week ago. That’d be a little fast for Covid symptoms I think, but maybe?

I don’t know. I wasn’t hearing much about it (we’ve been on different tracks for the past week so I haven’t seen much of him) but when we were talking to various relatives about an hour ago, mom seemed to imply that it was a lot of trouble breathing—which makes me ask why he didn’t do something about it if it was really that bad, but that’s not something I can or should ask at this point; I can’t ask him and giving her more to agonize about or regret is absolutely pointless (I still beat myself up on bad days for not being sterner about getting Emmett to a vet when I knew he wasn’t fully right, and he died like five or six years ago at this point; I absolutely do not want to inflict that kind of thing on my mother about her husband, for god’s sake, and I didn’t push harder for my own health and safety when I was having heart issues last year until I finally caved and went to the ER; I could have made that trip a lot sooner too instead of fucking around with my doctor half-ignoring me and limply running tests for six months).

Because it’s just me and mom out here on this coast, we’re probably not going to have a funeral. Things would probably be different if we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic (his sisters might want something, I don’t think we thought to ask), but they can’t come out here and we can’t go over there and neither of us really want to deal with it. She knew his preferences (at least for disposal—he wanted to be cremated) so we’ve got that under control, at least.

I’m sure it’s partly shock, but I definitely feel guilty as hell that I’m glad that the pandemic is giving us a good excuse to not have a funeral. Maybe he would have wanted one? I don’t know. I know my own preferences (only if my survivors need it for themselves; I don’t believe in ghosts or anything like that, but the idea of death and corpses and such spooks me something awful and funerals and burials and such are obviously the worst for that) and mom was the one who said no when I asked her if she wanted one (though maybe I should ask again when we’re both less shocky). If the dead do exist beyond death in some capacity, I hope he understands that it’s not that we don’t love him... but that’s a lot of money and time and mental energy for a lot of pomp and circumstance that doesn’t make... well, I was going to say “doesn’t make anybody feel better” but someone must get comfort from that kind of thing, even if I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone who has.

There’s a lot of unknowns right now. Dad was the one who handled all the household finances and I know he never went over it all with me, and I got the impression that he and mom never got around to it either (though we both mentioned that it was something we’d been thinking about, it’s obviously too late now). Mom’s worried about the taxes, and what bills are on auto-pay and all that, and it’s going to be a nightmare to go through his computer and phone and make sure all that stuff is handled... but that’s not today’s worry. I mean, I almost wish it was—it’d give me something to do now that we’re done talking to the EMTs and the police and the people from the funeral home and calling the relatives (and before I work up the nerve to call his old work friend, who is the only other person I can think of that deserves to know), but it’s also not something to walk into with two hours of sleep and a broad-but-vague understanding of how to access the data, but not what to do with it.

I haven’t cried yet, and I feel guilty about that too (though again, I’m putting it down to shock). Cat death/injury is so triggering to me that I burst into tears nearly at the mention/thought of it, but my own father is gone and I’m just sitting at my computer, typing out a lengthy essay about how I want to consider myself a piece of shit for it, but I know it’s all part of the process, etc. etc. I remember when my parents woke me up to tell me my maternal grandmother had died, I definitely cried then (and was angry) so I know it’s possible for me to feel things, or was at one point. I’m sure the depression isn’t helping (and the fact that I think my med dosage may not be good enough anymore).

I’m sort of glad for the pandemic too, for the social distancing and masks that all the strangers that came to our home at 4-6am were wearing because I haven’t taken a shower in a couple days and I am disgusting and unshaved, but hopefully they didn’t notice. At least they didn’t comment on it in my hearing, so I can maybe hopefully pretend.

Anyway. I’m currently distracting myself by writing this out, but there’s not much more I want to say at this point. I’ve posted out of my guild’s raids indefinitely for the moment (it was the first thing I did after I got out of bed while we were waiting for the EMT, and the second was tweet about it; my priorities are so fucked, y’all). I don’t really know whether I’ll be able to stay on top of D&D—it’s only once a week, it’s a much smaller group of people who are much less likely to make some sort of unthinking or triggering remark (frankly, the idea of listening to my guild leader and some of the non-raiders talk about their jobs as doctors/upcoming medical practitioners is absolutely not what I need in my life right now, and I can’t tell 19+ other people to watch every word that comes out of their mouths or from their fingers above and beyond the guild rules because it might make the baby cry (or tilt her off the face of the earth)... but I can probably get away with asking only four other people to do that) and it’s not like we’re doing much where there might be schedule conflicts. I’m gonna have to tell them for sure (well, Naha knows cos he follows me on twitter, and Kattii might cos she also follows me but I’m not sure if she keeps up with her timeline, but I don’t think the others do). I should definitely not isolate myself entirely—I don’t know a lot right now, but I know that’s a real bad idea no matter how depressed I was before this happened—so I may keep the D&D up.

I’m not sure if I should go to the Sunday Jaina runs or not, since I won’t really be part of the prog team and shouldn’t take mounts out of the mouths of people who will actually be around. I already felt kinda guilty about going to last week’s when I’d posted out of raid for mental health reasons (and had missed the week before’s entirely for same). I dunno. I’ve got a day and change to think about that one, and what I want to do with myself.

Oh, and M+ is a thing too isn’t it, fuck me. I dunno. If I do Jaina and I do D&D, I should probably at least do the M+ too; it’s only one or two runs a week even if it has been stressful because we’ve been scrambling for a filler every week for a few months now (Intol’s been wrapped up in the whole pandemic thing on his side of life, and none of us have had the time or energy to find a consistent/reliable filler until he’s ready to come back). At least I have a good excuse to not be the one scrambling for that weekly filler anymore, eh? lol :T That’s also a small group size so that should be all right. Jaina will be touchy for the larger group size reason too actually, now that I think about it (although I can probably get away with not being on discord for most of the run).

I dunno. I’m rambling now, and now I’m also rambling at Naha in DMs so maybe I should stop rambling in at least one location.

#xellafail #tw: death #just in case you needed a second trigger warning #god today's a day and it's only been five hours #actually five hours is a lot more than I thought it was gonna be #so there's that I guess lol

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eldritchsurveys · 5 years ago

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1015.

5k Survey LXIX

3501. Is 'no glove, no love' your STRICT policy? >> I don’t have policies for activities I don’t participate in in the first place.

3502. What is the best Epic movie (examples of epics: ben-her, gone with the wind, last temptation of christ)? >> I don’t know what else falls into the category of “epic movie”, so... can’t really answer. 3503. Finish the sentance. Hey, Hey we're the: Monkees People say we: But we're too busy: The time to hesitate is: now You're too: physical It's a nice day to: start again 3504. Have you ever had 'missing time'? >> Only in the context of being intoxicated (and that one botched suicide attempt). 3505. Have you ever sent an electronic greeting? >> Maybe a long time ago.

3506. If you could send anonymous tips to people you knew who would never ever find out who sent them who would you send the following tips to? doesn't know when to leave: poor crotch hygenie: talks to much: band/art/dream is going nowehere: most likely to get arrestted: needs to get their life together: bad taste in clothes: bad taste in music: needs a hobby: 3507. Are you more likely to download porn or disney movies? >> I don’t download much of anything, really. Streaming has become my default mode of consumption. 3508. What is it with people? >> ??? 3509. Do you eat too much sugar? >> I can assure you that I do not. 3510 Imagine you have aband. Let's name your band. Adjective: Animal(plural): Your band name is (adjective) (animals) Under Glass! Could be better? Let's try again. Adjective: Noun (plural): Your band is (adjective) (nouns) With Puppets 3511. Are you desperate but not serious? >> I have no idea what this means. 3512. Was there a time when you were younger and it took less to get you excited? What did it take then? What does it take now? >> Honestly, I have no recollection of excitement experiences as a child. I do know that excitement is difficult for me nowadays because 1) I’m still pretty emotionally blunted, particularly for positive emotions and 2) I automatically attribute all physical feelings that could suggest excitement to anxiety instead (because I’m still learning the difference). 3513. Remember learning to write in elementary school? We spend 2 years learning to print..then they throw that out the window and teach kids cursive. Why? If cursive is so important and easy to read then why aren't books printed in cursive? Why aren't cursive computer fonts more popular? Why do buisness forms always say 'please print'? Schools are so preoccupied with teaching kids the complicated but traditional skill of cursive writing that more emphasis is put on that than on teaching kids how to clearly express their ideas through writing. I move that cursive writing become a jr. high school elective instead of a grammer school priority. Who's with me? >> This seems like a personal rant based on your own experiences and I have no dog in this fight, dude. I think of penmanship like art -- script writing is an art form and being adept at it can lead to some pretty results. Just don’t use it if you don’t care for it. Also, I’m pretty sure very few (public) schools care about cursive writing in this era, lmao, so this is also an outdated rant. 3514. Can you think of anything else (besides cursive writing) that is unhelpful, or unuseful, yet traditional and unquestioned? What? >> Whatever. 3515. Name one female celebrity who you would guess wears size ___ clothing: 0? 5? 12? 16? 20? 3516. Have you ever been to a place where the restrooms were named in a clever way rather than just saying men's and woman's? I've seen Hens and Roosters, Bart and Lisa, Dudes and Babes...what have you seen? >> Yeah, I saw “Pirates” and “Wenches” once. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen others but I can’t remember what they were now. 3517. What is the 'message' or 'point behind': Fight Club? Donnie Darko? AI? Minority Report? Solaris? A Walk to Remember? You've Got Mail? 3518. have you seen, and what are your thoughts about these movies: Drumline? >> Now this is a question block I can actually answer. I did see Drumline, but I was 13 at the time so I have no real recollection of my feelings about it. The Hot Chick? >> Nope. Maid in Manhattan? >> Nope. Star Trek: Nemesis? >> Nope. About Schmidt? >> Nope. Okay, maybe I can’t answer this question block after all. What are most of these movies...? Evelyn? >> --- The Guys? >> --- Intacto? >> --- The Jimmy Show? >> ---

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers? >> I did see this, but I don’t remember much of it either because it was at least half a decade ago. I do assume I enjoyed it. Gangs of New York? >> --- Two Weeks Notice? >> --- The Wild Thornberrys Movie? >> --- Smokers Only? >> --- Treasure Planet? >> --- The Santa Clause 2? >> --- 3519. START this sentance: ....and I think to myself, what a wonderful world." >> ---

3520. What is: insanity? normal? farenheit? 3521. Tell us about yourself in the third person for a bit: >> I’d really rather not attempt that. 3522. If someone breaks a law, should they be punished if they did not know it was a law? >> Oh, I don’t know. This is a concept that can get real thorny real fast. 3523. If it's so much easier to learn languages when we are very young (and it is, something to do with the developing brain) why do they wait until jr high and high school to teach them? >> I don’t know anything about the justifications behind public-school curricula, dude. 3524. Name a band you sort of like: Dream Theater. You are wearing that band's t-shirt in a store. SUDDENLY some guy you don't know comes up to you and goes, "Hey! You like (insert name of the band here)??!!" This is obviously a really stupid question because if you didn't like them you wouldn't be wearing the t-shirt. Your witty reply is: >> It’s not a really stupid question, first of all, because it’s a conversation starter as opposed to a straightforward inquiry. I’d assume he’s excited that someone else seems to be a fan of a band he likes, and is opening the floor to talking about it. Which is great! Let’s talk about prog metal! Now, on the other hand, if the tone of “hey, you like Dream Theater?” is skeptical, like he’s assuming I’m just blithely wearing the shirt without actually liking the band or whatever, then I’d probably just give him a simple “yep” and see what happened after that. I’m not going to immediately be sarcastic or “witty” until I am positive about what kind of interaction is happening. 3525. If you were organizing cd's in a music store what section would you put each of the following in (don't forget the 'bargain bin' section!): Blink182 Depech Mode Weezer Led Zeppelin The Doors Avril Lavigne Nelly Manfred Mann Iggy Pop Pink Floyd Guns N Roses Shakira Britny Spears Tool Ozzy Osbourne Madonna The Rolling Stones The Beatles Motley Crue Bon Jovi 3526. Does coffee stimulate your mind or body more? >> It stimulates my anxiety drive, is what it does. 3527. Can you do 'six degrees of seperation' to anyone famous? >> I assume not. 3528. What's the oddest thing in your home? >> Me. 3529. Do you find it odd when people who are not handicapped use the handicapped stall: in the bathroom? >> No, I’ve used it because the close quarters of the other stalls wig me out sometimes. Or I’ve used it because the other ones were disaster zones. Or I’ve used it because I was also getting changed in the stall, or something, and needed the room. in the parking lot? >> You need a whole placard (or handicapped license plate) for those, so there are obvious rules. 3530. Do you sometimes find yourself talking to yourself? Do you answer yourself back? >> No, I talk to the Inworlders, not “myself”. 3531. In your head do you call yourself 'I' or 'you' or both? >> Er... “I”? 3532. What is the best excuse for why you haven't done your homework? >> --- 3533. Someone tells you 'well there are black people, and then there are n*ggers'. What do you think? >> I think that person’s an out-and-out bona-fide bigot, obviously? What the fuck else am I going to think (besides “I have to leave immediately”)??? 3534. Does culture shape behavior or does behavior shape culture? >> Yes. 3535. What determines whether a person will be: intelligent? pretty? happy? sucessful? 3536. What is social loafing? What is groupthink? >> ??? 3537. I have an idea. let's change the english language by making the words fewer, shorter and more concise. What do ya think? >> No. 3538. What are the physical symptoms of: joy? fear? shame? 3539. Here's the scenerio...your little eight year old brother is hangin out in the house when you come in..and catch him watching the playboy channel! What do you do/say? He says, "Why can't I watch this?" What is your response? Why do you respond that way? >> I don’t have an eight-year-old brother and I don’t know anything about how I would respond in a sibling-dynamic situation because I’ve never been in one. 3540. Who REALLY has a higher sex drive, girls or guys? How can you tell? >> --- 3541. are you usually carefree? >> No. 3542. Do you generally prefer reading to meeting people? >> This is an odd comparison to make. 3543. Do you often long for excitement? >> No. 3544. Are you mostly quiet when you are with others? >> It depends on what kind of situation I’m in and what kind of day I’m having. And who the others are. And where we are. Context, people. Details. Please. 3545. Do you often do things spur of the moment? >> No. 3546. Are you slow an unhurried in the way you move? >> Sometimes. If I’m doing something I hate or that triggers me, then I tend to be a lot more hurried. 3547. Would you do almost anything for a dare? >> I wouldn’t do anything on a dare. 3548. Do you hate being in a crowd who plays jokes on one another? >> Er... 3549. Do you enjoy wild parties? >> No. 3550. Have you ever paid for something priced more than $5.00 in only change? >> No, but I was with someone that did. We had to scrounge for change in her car so we could buy enough gas to get us the rest of the way home, lol.

#surveys #survey #5000 question survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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minecraftoworymode · 6 years ago

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local admin discovers this CRAZY life hack, other admins HATE him! click to find out more -->

no but seriously what the hell kind of drama is bad enough that you kill one of your best friends and torture the other for an unspecified but presumably quite lengthy amount of time? did fred start kinning one of romeo’s ‘no doubles’ IDs? did they accuse romeo of being a homestuck and, having no way to deny the truth, he killed them in a blind panic? they didn’t play romeo’s nine-hour oblivion mod and he took this as a supreme betrayal? romeo wouldn’t get off the xbox when it was xara’s turn? what led to them fighting “for control of the world”?

i mean, given how much romeo wants friends you’d think that for him to consciously yeet the only ones he had there’d have to be a really good reason for it, right? right??

[well, at least it’s free real estate. everything in this post is headcanon territory, so to save both of us the trouble of having to read “i think” or “probably” or “evidence suggests” every two sentences i’ll be speaking as if this actually happened. but if anyone else has an idea of what the heck happened, i’d love to hear others’ takes!!!]

big Fs in the chat tonight, pals. for all that he wants people to like him, romeo is really, really, REALLY bad at going about it like a normal person. (ESPECIALLY in canon. like. frankly it’s almost to the point of seeming intentional because NO ONE can be that dense about being such an absolute and utter scoundrel. who does things that actively malicious without being aware of how hurtful it is? even capitalists generally know they’re being bastards. canon, man. i dont know.)

but- he wasn’t always quite that bad at it. it’s just that once you’ve tripped and spilled paint all over your canvas, and also you have god powers that give you infinite copies of other peoples’ paintings, it’s a lot easier to plug your ears chuck the canvas in the trash and go LA LA LA, MUST’VE BEEN THE PAINT’S FAULT instead of admitting you made a mistake, cleaning up the mess you made, and trying again.

the admins’ friendship was the canvas. here is the paint.

romeo really wants people to be his friends, and he couldn’t have had better ones than fred and xara. and honestly? he was perfectly fine with leaving behind everything and everyone else he’d ever known- all he needed were the other admins, no one and nothing else. dependency whoms’t? but for fred and xara, whose stances on relationships were , just a bit healthier than that- as much as they loved romeo- they missed the people they’d left behind.

romeo had invited them here- first xara, then fred- and while he’d of course agreed to let them go back whenever they asked they’ve- like, the idea hasn’t really seriously come up in... it’s been a very long while. i’m still working on the exact timeline here but it’s been- he’d almost completely forgotten about it, actually. they, on the other hand... hadn’t.

it’s like a freaking 2x combo double whopper whammy of being abandoned and also not being “enough” that hits romeo right in the heart nuts. but hey! necessity (or what he thought necessity) is the mother of invention, and for all that he thinks himself stupid he figured out a solution- more than a solution, even! he could do them one better than bringing them the people they missed. he would bring them the people they wanted.

the custom npcs mod allows you to create, well, npcs. it allows you to set their schedules, dialogue, stats, appearance, etc. and you do most of it by right-clicking with a hoe which i find hilarious but ANYWAY romeo came up with something similar. at first, his constructs were... not very convincing, but a little help from a bright-eyed friend made them almost indistinguishable from real people. (herobrine is another post, but for the record this isn’t even the biggest crap he’s pulled.)

he was so excited, presenting his gift to fred and xara. look, i was thinking- you said you missed that one roommate, right, even though they always left the door open and didn’t put food away? ta-dah! look at that, closing the door like a gentleman! and you were missing your counsellor, right? well, miss no more! they’re programmed to always be there for you- you never have to worry about scheduling or other patients, here’s someone who will always care! and that’s not all- if you’ve been having trouble with any of your moderators- or even the normal humans, those are fun too sometimes- this lets you change their mind! literally! no more arguing about what colour to make the new concrete blocks, no more fighting over who gets the first seat in the rollercoaster, you’ll never have to deal with any of that ever again-! ... hey, why aren’t you- why do you- why are you looking at me like that? xara? ... fred?

yeah, it... doesnt go over too well. the tool ends up broken, and romeo promises to not use it again- though only because it upset fred and xara, not because he really saw anything wrong with it. and he keeps that promise for a time. of course the paint can is already leaking, but romeo doesn’t see that yet. none of them really see what’s coming, not fully. how could they? no one wants to think the worst of the ones they love.

but they’re all understandably... tense, and romeo always tended to look to people to vent his emotions, and- the person who would come to be the warden has a huge fight with romeo, right in front of fred and xara’s salad. like. it’s really bad. they’re both on the verge of tears and the warden SLAMS the door as he leaves, which does make romeo cry. and the other two are like... hey... do you want anything... some cake...? prog rock...? we can cuddle...? n romeo’s usually already invited himself to one or more of those things by now but instead of throwing himself into their arms and wailing he’s just, standing there silently, tears streaming down his face, looking of all things pensive. and next in the series of many shocking things to come, he does something he’s never done before: he brightens and says, “i’m going to fix this,” before resolutely walking out the door.

fred and xara are like. oh my god. is- is he actually going to talk out his feelings and problems? is this- is healthy open communication here? did we do it? have we reached the mental wellness? is it finally happening? n romeo comes back a few hours later with his arm around the warden’s shoulders and they're both smiling and laughing and it sounds like everything's worked out just fine. in fact, after that, a bunch of people who’d had beef with romeo in the past seem to work things out with him, all parties seeming genuinely happier for it. romeo’s made a real change! fred and xara have never been more proud, more relieved, or more wrong.

he can’t lie to his friends. he can lie to everyone else, up to and including himself, but not to the ones he loves. it’s just... they’d been so happy, and he’d never seen anyone that proud of him, and, and...

that doesn’t go over too well either. and he should really make the tool out of something other than like, wood, so it stops getting broken so easily? he certainly has time to do so- the silence that follows is the longest the admins have ever gone without talking to one another. in retrospect they probably should’ve known that things were only going to get worse from there, but could you blame fred and xara for hoping beyond hope that- since they were always the ones to drag romeo out of his sulking and brooding- him coming to them first was a sign that he’d changed, for real this time? and the way he starts the conversation- by saying how the admins’ absence has impacted the people in their care- it’s certainly promising.

but- ah, what’s that line? something like,

"Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises; and oft it hits Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits."

there are very, very few things that make fred visibly angry. not that things don’t ever make them mad, it’s just that their dedication to living their best life means that they’re generally able to keep a firm grip on how they express their emotions. but for romeo to brainwash- no, worse than brainwash- they don’t even have a word for it- fred’s own people? they’re called their friends for a reason! it doesn’t MATTER that he thought it’d make fred happy- did he think, for even a moment, about listening to what they’d said? does he not realize how absolutely vile it was to do that? the others are real people, too! all of them, not just the ones he considers his friends- do you even understand what that word means, romeo? "friend"?

what really burns is that fred isn’t just angry- they’re disappointed. they’re scared. they’re just as hurt as he is, which is just- how DARE they?! ROMEO’S the one who’s being yelled at! why are THEY crying?! (they’re all in tears now, actually, but romeo doesn’t notice his own.)

a deep breath. fred asks him to undo what he’s done. romeo doesn’t move.

a tense heartbeat. fred asks again, and takes a step forward. this time romeo flinches back.

there’s not a single quark between the three of them right now not on edge. it feels like the air before a lightning strike. something’s going to break. none of them are backing down. maybe none of them can because, if romeo’s not going to do it himself- fred takes a final step forward and asks, remarkably calmly, for romeo to give them the tool.

and then he does! and they apologize to each other for not having been more open about their feelings and defining and maintaining their boundaries and then they make up and have a really good hug and it’s great, everything’s great, and this is probably the mental image romeo tried to fall asleep to before realizing that that wouldn’t stop the nightmares and just giving up on the whole “resting” thing.

if you’re beginning to notice a pattern here with things really not going well, you might just be onto something about romeo’s behaviour. but to be fair none of them had gone into this situation expecting a fight- it was just, fred tried to take the tool and romeo instinctively pulled his weapon and- none of them realized quite how long fred had been losing blood? romeo had been lashing out, fred had been trying to take something he was holding while also trying to defend themself, xara had been trying to protect fred (and was also lashing out too, just a little)- i mean, they realized. eventually. and by that point honestly accidentally stabbing them wasn’t going to do anything the life force loss hadn’t, so like...

okay, brief side note: as operator, romeo’s existence maintains the mcsm universe. he can’t die, even if he wants to. xara and fred had the next best deal (arguably anyway), in that they could only be truly hurt by one thing: the person who’d given them administrative powers in the first place. which happened to be the same person who’d, like, just stabbed his best friend and was now staring in open horror as said friend’s skin flickered back to its original appearance before-

just like that they were gone. just like that. the lack of body and inventory really should’ve tipped them off that something wasn’t right, but for all that they both replay that moment in their minds for years to come they somehow never consider that fred wasn’t quite dead. and romeo had always had such an imagination! but maybe it was for the best that they didn’t consider it, anyway. ... maybe it was for the best.

it doesn’t have to almost kill xara for romeo to take her powers, but it does anyway because if romeo made a lot of stupid decisions before that’s just gotten amped up to eleven now that 90% of his impulse control is gone.

oh.

oh no.!!

romeo watch out almost a millennium of unprocessed trauma and grief is sneaking up on you- romeo- oh my god he can’t hear us he has minecraft airpods in- romeo oh nO

anyway thanks for coming to my tedtalk! tune in next time to hear about the fallout of romeo’s actions across multiple worlds and the group of dissidents whose entire existence is to, well, diss romeo, aka soren’s cult. in conclusion:

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #me a bit over a month ago: huh i wonder what this mcsm business is about #me now:#ng+#msg

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progmetol · 2 months ago

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It’s not often that an album gets me so far into a chokehold that I listen to it almost daily for a few weeks but it’s happened again. If you like traditional sounding progressive metal check this out. It’s pretty great. Too bad it’s a one album wonder, they have no other releases.

#mp talks #miss prog actually talks about prog for once #Spotify

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theonyxpath · 5 years ago

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WOW! What a weekend!

And it started with our Legendlore Kickstarter funding on Friday! Now we’re moving into Stretch Goals – so please, if you haven’t already, check it out! The link is below in the Kickstarter section!

And and, to get you started, here’s a review of the free PDF of the complete text for the book linked on the KS site: https://thetabletopalmanac.wordpress.com/2020/06/15/rpg-reviews-legendlore-manuscript-preview/

Of course, this leaves the rest of the weekend, which just happened to consist of the first-ever Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention!

What a fun time!

We really didn’t know how folks would respond, but now that the three days of panels and gaming are done, I can say that our community was in turns hilarious, supportive, giving, excited, and energized. And that energy really flowed right back into all the events and energized all of us!

I mean, we’re still tired as all get out – who’d have thought that a con I could attend from my own house would do that? – but pretty sure we’re all still feeling the love, too.

Just to pull the giving part out for a second, we are absolutely thrilled that our charity goals were blasted through sometime mid-con, and we’ll be donating over a thousand dollars to each of our excellent causes: The Bodhana Group, and the Thurgood Marshall College Fund!

Now, back to the whooped by the con part, we are and I am, so today I’m just going to pull out some impressions of the events from a bunch of us who normally would have had our Monday Meeting today – we rescheduled it for later this week.

SCENES FROM A VIRTUAL CON:

Matthew: The Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention was the first con I helped organise, and while it had its share of stresses in the setup, it came to excellent fruition due to the fantastic teamwork of everyone working hard behind the scenes and amazing engagement from viewers, panelists, players, and those who donated to our charities and took advantage of our sales on onyxpathcon.com

RichT: I started us off on Friday night with the Opening Keynote speech, and then just sort of chatted with Matt McElroy, Dixie Cochran, Eddy Webb, and Matthew Dawkins about what was coming with the con.

For me, I then rolled into my first game, I played one per day, which was the first Actual Play of Exalted Essence. It really did run both fast and smoothly, and all of the various Exalted types we were playing had their times to shine. I was able to put a different, more easy-going, pie-eating, spin on my bear-totemed Lunar who still wound up grappling with the big bad and bear-hugging them in place for Danielle’s Solar to practically one-shot the sucker!

Ian: Convention was great, despite a few hiccups. I was on two streams early on: one Friday evening and one Saturday morning, and then the rest of the con was “free.” Travis and the GG crew were all-stars. Travis couldn’t get Nightbot working for a bit so I took over the random prize drawing for a few streams. I was often juggling two different streams in different monitors to help keep dialogue going in chat. Kudos to everyone, especially those of you who worked multiple panels and games in a single day.

RichT: In fact, the panel Ian refers to on Saturday morning was the “What’s Up With Onyx Path?” panel that started off the day at 9am. This is a panel where a bunch of developers and I talk about upcoming projects for their lines, and answer questions. Eddy and I started doing them about a decade ago when it was “What’s Up With White Wolf?”, but changed the name for obvious reasons after Onyx Path appeared.

During that panel, a couple of things came up: Matthew teased that we might very well do They Came From (the Old West!, or something more flavorful that fits the genre) as the third They Came From game, and Ian talked about Trinity Continuum: Aeon Mission Statements, a book all about the organizations in the setting that aren’t the Psi-Orders. We also noticed that some folks in the chat were new to Onyx Path and what we create, so that was unexpected but welcome news!

Then, I played my second game of the con, which was a sneak preview of Scion: Demigod! Neall took us through a voyage to the Grecian Afterlife, using the Ready Made Characters from Heroes of the World and I got to play a stern Horace Farrow ala Sam Elliott, while Steffie cut up many, many things with Yukiko’s Grass-Cutter Sword. Then, another panel on Community Content and why it rocks wrapped up my Saturday.

Matthew: I didn’t encounter one instance of bad behaviour in chat or anything dubious discussed on screen in games or on panels, and I attended most that I could as a viewer, if I wasn’t an active participant.

Viewership of panels and games peaked at around 250 to 300 people at one time for a couple of the shows, and bottomed out at around 50 people. Those are good figures. Our subscriptions and follows on Twitch rocketed, with many subscriptions being gifted by viewers and even more just being purchased or acquired via Amazon Prime.

My own highlight is impossible to choose between the games and panels I ran or appeared on, though the “Create Your Best Character” panel, which I suspected would be a sleeper, turned into an excellent talk on not playing harmful stereotypes and break out of dangerous tropes.

Eddy: The convention was great for me. My scheduling was a little odd, and I ran into one minor technical issue, but otherwise it went smoothly and it seemed like people in the chat were excited and appreciative. I felt like we got to dig into topics we aren’t able to do in normal convention settings, and attendance was definitely higher than usual for panels at other shows. I also heard that people had a good time watching the games or playing in ad-hoc games all weekend. I know there were some problems on the back-end of getting this all together, but I don’t think any of our attendees noticed anything but a nice, polished experience.

RichT: Sunday started out just like Saturday, with the second “What’s Up With Onyx Path?” panel, although with a different set of developers. The big news was when Eddy ratted out that he was working on Squeaks in the Dark, the mice/rats supplement for Realms of Pugmire!

I then had my second panel on Sunday, the “Art of Onyx Path” one, where Mirthful Mike Chaney joined three of our freelance artists and I in discussing just how illustrators work for us: how they submit their work, how they are contacted, how art notes work, how artists work, and what sort of music do we listen to while doing illustrations. Lots of great questions from the audience, and a wide range of experience within the panel, made it really interesting.

RichT: Then my Sunday game was the first public playtest of They Came From Beyond the Grave! run by Matthew, and featuring Dixie’s Rose Thorne, a driven vampire hunter with attitude, and 70s hair. She teamed up with B. Dave Walters’ smoooth street investigator to blast the ever-lovin’ hell out of evil cultists, while Ian Mueller’s exorcist (sorta) shot the big bad between the eyes with Rose’s derringer, and my slightly odd professor tried to save as much weird-science lab equipment as he could. Science! We left the haunted house as the superimposed fire effect began to devour it, fortunately for all involved (except the dead 70s prog-rock star sacrificed by the cultists).

I immediately had to log into my last event, but what a special event it was! Added late in the proceedings as we had to work within a lot of people’s schedules, I was thrilled to sit down with a bunch of my old co-workers at the original White Wolf in a “Memories of WW” panel with Bill Bridges, Rich Dansky, Ethan Skemp, Mike Tinney, and my old go-to designer for graphics, Matt Milberger.

Much reminiscing occurred, interposed with questions from the chat, that pretty much focused on our time from the early 90s to the early 2000s, although we did chat a bit about the late, lamented WoD MMO, as most of us worked on that in one capacity or another. Mike talked about how he cozened us an arcade version of Dark Stalkers for our little lunchroom, and we had fond memories of the WW Blood Bowl League.

(My Children of the Khorne chaos team won the cup two seasons in a row, just sayin’).

And although I didn’t want it to end, it did, and my time at the first-ever Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention was over. Which was actually pretty good because my brain was on autopilot at that point.

Ian: Everyone on both sides of the screen seemed to have a great time, and the only real complaints I heard were that there were too many good things happening at once and people had to make a choice on which stream to watch.

Matthew: While many games had a tendency to overrun, I’d say they each ran to optimal length and didn’t cause too much disruption farther up the schedule.

RichT: Which are all good things to happen, actually, with your first online convention, so we’re going to review all the metrics we can gather ourselves and from the super folks at Gehenna Gaming, and see what we can learn from all that.

Will we do another one? We just don’t know yet, but whether we do or not, this one sure did what we wanted to do – folks who attended had a whole lot of fun! If you missed out and want to watch the games and panels, they are currently on the Onyx Path and Gehenna Gaming Twitch channels for subscribers, but will soon migrate over to the Onyx Path YouTube page for all to watch!

So, from all of us to all of you, whether you attended or didn’t, thanks for making it a real joy to walk with you exploring:

Many Worlds, One Path!

Blurbs!

Kickstarter!

The Legendlore Kickstarter funded right before we started the Virtual Con last week! A really great way to start things off! Now we’re building towards Stretch Goals: the GM’s Screen, and starting the Legendlore Companion book PDF!

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/339646881/legendlore-rpg-setting-for-5th-edition-fantasy-roleplaying-0

Grab your friends and escape to another world!

You’ve found an enchanted portal — a transition point — between worlds. The portal, called a Crossing, takes you to a world you thought only existed in novels and films: a magical land where dragons roam the skies, orcs and hobgoblins terrorize weary travelers, and unicorns prance through the forest. It is a world where humans join other peoples such as elves, trolls, dwarves, changelings, and the dreaded creatures who steal the night. It is a world of fantasy — of imagination.

It is the Realm.

It is Legendlore.

Onyx Path Media!

This week: the most exciting episode of the Onyx Pathcast ever, recorded live at the Onyx Path Virtual Gaming Convention!

As always, this Friday’s Onyx Pathcast will be on Podbean or your favorite podcast venue! https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

Hi all!

We’ll be back next week with our usual promotion of all the excellent games on our Twitch and YouTube channels, but for now, we encourage you to do what it seems a lot of people are doing right now, and hop over to our Twitch: twitch.tv/theonyxpath

While the convention has ended, but subscribing to our Twitch channel (which you can do for free if you have Amazon Prime), you get access to all the panels and games that ran on it over the convention weekend. So, if you missed a panel or game you really wanted to watch, head on to our Twitch, subscribe, and browse our back catalogue!

Other than our content, we would like to promote a couple more games for those without Twitch:

Occultists Anonymous continue their excellent Mage: The Awakening game here:

Episode 106: Friends & Minions The cabal combats the uninvited guest summoned by an Exarchal Supernal Being. The danger of the Exarchal attention prompts further investigations away from the Supernal. https://youtu.be/YSErlwnC7Nc

Episode 107: Making Promises Songbird reaches out to the Queen of the Vampires of New York about a divine blessing. Wyrd and Atratus hatch a plan to make a car… https://youtu.be/dueYYUl0FrY

And A Bunch of Gamers have just started up a two-part extravaganza of They Came from Beneath the Sea! right here:

The Crabby Lizard from the Murkey Depths

Episode 1: In the small east coast town of Chatham Massachusetts things are easy. The soda pop shop is ready for any of the locals. The city comes together for a bake sale to help their neighbors, and everyone knows each other. All that changes when a strange electrical storm and a booming voice can be heard over the jukebox. Tonight, the strange, the horrid, the damp creatures from beyond the stars and the depths of the sea rise up to meet the people of Chatham.https://youtu.be/UwxzdwVoYQE

The Tabletop Almanac has released a lovely review of Legendlore that you’ll want to see! https://thetabletopalmanac.wordpress.com/2020/06/15/rpg-reviews-legendlore-manuscript-preview/

Please check these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games! We’d love to feature you!

Electronic Gaming!

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is awesome! (Seriously, you need to roll 100 dice for Exalted? This app has you covered.)

On Amazon and Barnes & Noble!

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue from which you bought it. Reviews really, really help us get folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these latest fiction books:

Our Sales Partners!

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire and Monarchies of Mau out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there! https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

We’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Now, we’ve added Changeling: The Lost Second Edition products to Studio2‘s store! See them here: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/all-products/changeling-the-lost

Scion 2e books and other products are available now at Studio2: https://studio2publishing.com/blogs/new-releases/scion-second-edition-book-one-origin-now-available-at-your-local-retailer-or-online

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

And you can order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e at the same link! And now Scion Origin and Scion Hero and Trinity Continuum Core and Trinity Continuum: Aeon are available to order!

As always, you can find Onyx Path’s titles at DriveThruRPG.com!

On Sale This Week!

Available this Wednesday, we are just a bit embarrassed to say that we’ll be releasing on DTRPG the PDF and PoD versions of Swine and Cheese Party, Et Al., excerpts from The Complete Duke Rollo, for Trinity Continuum: Aberrant!

Also available this Wednesday on DTRPG: the Advance PDF for Quantum Entanglement the Trinity Continuum: Aeon Jumpstart!

Conventions!

Though dates for physical conventions are subject to change due to the current COVID-19 outbreak, here’s what’s left of our current list of upcoming conventions (and really, we’re just waiting for this last one to be cancelled even though it’s Nov/Dec). Instead, keep an eye out here for more virtual conventions we’re going to be involved with:

PAX Unplugged: https://unplugged.paxsite.com/

And now, the new project status updates!

Development Status from Eddy Webb! (Projects in bold have changed status since last week.):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep.)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

Adversaries of the Righteous (Exalted 3rd Edition)

The Clades Companion (Deviant: The Renegades)

The Devoted Companion (Deviant: The Renegades)

Saints and Monsters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Anima

CtL 2e Novella Collection: Hollow Courts (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

M20 Technocracy Operative’s Dossier (Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary)

Redlines

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Hundred Devil’s Night Parade (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Novas Worldwide (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Exalted Essence Edition (Exalted 3rd Edition)

M20 Rich Bastard’s Guide To Magick (Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary)

V5 Children of the Blood (was The Faithful Undead) (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

V5 Forbidden Religions (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Wild Hunt (Scion 2nd Edition)

Second Draft

Many-Faced Strangers – Lunars Companion (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Dearly Bleak – Novella (Deviant: The Renegades)

Mission Statements (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Contagion Chronicle Ready-Made Characters (Chronicles of Darkness)

Under Alien Suns (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

V5 Trails of Ash and Bone (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Adventure! core (Trinity Continuum: Adventure!)

Dead Man’s Rust (Scarred Lands)

Development

TC: Aberrant Reference Screen (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Contagion Chronicle: Global Outbreaks (Chronicles of Darkness)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Exigents (Exalted 3rd Edition)

N!ternational Wrestling Entertainment (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Assassins (Trinity Continuum Core)

Manuscript Approval

Crucible of Legends (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Post-Approval Development

Editing

Lunars Novella (Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Player’s Guide to the Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Contagion Chronicle Jumpstart (Chronicles of Darkness)

TC: Aberrant Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Trinity Continuum Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

LARP Rules (Scion 2nd Edition)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

The Book of Lasting Death (Mummy: The Curse 2e)

They Came From Beyond the Grave! (They Came From!)

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Post-Editing Development

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

W20 Shattered Dreams Gift Cards (Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Hunter: The Vigil 2e core (Hunter: The Vigil 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Monsters of the Deep (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

Pirates of Pugmire KS-Added Adventure (Realms of Pugmire)

Tales of Aquatic Terror (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Terra Firma (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Indexing

Art Direction from Mike Chaney!

In Art Direction

Scion Titanomachy – Art coming in.

Tales of Aquatic Terror

WoD Ghost Hunters (KS) – Prepping KS assets.

Aberrant – AD’d. First new comic in.

Hunter: The Vigil 2e

Mummy 2

Deviant – Dividing up among current artists.

Legendlore – KS running.

Technocracy Reloaded (KS)

Cults of the Blood God – Rolling along.

Scion: Dragon (KS) – Waiting on art notes.

Masks of the Mythos (KS) – Some tweaking to art notes and hiring artists.

Scion: Demigod (KS) – Tweaking art notes, hiring artists. Splats in progress.

They Came From Beyond the Grave! (KS) – Finals coming in.

TC: Adventure! (KS) – Cover art finishing.

In Layout

Yugman’s Guide to Ghelspad

Vigil Watch

TC Aeon Terra Firma

V5 Let the Streets Run Red

Pugmire Adventure

Proofing

Trinity Aeon Jumpstart – New artist taking care of finishing missing art.

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate – Finishing Backer PDF errata.

Contagion Chronicle – Going to WW for approval this week.

Cavaliers of Mars: City of the Towered Tombs

Magic Item Decks (Scarred Lands)

Yugman’s Guide Support Decks (Scarred Lands)

Dark Eras 2 Screen and booklet

At Press

Scion Companion – Shutting down errata.

TCFBTS Heroic Land Dwellers – Prepping PoD files.

TCFBTS Screen and Booklet – Files at press.

They Came from Beneath the Sea! – Files at press.

Creature Collection 5e – PoD files uploaded. Traditional files sent to printer.

Pirates of Pugmire – Files at press. Prepping files for PoD.

Pirates of Pugmire Screen – Files at press.

Duke Rollo Aberrant Book: Swine & Cheese Party – PDf and PoD versions on sale Wednesday on DTRPG.

Pugmire Buried Bones – Gathering errata.

Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition Dark Eras Compilation – Gathering errata.

Today’s Reason to Celebrate!

Today is feet up and dozing after the busy, busy, Virtual Con and celebrating its success!

#Onyx Path Publishing

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grimelords · 6 years ago

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My March playlist is finished! This one is slightly more diverse than usual, swinging all the way from vibraphone jazz to Bhad Bhabie to black metal so I’ve taken the liberty of actually sequencing it properly for you. So if you’ve got 3 hours you can listen to this straight through and be taken for a hell of a ride. No matter what you like I’m sure you’ll find something in here that you love.

Tahiti - Milt Jackson: For an unknown reason I had a big jazz vibraphone phase this month and when you're talking jazz vibraphone you're talking the Wizard Of The Vibes himself, Milt Jackson. I feel insane even having an opinion on this but it's a shame that some of the best vibraphone performances were made at a time when the actual recording technology wasn't really there, they all have this very thin quality that I think misses a lot of the great character of the instrument.

Detour - Bill Le Sage: Like compare this from 1971 to Wizard Of The Vibes from 1952, the sounds is miles warmer and gives so much more of the full range and detail of the instrument. I also listened to this song five times in a row when I first heard it, the central refrain is just so fuckin good. Like I said, big vibes vibe and who knows why.

Blowin' The Blues Away - Buddy Rich And His Sextet: Superhuman playing aside, it's unbelievable how good these drums sound. The whole first minute just feels like a tour of each specific drum and I absolutely revel in it. I feel like flute and vibes is a relatively rare combo so it's extremely nice to hear Sam Most and Mike Manieri go ham in tandem.

Yama Yama - Yamasuki Singers: A friend sent me this song that he's had stuck in his head for ten years ever since it was in a beer ad from the days when beer ads were incredible strange for complicated legal reasons about not showing people enjoying the product or something https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORfkh0OojxY and this incredible song is apparently from a 1971 French concept album where a couple of guys wrote a bunch of psychedelic songs in Japanese for an unknown reason that later became a massive drum and bass breaks album, and one of the guys was Thomas Bangalter from Daft Punk's dad! Music is crazy.

Alfonso Muskedunder - Todd Terje: I'm starting a petition to get Todd Terje to write the soundtrack for the next Mario Kart. I absolutely love this song and this whole album because it's so joyful and strange and it just sounds like nothing else I've ever heard. He seem to truly operate in a world entirely of his own.

Pala - Roland Tings: I love this song. It's like he wrote it with normal sounds and then went back and replaced every instrument with the party version. This song hands you a coconut and says welcome to the island where bad vibes are punishable by firing squad.

Keygen 13 - Haze Edit - Dubmood: There's a fucking album of keygen music on spotify and it's absolutely great and so good that someone's doing the work to recognize the value of the music this extremely weird scene produced and preserve it. If you don't know, back in the day when you pirated photoshop or whatever, you would download a license key generator which was a program made by extreme nerds who had cracked the license key algorithm to give you a fake one, and for unknown reasons they would make the keygen program play original chiptune music that someone in their nerd crew would compose. Who knows why but god bless them.

My Moon My Man (Boys Noize Remix) - Feist: The very concept of a Boys Noize remix of My Moon My Man is hilarious and it turns out it sounds absolutely amazing as well. Two great tastes that taste great together.

Low Blows - Meg Mac: I had a big Meg Mac phase this month too, listened to her album a lot and it's extremely solid. Great timing too cause her new one comes out in a month or so too. I really am excited to hear her next album because she's so good but I've always got this feeling that she hasn't reached her full potential yet, she's only going to get a million times better in an album or two.

Patience - Tame Impala: I love that the cover of this single is a pic of congas because it feels like that's the central thesis here. Kevin Parker bought some congas and is making disco Tame Impala now and I really couldn't be happier about it.

Unconditional (feat. Kitten) - Touch Sensitive: I love a 90s throwback done with love. There's nothing cynical or ironic about this it's just fun as hell!

Last Hurrah - Bebe Rexha: Get a fucking load of this Bebe Rexha song that interpolates Buy U A Drank by T-Pain for the chorus! It's a testament to how good that song is that she's using the verse melody as the chorus. T-Pain will quite literally never get the respect he deserves. Also this song goes for 2.5 minutes. There's something happening where pop songwriting is getting more and more compact, completely trimming the fat and ornamentation and it's very interesting.

Hi Bich - Bad Bhabie: Also I'm fully six months late on Hi Bich but I'm of the opinion that it's extremely fucking good. A perfect little reaction gif of a song and it only goes for 1m45!

Friends - Flume: I'm doubling down on my thesis about emo rap from last month but this song literally sounds like a Flume remix of a Hawthorne Heights song. The whole melody of it, the overlapping yelled/clean vocals. The lyrics obviously. I don't know it's just very odd how close it is. A sort of emo trojan horse to trick people into thinking The Used are cool again.

How To Build A Relationship (feat. JPEGMAFIA) - Flume: I've been meaning to check out JPEGMAFIA (AKA Buttermilk Jesus AKA DJ Half-Court Violation AKA Lil' World Cup) for a while but this is the song that convinced me. There's just so much to digest in this. Every line is gold and delivered with massive conviction even when he realises it's total nonsense like 'dont call me unless I gave you my number'.

Bells & Circles (feat. Iggy Pop) - Underworld: Underworld alive 2019?? I love this song becuase Iggy Pop has been riding a fine line between punk provocateur and old man yells at cloud for a while now and this song is the perfect mix of both. You can't hijack airplanes and redirect them to cuba anymore and as a result it's over for liberal democracies. Just yelling about air travel for six minutes and it's good.

Guns Blazing (Drums Of Death Pt. 1) - UNKLE: This beat is some of my favourite DJ Shadow work I think. The menacing organ bass throughout, and especially the distorted drum freakout near the end. It's just great all the way through.

Homo Deus IV - Deantoni Parks: Another Deantoni Parks track like I was raving about last month. This whole album is great and flows together as a single piece of work amazingly. I love the purposefully limited sample palette of each track forcing an evolving groove throughout. He absolutely wrings every bit of variation he can get out of every single sound he uses and once you get into the groove of it it's absolutely mind blowing.

Boredom - The Drones: I love that The Drones can write a song about joining ISIS that's also a lot of fun. Spelling out radicalization in a way anyone can understand and sympathise with and then switching it in the second verse to spell out how we got into this situation anyway.

Loinclothing - Hunters And Collectors: I love how much this song sounds like a voodoo celebration in christian hell.

The Fun Machine Took A Shit And Died - Queens Of The Stone Age: There's a good bit on the live dvd they put out after Lullabies To Paralyze where they play this song and they say it was supposed to be on the album but somebody stole the master recordings from the studio, which is an incredible and brazen crime. Then when they put it out on Era Vulgaris as a bonus track Josh Homme said in an interview "The tapes got lost. Actually, they were just at another studio, but we falsely accused everyone in the world of theft" which is extremely funny. This is really one of their best songs and I sort of really with it had been on Lullabies because it fits perfectly between The Blood Is Love and Someone's In The Wolf type of vibes, I love how it just kind of keeps shifting ideas and riffs throughout. An absolute jam overflowing with ideas.

10AM Automatic - The Black Keys: This song is an all time great in my opinion. It's so straightforward and so effective. I wonder if we'll get a blues rock revival ever or if Jack White still being alive and bad is souring everyone on that idea. This song also has one of my favourite guitar sounds in history I think - the outrageously huge sounding solo that comes out of nowhere and swallows up the rest of the mix like a swirling black hole near the end.

Gamma Knife - King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard: I've never gotten much into King Gizzard and because of their one million albums already it's hard to know where to start but I've been listening to Nonagon Infinity a bit and it's great, it's just good old fashioned 70s prog jams front to back.

Gina Works At Hearts - DZ Deathrays: I absolutely love this song and I absolutely love the second guitar sound in the chorus of this song that sounds like it's made out of thin steel.

Black Brick - Deafheaven: When I saw Deafheaven the other month I was right up the front and it was a life changingly great experience AND they played this new song live for the first time before it went up everywhere like three hours later which was very exciting to be given a sclusie like that. After they finished a guy behind me whispered to his friend "Slayer..." which was very funny to me.

Gemini - Elder: I found this band because one of my Spotify Daily Mixes was all stoner metal for a while, which is a good genre to see all lined up because it'll have Weedeater, Bongripper AND Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats right there in a row for you. Anyway this album is extremely good, the very best kind of stoner metal where it's groovy and fun and has big meaty riffs and ripping big solos and it's extremely easy to listen to three times in a row.

The Paradise Gallows - Inter Arma: My big obsession the past little while has been Inter Arma ever since Stereogum posted The Atavist's Meridian from their new album. It is just so fucking good and I can't believe I've never heard of them before. You know when you find out about an amazing band and then you find out they've been around for nearly ten years and you can't believe everyone in your life has been selfishly hiding them from you?

The Atavist's Meridian - Inter Arma: I think a big part of my enjoyment of this band has also been that I discovered them at the same time as I'm listening to an audiobook of the complete Conan The Barbarian omnibus so I'm very much in the brain space for music that sounds like it would be nice to swing an axe to.

Untoward Evocation - Impetuous Ritual: I love how halfway through this kind of just turns into a big swirling mist of dark sounds. It feels so formless and dark that it could just shake apart and dissipate at any moment and you'd look down to realise your skin is gone.

Eagle On A Pole - Conor Oberst: from Genius: 'In an interview with MTV news, Oberst stated “We were on the bus one day and a friend of ours that travels with us and works for the band kind of came out from the back of the bus and said that first line: ‘Saw an eagle on a pole… I think it was an eagle.’ And then this guy Simon Joyner, who is a great songwriter from Omaha and one of my great friends, he was on tour with us and sitting there and he was like, ‘You know, that’s a great name for a song.’ We kind of had a contest where he wrote a song with that first line, and [then] I did, and a couple of our other friends. We kind of all played them for each other. Simon’s is better than mine, but it is a good line to start a song.” Another version–Mystic Valley Band drummer Jason Boesel’s interpretation–is on the next album, Outer South.' The idea that such a good song has such a braindead origin only makes me love it more.

Lake Marie - John Prine: When I saw John Prine the other month he played this song that I had never heard before and I had to look it up after and now I'm completely obsessed with it. It feels like falling asleep during a movie and missing a critical plot point so the rest doesn't make sense when you wake up but is thrilling nonetheless. Also he absolutely screamed "SHADOWS!!!" when he played it which was a fucking cool thing to see a 72 year old man do.

Little White Dove - Jenny Lewis: The drums on this whole album are absolutely huge for some reason and I love it. My favourite recent sound is in the first chorus where there's a funny little pitch correction noise as she sings 'dove'. It's very strange and very very good.

Locked Up - The Ocean Party: I only found out The Ocean Party existed as they announced their farewell show this month which is a real shame but I'm glad I got to hear of them at all because they're very good. A very good song about that feeling we all know and love: driving for a long long time.

Plain & Sane & Simple Melody - Ted Lucas: I found out about this song from Emma Ruth Rundle's Amoeba Records video and she makes a good point about this whole album sounding like something's gone wrong and it got accidentally pitched down slightly in the recording process. It's unclear if that's what happened or that's just how he sounds but it adds a very softly spooky undercurrent to a very nice song.

listen here

#playlists

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monaedroid · 7 years ago

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She rose to fame as an endlessly inventive pop android. Now, she's finally revealing the real person waiting inside

Janelle Monáe is crying in her spacesuit. It's early April in Atlanta, and she's in one of the basement studios of her Wondaland Records headquarters, surrounded by computer monitors and TV screens, one of them running a screensaver that displays images of her heroes: Prince, Martin Luther King Jr., Pam Grier, Tina Turner, Lupita Nyong'o, David Bowie. She's about to reveal, for the first time, something the world has long guessed, something her closest friends and family already know, something she's long been loath to say in public. As she sings on a song from her new album, Dirty Computer,"Let the rumors be true." Janelle Monáe is not, she finally admits, the immaculate android, the "alien from outer space/The cybergirl without a face" she's claimed to be over a decade's worth of albums, videos, concerts and even interviews – she is, instead, a flawed, messy, flesh-and-blood 32-year-old human being.

And she has another rumor to confirm. "Being a queer black woman in America," she says, taking a breath as she comes out, "someone who has been in relationships with both men and women – I consider myself to be a free-ass motherfucker." She initially identified as bisexual, she clarifies, "but then later I read about pansexuality and was like, ‘Oh, these are things that I identify with too.' I'm open to learning more about who I am."

It's a lovely spacesuit she's wearing, a form-fitting white NASA artifact complete with a commander patch on one arm and an American flag on the other. She's put it on for no reason at all – there are no cameras in sight – as she lounges around Wondaland. The outfit is a remnant, perhaps, of the android persona, known as Cindi Mayweather, that she fed us all these years: a messianic, revolutionary robot who fell in love with a human and vowed to free the rest of the androids.

Early in her career, Monáe was insecure about living up to impossible showbiz ideals; the persona, the androgynous outfits, the inflexible commitment to the storyline both on- and offstage, served in part as protective armor. "It had to do with the fear of being judged," she says. "All I saw was that I was supposed to look a certain way coming into this industry, and I felt like I [didn't] look like a stereotypical black female artist."

She is also a perfectionist, a tendency that's helped her career and hindered her emotional life; portraying a flawless automaton was also a bit of wish fulfillment. It's one of the many reasons she thought she had a "computer virus" that needed cleaning, which led her to years of therapy, starting before the 2010 release of her debut, The ArchAndroid. "I felt misunderstood," she says. "I was like, ‘Before I self-destruct, before I become a confused person in front of the world, let me seek some help.' I was afraid for anybody to see me not at the top of my game. That obsession was too much for me."

So she overcompensated, as she puts it, leaving fans to puzzle over the sight and sound of a dark-skinned, androgynously dressed black woman creating Afro-futuristic fantasias as trippy as the Parliament-Funkadelic soundscapes she grew up hearing. She became a pop anomaly, a sometimes incongruous interloper in the universes of her earliest supporters, Big Boi and Puff Daddy, the latter having signed her to a partnership with Bad Boy Records in 2008. The ArchAndroidwas a buzzy introduction, and 2013's Electric Lady – certainly the first progged-out concept album in the history of Bad Boy – established her as one of the 21st century's most inventive voices. Years before Frank Ocean, Solange, Beyoncé and SZA pushed arty, alternative R&B to the mainstream, Monáe was already there, bridging the gap between neo-soul and all that was to come, unafraid to fuse rock, funk, hip-hop (when she feels like it, as on her recent single "Django Jane," she's a top-flight rapper), R&B, electronica and campy, drama-kid theatricality.

She always ducked questions about her sexuality ("I only date androids" was a stock response) but embedded the real answers in her music. "If you listen to my albums, it's there," she says. She cites "Mushrooms & Roses" and "Q.U.E.E.N.," two songs that reference a character named Mary as an object of affection. In the 45-minute film accompanying Dirty Computer, "Mary Apple" is the name given to female "dirty computers" taken captive and stripped of their real names, one of whom is played by Tessa Thompson. (The actress has been rumored to be Monáe's girlfriend, though Monáe won't discuss her dating life.) The original title of "Q.U.E.E.N.," she notes, was "Q.U.E.E.R.," and you can still hear the word on the track's background harmonies.

Monáe is the CEO of her own label, a CoverGirl model and a movie star, appearing in the Oscar-winning Moonlight and the Oscar-nominated Hidden Figures, two hits led by black casts. In both films, she tackles black American stories that don't typically get the big-screen treatment. "Our stories are being erased, basically," she says of her attachment to those scripts, which made her "want to tell my story." Monáe does worry that the human behind her masks may not be enough. She has asked aloud, including in therapy, "What if people don't think I'm as interesting as Cindi Mayweather?" She'll miss the freedom of being the android. "I created her, so I got to make her be whatever I wanted her to be. I didn't have to talk about the Janelle Monáe who was in therapy. It's Cindi Mayweather. She is who I aspire to be." On Dirty Computer, the only hints of sci-fi are in the title and the storyline of the accompanying film. The lyrics are flesh-and-blood confessions of both physical and emotional insecurity, punctuated with sexual liberation. They're the unfiltered desires of an overthinker letting herself speak without pause, for once. And she wants to help listeners gain the courage to be dirty computers too. "I want young girls, young boys, nonbinary, gay, straight, queer people who are having a hard time dealing with their sexuality, dealing with feeling ostracized or bullied for just being their unique selves, to know that I see you," she says in a tone befitting the commander patch on her arm. "This album is for you. Be proud."

Monáe grew up in a massive, devoutly Baptist family in Kansas City, Kansas, or as she likes to put it, "I got 50 first cousins!" Not all of them know details of her romantic life, but they have almost certainly seen her wear sheer pants and share a lollipop with Thompson in the "Make Me Feel" video. "I literally do not have time," she says, laughing, "to hold a town-hall meeting with my big-ass family and be like, ‘Hey, news flash!' " She worries that when we visit Kansas City tomorrow, they'll bring it up: "There are people in my life that love me and they have questions, and I guess when I get there, I'll have to answer those questions."

Over the years, she's heard some members of her family, mostly distant ones, say certain upsetting things. "A lot of this album," she says, "is a reaction to the sting of what it means to hear people in my family say, ‘All gay people are going to hell.' "

She began questioning the Bible and her family's Baptist faith early on. Now, she says, "I serve the God of love" – love, she's determined, is the common factor among all religions, an idea Stevie Wonder expanded on in a Dirty Computer interlude.

When we arrive in the flat, industrial Kansas side of Kansas City, her family doesn't actually have any questions – or anything unkind to say, for that matter. There's just a whole lot of love for their homegrown superstar.

Janelle Monáe Robinson was born here on December 1st, 1985, to a mom who worked as a janitor and a dad who was in the middle of a 21-year battle with crack addiction. Her parents separated when Monáe was less than a year old, and her mother later married the father of Janelle's younger sister, Kimmy.

Monáe's loving warnings about the sheer size of her family ring true as soon as we step into her old neighborhood. On one street, her maternal grandmother owned several homes in a row that housed cousins, aunts, uncles and Monáe herself. A few minutes away is her paternal great-grandmother's pastel-coated house. Monáe spent a significant portion of her time there – it was her main connection to her dad and his family as he went in and out of prison; their relationship was rocky until he got sober 13 years ago. Another short car ride away is her maternal Aunt Glo's home, where we meet her mom. "She's my favorite slice of pie," her Auntie Fats says, referring to Monáe's familial nickname of "pun'kin."

Monáe was raised in a working-class community called Quindaro. It started as a settlement established by Native Americans and abolitionists just prior to the Civil War, and became a refuge for black Americans escaping slavery via the Underground Railroad. A few weeks before our visit, vandals painted swastikas and "Hail Satan" on a statue of abolitionist John Brown in the neighborhood. It's since been repainted. "I know nobody in this neighborhood did that," her great-grandmother says, shaking her head. "Outsiders."

On the Missouri side of the bridge, Kansas City is predominately white, but Monáe's community is overwhelmingly black. "I would read about where I was from," she says, "and understand who's really disadvantaged coming from these environments. It sucks. It's like that for brown folks." It's hard to miss her family's religiosity – they hardly get a sentence out without a mention of God's blessings. At 91, Monáe's great-grandma still monitors the halls at the local vacation Bible school with a switch in hand. During our visit, she sits behind a piano to lead a gospel singalong. Monáe, beside an aunt and a cousin, joins in, belting "Call Him Up and Tell Him What You Want" and "Savior, Do Not Pass Me By."

Monáe is never more relaxed during our time together than when she's in Kansas City. Her Midwestern drawl comes back as she screams and sings while running into the arms of her cousins, aunts and uncles, many of whom she gets to see only during the holidays or tour stops nearby. At one point, she curls up into her mom's lap while they look at a homemade poster full of sepia-toned childhood pics. "She was a delightful baby," Auntie Fats recalls.

Monáe's family members all share different versions of the same story: She was born to be a star, and she made that clear as soon as she gained motor skills. There was that time she got escorted out of church for insisting on singing Michael Jackson's "Beat It" in the middle of the service. There were the talent shows for Juneteenth where she covered "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" three years in a row and won each time. She was the star of the school musicals, except for The Wiz her senior year, when she lost the role of Dorothy because she had to leave the audition early to pick up her mom at work. She's still a bit miffed about not getting that part.

Monáe soon passed a bigger audition, for the American Musical and Dramatic Academy, and headed to New York. She studied musical theater and shared a small apartment with a cousin where she didn't even have a bed to herself. When she wasn't in class, she was working.

Meanwhile, an old friend was having the college experience Monáe desired, in Atlanta, so she relocated. The rest is well-trod history in the myth-building of Monáe: She was an Afro'd neo-soul singer strumming her guitar on college quads and working at Office Depot. She was fired from that job for using one of the company's computers to respond to a fan's e-mail, an incident that inspired the song "Lettin' Go."

That song caught the attention of Big Boi, who put her on Outkast's Idlewild and helped connect her with Sean Combs. "I'm-a be honest with you," her dad says, recalling an invite to one of Monáe's shows in Atlanta, where Combs was supposed to be in the house. "I was like, ‘Yeah, right.' I didn't think Puff Daddy was coming."

Skepticism aside, Michael Robinson was proud of the invite. He'd recently gotten sober, and the two were repairing their relationship. He spent much of Janelle's childhood hearing about her immense talents from the more-present members of their family. He was honored that they had come far enough for Monáe to want him to be there for such an important concert. But he still didn't believe Puffy would be there.

"I go down there with my two cousins, and she says, ‘Dad, everyone's gonna know you're not from here. Your jeans are creased.' " Fashion faux pas aside – he insists he hasn't creased his jeans since – Robinson was in for a pleasant surprise when one of his cousins spotted Combs and Big Boi in the back. It was the beginning of his daughter's new life, and he was just in time to be along for the journey. "I remember thinking, ‘This is what the big time is like,' " he muses. "They had all the cameras, all the lights. It was all about Janelle."

Wondaland Arts Society's headquarters feels like a utopian synthesis of Monáe's past lives in Kansas City and Manhattan. It sits inconspicuously in the midst of suburban Atlanta and looks like every other neighborhood home, with its two floors and brick exterior. Inside is much more ostentatious, with vintage clocks wallpapering the foyer, pristine white couches in the communal living spaces, and books and records everywhere.

It mimics the close-knit, constant accessibility of her childhood in Kansas City, with all its artists popping in and out of the space throughout each day to record new music, rehearse for shows and present the final product to the rest of the collective. At one point, the singer-rapper Jidenna shows up, having recently returned from a trip to Africa – everyone immediately starts teasing him about his newly buff physique.

Simultaneously, Chuck Lightning, seemingly the more extroverted half of two-man funk act Deep Cotton, who make their own music as well as work with Monáe, grabs a bowl of quinoa from the kitchen as Monáe doles out decisions on which version of the "Pynk" video will be released (they settle on the one without the spoken-word love poem that appears within the song in the film).

Monáe recorded most of Dirty Computer here, in a small studio with Havana-inspired decor. Guests and collaborators ranged from Grimes to Brian Wilson, who added harmonies to the title track. The album's liner notes cite Bible verses and a recent Quincy Jones interview alongside Monica Sjöö's The Great Cosmic Mother and Ryan Coogler's Black Panther.

But she was particularly close to one inspiration. Monáe was good friends with Prince, who personally blessed the album's glossy camp tone and synthed-out hooks. "When Prince heard this particular direction, he was like, ‘That's what y'all need to be doing,' " Lightning says. "He picked out that sound as what was resonating with him." Prince gave highly specific music and equipment recommendations from the era they were drawing on, including Gary Numan, whom he loved. "The most powerful thing he could do was give us the brushes to paint with," Lightning says.

Rumors spread that Prince co-wrote the single "Make Me Feel," which features a "Kiss"-like guitar riff. "Prince did not write that song," says Monáe, who sorely missed his advice during the production process. "It was very difficult writing this album without him." Prince was the first person to get a physical copy of The ArchAndroid – she presented the CD to him with a flower and the titles written out by hand. "As we were writing songs, I was like, ‘What would Prince think?' And I could not call him. It's a difficult thing to lose your mentor in the middle of a journey they had been a part of."

Stevie Wonder was another early fan of Monáe, and a conversation between them – Wonder insisted she record it – appears as an interlude on Dirty Computer. At one point, years ago, her budding friendships with both legends collided: She had to choose between playing with Prince at Madison Square Garden or with Wonder in Los Angeles. Prince encouraged her to pick Stevie.

On election night in 2016, Monáe found herself experiencing an unfamiliar emotion. "For the first time," she says, "I felt scared." Overnight, she went from living in a country whose president loved her music and had her perform on the White House lawn to one where it felt like her right to exist was threatened. "I felt like if I wake up tomorrow," she says, "are people going to feel they have the right to just, like, kill me now?"

Monáe had already been a committed activist. In 2015, with members of Wondaland, she created "Hell You Talmbout," which demands we say the names of black Americans who have been victims of racial violence and police brutality. Before #MeToo and Time's Up, Monáe created an organization, Fem the Future, which stemmed from her frustrations about opportunities for women in the music industry. She was called on to perform at the 2017 Women's March and to speak about Time's Up while introducing Kesha at the Grammys. "We come in peace, but we mean business," she told the cheering crowd.

That sums up Monáe's mindset in the Trump era. She hopes not to destroy the oppressors but to change their minds. "The conversations might not happen with people in the position of power," she says, "but they can happen through a movie, they can happen through a song, they can happen through an album, they can happen through a speech on TV. Most of them will probably turn off their TVs, but . . ."

She's in a New York hotel now, two weeks before the album's release. "There's some anxiety there, but I feel brave," she says, teetering between her typical sternness and a bit of vulnerable shakiness. No tears will be shed today. "My musical heroes did not make the sacrifices they did for me to live in fear." Her activism isn't the focus of Dirty Computer, but it's there, hovering above every note. She ended band rehearsal in Atlanta by asking the musicians to reflect on how American this album is. Monáe's America is the one on the fringes; it accepts the outsiders and the computers with viruses, like the ones she thought she had.

She understands the significance of now making her personal life a bigger, louder part of her art. She cites the conversation around one of her films as an example of how she might use her own story to engage with more-conservative listeners. "When I did Hidden Figures, there were some Republican white men tweeting about it and how they just felt bad. You could feel through their tweets that they were just like, ‘These black women did help us get to space. How could we treat them like that?' "

Meanwhile, she's again anticipating questions from her family back in Kansas. She seems more worried about them than what anyone else has to say. Still, Dirty Computer is meant to be a celebration, and if she loses a few people along the way, Monáe seems OK with that risk.

"Through my experiences, I hope people are seen and heard," she says, sitting at a hotel-room desk, dressed up from a day of promo in a puffy black-and-red jacket, matching red pants and terry-cloth hotel slippers. "I may make some mistakes. I may have to learn on the go, but I'm open to this journey." She sighs, voice confident and stare unfaltering. "I need to go through this. We need to go through this. Together. I'm going to make you empathize with dirty computers all around the world."

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/features/cover-story-janelle-monae-prince-new-lp-her-sexuality-w519523

#long reads #janelle monae #janellemonae #wondaland #wondaland records #rolling stones #rolling stone magazine #cover #coverstory

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maevefiction · 7 years ago

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 48

Tom remained at Wilcox Medical until July 11th, and I didn’t leave his side for more than a few minutes during the entirety of his stay…a navy-blue leather recliner to the left of his bed had served as my sleeping spot. Said sleep was elusive, as is the case with any hospital stay. It’s all a blur of doctors and nurses and machines and strange periods of quiet that turn into an assaultive dissonance on a dime. Detective Frye paid us a visit at the hospital the day before Tom was discharged in order to discuss his recollection of the incident, aspiring to fill in as many blanks remaining in the police report as possible. Since there was no one to prosecute, such matters were for the record only, but accurate information was essential in the event that a civil suit was filed by Claudia’s family. I was initially taken aback when Tom asked me to leave the room while he spoke with the detective, and it must have shown on my face because Tom quickly apologized and said he simply wasn’t ready for me to hear any of it, even though I might be ready to listen. Upon my return an hour later, Frye was gone and Tom was visibly upset, with an underlying anger reflected by the tension in his shoulders and the set of his jaw. Though it was a challenge, I didn’t pry, settling instead for squeezing his hand before I retired to my chair and sat in silence with him until he was ready to talk. And when he did, it was about everything and anything other than whatever it was that he’d just shared with a complete stranger.

His recovery had gone smoothly, but we’d found ourselves taking what amounted to a forced vacation in a rented condo on Kauai, waiting for Tom to be cleared to fly to San Diego so he could, hopefully, arrive there in time to participate in the Kong Skull Island panel. Since we’d be in Australia for a large chunk of my pregnancy, I’d decided to choose an obstetrician there, and had managed to find one in London as well who was willing to follow along and take over once we returned home in mid-to-late November. That date was tentative at best since we weren’t sure what physical limitations or restrictions Tom would have nor how they’d affect the Ragnarok shooting schedule. I’d had a basic blood work-up and general physical exam at Wilcox, and when that turned out fine I opted to wait on a sonogram. It seemed silly, but I just didn’t want to forever associate the experience of seeing our progeny for the first time with…whatever the correct term for what we were going through was. Prog…that’s what we’d started calling the little bugger that was making me violently ill at least once a day. Short for progeny, with a ‘j’ sound. The Prog.

Diana, James and the rest of Tom’s family had headed home as soon as he’d been discharged, but Luke and Simon stuck around under the guise of not wanting to fly to London only to have to turn around and fly right back to the US again for SDCC. In reality, I knew the reason for them remaining was because they figured we’d need their companionship and assistance but wouldn’t want to ask for either, which was one-hundred percent correct. They’d taken on the task of finding the rental, packing up our belongings at the hotel and having them ready and waiting when we arrived. No one even asked if I wanted to do it myself, for which I was grateful, because there was no way I was going back there. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able go back there…just looking through our wedding pictures and videos pushed me to the edge of the ‘massive anxiety attack ahead’ cliff, and, in all honesty, I couldn’t wait to get the fuck off of Kauai. Remaining there seemed to make it impossible to process, to try to move forward. I’d begun having nightmares, as had Tom, but we didn’t speak of them in the daylight hours, nor in the dark of night. I knew that there was work to be done, that we needed to find a pathway to healing emotionally…but that didn’t seem possible until things in the physical realm were fully sorted.

Tom’s first follow-up appointment had taken place on the 13th, his second – and last – on the 18th. Dr. Salinas gave him clearance to travel and return to normal physical activity with some limitations…no running and no stunt work for thirty days. After that it would be business as usual, but for the next three months he’d need to self-monitor, and if he noticed any pain or atypical shortness of breath he was to head to the nearest medical facility immediately. Copies of all related paperwork would be sent to the proper department at Marvel for review, and the new shooting schedule emailed once it had been established. Since he was fine to do a majority of planned scenes, it was likely only three weeks or so of actual filming time would be lost. Which was bad enough, but…could have been worse. So much worse. I wondered if I’d always think that way, and if it wasn’t actually a bad way to evaluate one’s current situation. All things should seem less horrible when you pause to consider what’s worse, in theory. I decided to file it under ‘convenient diversionary tactics to avoid dealing with life’, mainly because my pondering had been interrupted by another round of heaving up the contents of my stomach.

All four of us shared a charter to San Diego on the 21st, heading directly from the airport to the same hotel we’d stayed in the year before via a car service. Stepping out of the black Dodge Durango and onto the pavement was surreal…a mix of reporters, media, and attendees thrilled to be among their people again were all around us, and we were paid little to no mind until we entered the lobby. There were stares, pointing, and whispering as well as several shouts from well-wishers. While it was a bit overwhelming after spending so much time in a private setting, the positive energy emanating from those within our space reminded me that there were likely some folks who’d been concerned about us and had been sending along that same energy from a distance via social media. I hadn’t looked, and neither had Tom, but now was probably the time to investigate and at least post a simple thank you if nothing else. I didn’t want to, but it seemed rude not to, so I added it to my mental to-do list.

After check-in we took the elevator up to our floor, and when the doors opened I could feel my body tense at the sight of the narrow hallway. Tom and I stepped out into it, leaving Luke and Simon behind as their room was two floors above us. We walked to our room, the third one on the left, and when I turned to face the door a vision of Claudia knocking on it froze me in place. Once Tom completed sliding the keycard and swung the door inward the contents of the room were clearly visible, and though slow to process the data, my brain cycled logically…not Kauai, different place, dead Claudia, all clear…and I managed to step forward and inside. The door shut behind me with a loud click, and I flinched, then headed for the bathroom. Tom had pulled out his phone and begun talking to someone I assumed was either Jordan or a fellow cast member about the panel’s structure and content. He was still engaged in conversation when I emerged a few minutes later, standing in front of the window that overlooked the city. The setting sun, now at its lowest visible point on the horizon, had created a halo effect that surrounded his upper body, and in that moment, I felt like myself again…normal, even. My version of normal, anyway. And then, there was a knock on the door, and I panicked, whimpering quietly because that’s all my body would permit. Tom didn’t realize anything was awry at first, only turning around when the knocking continued. He took one look at my face, tossed his phone on the bed, and walked quickly to stand in front of me as he loudly stated to whomever was out in the hallway that he’d be right there.

He took my face in his hands ever so carefully, trying his best to keep himself even-keeled for my benefit. “It’s okay. It’s probably just our luggage. I’ll go see, and I promise I’ll leave the bolt on until I’m certain. All right?”

I nodded, watching him from the foot of the bed, unconsciously clenching my hands into fists as I waited for something terrible to unfold. As the door opened my heart began to pound like mad, and when I saw the luggage dolly I sat down, elbows on my knees and my head in my hands…relieved, but confused and embarrassed by my behavior. I heard the door close again, then felt Tom’s weight shift the mattress as he sat beside me. I lifted my head slowly as he slipped his arm around my shoulders. I wanted to say something but I didn’t know where or how to begin, and since he remained silent I assumed he felt the same way. Though it felt wrong to judge so quickly, this was becoming a pattern, and it made me uncomfortable across the board. We hadn’t been intimate since the night before the public wedding ceremony and learning that I was pregnant, and it felt petty and selfish to even be thinking about not having fucked my husband in three weeks when I’d almost lost him forever, but I missed him, missed the reinforcement of the connection between us sex provided, all of it. It had been officially off the table until the restrictions Dr. Salinas had imposed were lifted, and while I’d been expecting to get back to it right away his expectations clearly differed. To be honest, he’d expressed no interest in it whatsoever. I didn’t know what to make of it, and it was another instance of me saying nothing because I had no clue as to what I should say, if anything. I’d also caught him looking at me on multiple occasions while wearing an expression of guilt and/or regret and again, said nothing. A pattern indeed, and an awful one that I was unsure how to break free of, other than being patient until it ran its course. Lord knew he’d been ceaselessly patient with me all along the way, the situation he’d just navigated serving as a prime example. Was that the right way to handle this? Fuck if I knew. What I did know that I was exhausted, and softly announced that I was going to try to get some rest. He kissed the top of my head, rose and began to unpack our luggage as I undressed and crawled under the covers. As I lay there, I realized that it wasn’t only him who hadn’t revealed the details of their experience that day…neither had I. Yet, he’d known the circumstances, enough, at least, to know someone knocking at the door was something I might now find frightening. Had he watched a video of the press conference? Discussed it with Luke or Simon? Or, perhaps, Detective Frye? I sat up, intending to broach the subject, but found myself trapped between needing resolution and wanting to avoid causing him any additional pain. His voice startled me.

“Maude? You okay?”

I stood, nodding. “Tired, but can’t sleep. Gonna take a shower and see if that helps.”

As I walked past him, he set the shirts in his hand down on the dresser in order to reach out for me, pulling me to his chest and kissing the top of my head again, then releasing me. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The carry-on that contained my toiletries was on the floor near him, and I stooped to pick it up and brought it with me into the bathroom. After closing the door behind me, I started to cry. I cried as I unpacked what I needed. I cried as I turned on the water, I cried as I shampooed my hair, I cried as I rinsed it, I cried as I soaped myself and rinsed again, and I cried as I dried myself off and hung the towel back on the rack. My eyes were red when I glanced at my reflection, so I wet a washcloth with cold water and held it over them for several minutes then checked myself out again. Not ideal, but acceptable. I blew my nose, then walked back out into the room. Tom had finished unpacking and was sitting at the room’s desk, laptop open in front of him. He looked up at me, smiling.

“Better?”

“I think so.” I put my hands on my naked hips. “You coming to bed?”

“Not yet…going over a few things for the panel tomorrow. Will it keep you awake if I’m working?”

I shook my head as I allowed my hands to drop to my sides. “I don’t think so. I can always put my earbuds in and listen to music if it does.”

“Okay. I can’t imagine I’ll be at this for more than an hour, honestly, so I’ll be joining you soon. Get some sleep, my love.”

“Okay.” I returned to my tangle of sheets and blankets, my damp hair clinging to my neck, my back turned to him. There was, of course, no sleep to be had, though I pretended to be out cold when he finally settled in beside me two hours later. Once I was positive he was asleep, I got up, put on my robe, pulled out my own laptop and sat at the desk he’d recently vacated to do my own work. Which didn’t require much effort, as the only pressing task on my list was the Skype interview I had set with Chad Morrison for the New York Times tomorrow at 1 PM. I reviewed the most recent Manageall stats Trudy had sent me, created a bullet-point list, then spent the next few hours surfing around checking out random things that I thought might hold my interest and, perhaps, entertain me. I woke up in a puddle of drool with my hand beneath my head resting on the desk, my browser still open and displaying an article entitled ‘Gentle Yoga For A Better Birth’. The system clock read 6:17 AM, and a quick glance at the bed confirmed Tom was still sleeping. I stood, removed my robe, hit the bathroom and then slipped in beside him, waiting for him to awaken and for the day to begin. A new location, a full schedule, little time to dwell…and, hopefully, all of that would amount to first steps down that pathway we needed to traverse.

***************************************

SDCC had gone off without a hitch…everyone was incredibly respectful, and kind. I don’t know why I would have expected anything else, other than that little voice I kept hearing inside my head whispering things like ‘they know it’s all your fault’. My interview with Chad had been published on July 25th, and by the time we arrived on the Gold Coast in Queensland on the 28th Manageall had surpassed the ten thousand subscriber mark. That kept me busy over the next week as I scrambled from our rental house just outside of Oxenford to remotely help Trudy configure new servers and ensure that the system could handle three times our existing traffic, just in case. Five new employees were added within the space of two days, and all but one stayed on board despite being thrown into the fray with little to no training. Ten-thousand plus subscribers was A Big Deal…aka the amount that tipped our monthly gross revenue over the million-dollar mark. It was a milestone that warranted a discussion, one which Luke and I decided to have in person once I returned to London.

Tom had begun filming at Village Roadshow Studios on July 30th, waking each morning at 4 AM, leaving by 4:30 and returning home each night well after 10 PM, showering, then falling into bed exhausted. To make up for lost time, the shooting schedule would be six days a week until a temporary relocation to Brisbane happened in late August. My schedule mirrored his, mainly in order to account for the 9-hour time difference between Queensland and London. When I’d contact Trudy or Luke at 5 AM my time, it was 8 PM the night before where they were. A mindfuck, truly, and it meant I was done working every day by 11 AM at the latest, which left me with entirely too much time to think. Things between Tom and I were still as they were back in San Diego…no conversations about the incident, no sex. Every day had begun to represent another brick being added to the wall building between us. There was no animosity, we still talked about a broad spectrum of other things, still slept in the same bed, but there was a sense of necessitated cautiousness and a distance that hadn’t been there before.

The obstetrician I’d chosen, Dr. Bresden, practiced out of Brisbane, and my first appointment was scheduled for 1 PM on August 15th. The drive up would take about an hour or so, but we figured we’d leave at 11 and allow ourselves some extra time. If my guess as to when I’d conceived was correct, I’d reached the 13-week mark, possibly the 14th, and over the past eight days I hadn’t puked once, which was both awesome and anxiety inducing. Did it mean I was progressing normally, or was, you know, something WRONG? The evening before the sonogram was rough…I was obsessing over the morning sickness waning, and my nightmares had gotten continually worse, to the point wherein I began to dread going to sleep. We’d gone out to dinner with Chris and Elsa, who decided it was time to share their horror stories about child-rearing and childbirth now that Tom and I were official pledges to the Paternity Fraternity. I bitched about it the entire way home, then continued to complain about it after we’d arrived back at the rental house until I thought I heard Tom sigh heavily, at which point I had to decide whether or not to flip the fuck out or let it pass. Since I couldn’t be totally sure, and also because I could readily admit I had one foot over the cray-cray side of the fence, I let it go and we turned in for the night.

The next thing I knew, I was screaming, Tom was yelling, and my hands hurt like a motherfucker. I took stock of my surroundings and realized I was standing in front of the closed bedroom door. Looking down, I saw knuckles that were bruised and bloodied, as were the pinky-sides of my hands. When I looked back up and left and my gaze met Tom’s, my screaming stopped and his yelling ceased, replaced with a loud gasp of relief that was nearly a sob.

“What the fuck HAPPENED? I was asleep. How am I here? I don’t understand.” I reached out and touched the door with a fingertip, searching for confirmation that this was, in fact, reality, and as soon as I pressed down a jolt of pain hit my brain and I…remembered, my body twisting so I could face Tom.

“The Marriott, but…not the real Marriott. I was in the hallway, and you were dead, right there on the floor, and she was dead next to you, and I was just staring and staring and then she moved. She moved. And then she sat up, and she had the gun and she said ‘did you really think you were getting out of here alive’ and then she stood up and it was like something out of the Walking Dead, her eyes were all filmy and when she opened her mouth I could see right through because the back of her head was just…gone. And I turned around and ran down the hall and I tried all the room doors but they were all locked and then I got to the end of the hall and where there should have been stairs there was a door, a metal door, and the handle moved up and down like it was open but it wouldn’t open and I kept looking back over my shoulder and she was moving so slowly, but I couldn’t get the door to open and down at the other end of the hall was just a wall. She talked again and said she was going to wait until she got close to me to pull the trigger because she wanted to watch, she wanted to see…and I screamed for help, for someone to let me out, but no one came and I started to pound on the door, first with the sides of my fists, but then I started to punch it because she kept getting closer and the she touched me, her hand was on my shoulder and I swung around and punched her in the face and I thought she was going to fall down but she didn’t and then I tried to grab the gun but she wouldn’t let go and I went back to hitting the door and jiggling the handle but I knew I was going to die and then…then I…I was here…”

It felt like my heart was going to pound right out of my chest, and as I reached out to touch Tom to make sure I really wasn’t still inside a nightmare I noticed that the left side of his jaw was reddish-purple and that it was streaked with blood. My hands rose in an instant to cover my mouth, and when I spoke my voice was muffled and garbled.

“Oh my god, I hit YOU, didn’t I? Not her. YOU.” I lowered my hands, briefly assessing their condition once more and realizing that the blood on his face was most likely from my knuckles. “Oh my god. Tom, I’m so sorry…so sorry…are you okay? Jesus fucking CHRIST. What ELSE did I do? What is WRONG with me?!”

He stepped forward and embraced me, rubbing my back in slow circles and rocking me gently until he felt my heart rate returned to normal. Pulling back, he placed his hands on my upper arms, eyes focused on mine. “There’s nothing wrong with you. That was a night terror. I knew the risk of intervening…you’re never supposed to, but I couldn’t just stand aside and…anyway. I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

I shrugged, shaking my head back and forth slowly.

“I know. I’m so very sorry, Maude. First things first…those knuckles of yours need to be cleaned, And, we both could use some ice. Will you come to the kitchen with me? We’ll get that bit sorted, and then we can figure out what’s next. All right?” I nodded, and he stepped back, leaving one arm around my waist. He unlocked the bedroom door, opened it, then led me to the counter that held the undermounted stainless steel sink. We were both nude, and as he leaned forward to open the tap and set the right temperature with his free hand I felt the brush of his pubic hair across my hip, then again as he pulled back and released me in order to go find a clean kitchen towel. More than a year ago in New Orleans I’d had a brief case of performance anxiety after he’d revealed his full sexual history, but this, this was the first time ever that being naked in his presence made me feel uncomfortable. It was more than that, really…I felt self-conscious and exposed. I wrapped my arms around myself, and when he returned to my side I spoke, my chin lowered to my chest as I stared down at the water circling the drain.

“Would you mind getting me my robe?”

He placed two tan and white towels on the counter. “No, not at all…shall I turn the thermostat up a few degrees as well?”

I shook my head. “No thank you. I’m not cold.”

He hesitated, and I said nothing, continuing to stare. I heard his bare feet padding across the tile, the sound fading as he entered the bedroom. Upon the resumption of the sound I forced myself to lift my head and turn to look at him as he drew closer. In his hands was my black silk robe, and when I noticed he’d put on his navy-blue running shorts it dawned on me that by saying I wasn’t cold I’d clued him in as to what was on my mind, at least in part. He held the garment open so I could slip into it easily, his eyes averted as I carefully worked my arms through the sleeves. Though it wasn’t exactly pleasant, I tied the belt on my own. The water was still running, and he reached in and dipped his index finger into the stream.

“That feels all right to me.” His voice was nearly toneless, any emotion present seeming somehow forced. He reached for my right wrist, then paused, eyes asking for permission when I met his gaze. I nodded, then turned to watch as his hand encircled my wrist and guided my knuckles slowly into the streaming water. When I winced at the intensity of the stinging he spoke again, voice now trembling.

“I’m sorry.” He patted my right hand dry ever-so-gently, then moved on to my left. I winced again as the water made contact, noting that Tom’s own hands had begun to shake. By the time he’d dried my left hand off with the second towel, his entire body was quivering, and at that point I realized he was weeping. My head jerked upward and I swiveled my torso so I could see his face. He looked down and away, holding his hand up palm out toward me as he strode rapidly into the living room. I followed, and when I came to rest directly in front of him he spun around, leaving me with a view of his bare shoulders and back contorting as he sobbed.

This was it, then…the tipping point. Seeing him this way overrode my own emotional disarray, and I couldn’t imagine that anything I might say would make the situation worse, so I went all in.

“Tom. We need to talk.” He shook his head, and I gingerly placed my hand on his upper back between his shoulder blades. “Tom.” The contact was broken by him taking two steps forward. “Okay, no touching. That’s fine. But…”

He spun back around, blinking to clear his vison. “You want to touch me?”

“Of course I want to touch you. Why wouldn’t I want to touch you?”

His arms rose from his sides, bent at the elbow with his hands extended, fingers splayed and pointing in my direction as he looked me up and down. “Since you don’t want me to see you, I’m assuming you’d prefer that I also don’t touch you, which leads me to believe you’d prefer to not see or touch me, either.”

“That’s an incorrect assumption all around. I’d prefer it if you did touch me. But you haven’t, not in the way I’d expect you to, and you’ve given me no indication as to why you haven’t, which has caused me to assume that you’re no longer interested in me sexually, which has ultimately resulted in my feeling self-conscious and exposed when standing naked in your presence. Is my assumption as off base as yours?” Not an easy question to ask, that one. I hadn’t thought it through and wondered what the fuck would happen if he said no.

He nodded repeatedly. “Yes. It is. Completely.”

I lifted my arms and extended them outward at shoulder height, palms to the ceiling. “And that’s precisely why we need to talk, Tom. Ow.” Down went the arms, though it didn’t really do a whole hell of a lot for the throbbing ache in my hands. “We’ve avoided this conversation for far too long…instead we danced around the subject in an effort to prevent causing each other any additional pain. But that didn’t work. That never works, and I know that, but here we are…staring at each other across an ever-widening chasm which will eventually grow too vast to bridge. This distance, this disconnect…it’s awful. I’ve seen the pain in your eyes, and the anger, the guilt, the regret…and there’s my own shit I need to talk about…but I’ve stayed silent for fear of hurting you and I don’t want to do that anymore, Tom. I don’t think I CAN do it anymore.” There were two beige micro-fiber chairs on one side of the living room, and a matching couch on the other. We were standing between them, and I sat down at one end of the sofa. Tom hesitated at the other end briefly, then decided to sit in the middle, right by my side, and began to speak.

“I’m afraid. It terrifies me, the thought of my lung collapsing again. What if the next time I’m not so fortunate? What if it kills me, and you’re left here alone, and our child grows up without ever knowing me? All day long, with everything I do that’s even remotely physical, I’m aware of every breath that seems even remotely atypical, every twinge of the muscles in my torso. I’ve been counting down and focusing on the three-month marker because that’s when the risk of it happening again decreases to align with the norm. I’ve promised myself that then, that’s it, there’s no further need to worry, that I can let it go. I want to let it go. I hope I can let it go. But that’s why I haven’t…we haven’t. I wouldn’t want you to have to live with that, us loving each other being the end of me. And I should have told you. I should have. And I’m sorry. There’s another reason as well, and it’s a completely irrational fear but it feels real, and present. I’m sure it’s relative in some fashion to my past loss, but…I…”

Thinking in such a macabre and medieval-esque fashion was not Tom’s style, and that his mind had gone there was indicative of what a mess he’d been, and I was both impressed with and distressed by how well he’d managed it all from me. “You’re afraid that if we have sex I might have a miscarriage.”

He turned to face me, nodding. “It’s ludicrous. This I know. It’s not specifically that sex would be the cause, but if such a thing were to happen within close proximity of the act…and Maude, I just…I…I feel like death is just…it’s always lurking…even on set, you know? Loki’s role in Ragnarok is redemptive, there’s a comprehensive resolution, and he finally is able to ascertain his place in the universe and be at peace with it, and perhaps begin to experience happiness, or at least contentment…but I know what awaits him, that this moment for him is fleeting at best and I can’t help but see parallels there to my own reality.” Pausing, he rested his head in his hands, then moved them slowly back to his lap as he turned sideways, right leg bent with his knee on the couch resting centimeters from my left thigh. I shifted to mirror his position as he swallowed hard before continuing.

“I was mid-way through my run when I saw her. She waved at me as if her being there was perfectly normal. It made my blood boil, and instead of having the wherewithal to get back to the hotel as quickly as possible I approached her. I asked her what the fuck she was doing there, and told her she needed to leave immediately or she’d wind up with a police escort off the property. The mask of a friendly greeting fell away and she said ‘How could you let her to this to me, Tom? Let her ruin my life? I did what I had to do so she couldn’t trap you, and instead of being grateful you let her lie about me to the world, and then you married her. You married her, when you know how much I love you. And you love me. We belong together, you know that. She’s brainwashed you, that’s what’s going on here. She’s trying to keep us apart, and you can’t just roll over and and let it happen. Tom, come with me right now. We’ll run away and be happy, you and me, just us. Please. You have to come with me.’ And I told her I would do no such thing, that not only did I not love her, I regretted every moment I’d spent with her and that I wished I’d never met her, that I wished I could go back in time and tell her to get the fuck away from me when she crawled under the table to suck my dick. That whenever I thought about having fucked her it made me physically ill. And then I told her I was so lucky and so blessed that in spite of the mistakes I’d made I’d found you, that I’d never loved anyone like you before, and I never would again. Her response was that this was all your fault, that you’d stolen me away from her, and that if she couldn’t have me, no one would…and that’s when she pulled the gun out of the gift bag and shot me. The pain knocked me down and back and I fell onto the sand, and she put the gun back in the bag and said she really thought she wouldn’t need to use it, but I was too far gone and you were to blame. And that if she was going to have to pay for her crimes, you’d have to pay for yours too. She smiled at me, knelt down in the sand, kissed my check, said goodbye, then got up and took off running down the beach toward the hotel. I sat up, and the pain…and the blood…but I had to go after her. Each step I took seemed an eternity, and I couldn’t run, but I needed to get to you. I realized I’d never catch her, and that I was close to Luke and Simon’s room, so I began to walk that way. And then I crawled. But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t get to you. I set all this in motion, there in that moment. I let my anger get the best of me and we both almost died because of it. In LA, when she threw the highball glass at you…I should have known. Up until that moment I was her focus, and she still believed that her and I would have a relationship at some point. You were just a minor inconvenience, a bump in the road. When she discovered that you knew about the videos…that’s where the shift happened. You became her target, the one to blame. I didn’t see it. I should have seen it. Having you speak at the press conference instead of handling it on my own was akin to painting a bullseye on your chest. And when you needed me most, when I should have been the one to face the monster I’d invited into my orbit, I wasn’t there for you, or for our child. I wasn’t there, Maude. I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t save you. I wasn’t THERE.”

For the first time in a long while…since our wedding day, really…I saw him…really saw him. Because he’d finally let me see him again. Sitting before me was a man so burdened by guilt and sorrow that he had no tears left to cry…an anxious, exhausted, depressed, defeated man positively teeming with self-loathing. My husband. A rush of pure, unadulterated love washed over me followed by an irrepressible urge to comfort him and banish all his fears that resulted in my reaching out and taking his hands in my damaged own, oblivious to the pain.

“Tom. No one sees this kind of thing coming. This is the stuff of late-night crime dramas and tragic Oscar-bait films. There was no way for you to know. I didn’t know, either…and believe me, I’ve beaten myself up for it, too. I’m the one who got in her face in LA and spouted off about prison. And no one ‘had’ me do anything…I stood at that podium of my own volition and called her bluff. I knew she’d be pissed, and I did it not only in spite of that fact, but, at least in a small way, because of it. The blame for that falls squarely on my shoulders. But what she did…no, Tom. It’s not your fault, it’s not my fault…that’s all on her. It was her choice. Her decision. And she was too much of a coward to answer for it. And even though I know all that, the logic behind it, I still feel guilty about how I handled all of it every day…and I thought you’d distanced yourself because you blamed me. Do you blame me?”

He shook his head, voice barely a whisper. “No. I thought the same…do you blame me?”

“No. I do not. I have not. Not even for a second. And there’s something else you need to know, Tom.” Those blue eyes full of trepidation met my brown ones. “You’re right about not being there…but you’re wrong about not protecting me, and you’re wrong about not being able to save me. When I opened that door and she was standing in the hallway, I was frozen in place. I couldn’t move. I watched the gun rise higher and higher and inside my head I was screaming ‘close the door, close the door’ but I couldn’t and then that faded and the only thought I had left was ‘she’s going to shoot me now’. And then I heard a man’s voice shouting for her to drop her weapon, and that broke the spell. That voice is the reason why I was able to get the door closed. That voice is the reason why those three bullets lodged in the door and not in my flesh. The man that voice belonged to? Police officer. And why was he there in exactly that place at precisely that time? Because you sent him, Tom. You sent him upstairs. You gave him the room number. You told him to go, GO! And he went. If you hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you on the couch right now…so I don’t ever want to hear you say you couldn’t protect me or that you couldn’t save me ever again. You might not have been by my side when it happened, but you saved my life and our child’s life all the same. And you risked your own life to do it, Tom. Dr. Salinas said if you’d have stayed still your lung wouldn’t have fully collapsed so quickly. But you didn’t stay still. You got up over and over again and kept going and being in restraints couldn’t even stop you. You almost died that day in order to make sure we didn’t. Do you understand that? You almost died. To save your family. If that’s not protecting what you love, then I don’t know what the fuck IS.”

When our eyes met his lower lip began to quiver and I tightened my grip on his hands. “That day, outside the recovery room, Dr. Salinas…she said that she couldn’t explain why you made it through so well…why you lived. She didn’t phrase it quite that way, but that was the gist of it. But I know why. When you got word that I was alive, that I was unharmed…you went to war. You waged a battle with the final enemy. And you were victorious. You returned to me, to us. You fought death that day and you won, Tom. You came back. You came home.”

His gaze turned toward our joined hands a he positioned his left ring finger so it was next to mine, the silver bands that bound us clinking softly together in the silence. He looked back up at me, the right corner of his mouth having curled upward in a half-smile, tears tracking down his cheeks and through his stubble like tiny pachinko balls. “When I promised to never let you go, I meant it.”

I began to sob then, as did Tom. He pulled me onto his lap, my bottom nestled between his thighs, legs sideways, feet resting on the cushion I’d just vacated. He wrapped his left arm around my waist, the right around my shoulders, hand cradling my head and pressing it gently to his left shoulder. He rocked us back and forth, side to side, his face buried in my hair. When the weeping ceased, I ran my right thumb along the base of his left one, that oddly sensual spot of flesh which allows lovers to steal moments of secret erotic pleasure in full view of the world. As he began to do the same in turn, there it was…a spark of the energy within us both demanding to be set free so it could unite each with the other’s and light our collective world ablaze. I raised my head to take stock of his expression, wondering if he felt it as well. His tongue snaked across his lips and I inhaled sharply, which earned me a an ecstatic eyeroll and a pelvic thrust from him, his cock hard against my ass. He kissed me then, both our mouths open from the start. There was no finesse in any of it, all tongues and saliva and clashing of teeth as he undid my robe and cupped my left breast in his right hand, thumb stroking back and forth over my nipple. His touch caused me to gasp and cant my hips, and I could feel his body tensing…whether it was with fear or desire, I couldn’t be certain. I removed his hand from my breast and stood up, then turned to face him as I let my robe drop from my shoulders and fall to the floor. Leaning forward, I placed my hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes, again unsure of whether it was lust or terror at hand.

“Tom, honey…please don’t put any pressure on yourself. It’s okay if you’re afraid. I understand. Now that I know why…I’m fine. Take your time with this. Please.”

He grabbed my hips and pulled me forward and down, his words nearly a growl. “I’m afraid I’ve reached the point wherein the chances of me dying are far greater if I can’t have you right now as opposed to any other scenario.” He looked up at me and for a second or two I would have sworn it was Loki whose eyes I saw, but then Tom was back where he belonged, expression now pleading. “Will you ride me?”

I nodded, placing one knee on either side of his lap. He didn’t even bother with removing his shorts, instead pushing back the elastic just enough to allow him to reach in and free his cock. When the head of it connected with my wetness we both groaned. I shifted forward so he was poised at my entrance but paused before welcoming him inside, needing assurance that he was certain about taking this step.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

He answered without hesitation, voice thick with desire. “Yes. I’m sure. I want you. I need you. I need to be inside you. Yes.”

I lowered myself onto his cock, relishing in the feel of it stretching me, filling me…of how it melded two separate beings into a combined entity that pulsed with unified power and unequaled pleasure. Tom’s head had lolled back onto the back of the couch, eyes closed, his elegant neck and jawline demanding attention from my tongue as I began to circle my hips. I was careful to avoid the bruised area, licking around and down until I reached the hollow of his collarbone, and the whine such ministrations elicited caused my unhurried gyrating to turn to a forceful, rapid rise and fall. His eyes opened, head lifting off the couch as he reached around to take hold of my ass cheeks, one in each hand, pulling outward.

“Maude. Oh Maude. MAUDE. Don’t stop please don’t stop I love you I love you I love you…” His lips found mine, tongue thrusting into my mouth as I rode him harder until he came, his breath and mine one and the same as his come painted my walls in a continuous gush of warm spurts that I thought might go on forever. His index finger found my clit and I orgasmed instantly, clenching and squeezing around him as if my body was insistent on locking him in place, an idea I thoroughly supported. It wasn’t until he broke the kiss and that I noticed he was panting, and I took his face in my hands, the past minutes eclipsed by a deep-seated concern for his well-being.

“Are you okay? Can you breathe? Do you have any pain? Tom?”

He inhaled, then exhaled, smiling softly. “No pain. Nothing unusual, just the normal effect being incredibly well fucked by my gorgeous wife has on me. I’m fine.” His smile faded, replaced with an expression of concern likely similar to the one he’d seen me wearing seconds before. “How are you? Everything okay?”

I nodded. “Yep. I’m good. Exhausted, but good. And all of a sudden I really, really want salt and vinegar potato chips. Like, bad. They have those here, right? Man…I can almost taste them…wow, this is…”

His smile returned as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, our chests pressed together. “That sounds like it might be a craving. I believe I’m obligated to dress and head out now, in the middle of the night, to track down your snack of choice and bring it home posthaste.”

Though I admittedly salivated at the thought, my body’s need for sleep overrode what was in essence just a ‘want’. “As much as I appreciate your willingness to do so…no. The only place you’re going is back to bed with me. If you’re willing to risk round two, that is.” His left eyebrow rose, a small smirk that for some ridiculous reason made me blush appearing on his face. I rolled my eyes in an effort to distract him from the pink-hued heat that I could feel reaching my cheeks. “I meant round two as in a boxing match. You know, because I punched you? Round of boxing.”

He rubbed the tip of his nose against mine. “Oh goodness me…it appears I’ve got a blushing bride on my hands. Well, technically, on my cock, but…”

I covered my face with my hands as I shook my head. “Do you always have to notice EVERY LITTLE THING Tom? Seriously.”

He pulled my hands away carefully and kissed my forehead. “It’s adorable. Reminds me of the day we met…when we were in Kauai Pasta. You were sipping your soda and I watched the flush spread from your chest up your neck and that’s when you took too big a sip and began to choke.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh my god, you saw that? I was, like, half-joking about you noticing every little thing. Christ in a sidecar.”

Shrugging, he brought my left hand to his lips and placed a kiss in the center of my palm. “In my defense, I was bewitched. Mesmerized by your beauty, your essence…your everything. And I’ve always wondered what you were thinking of in that moment…”

“Oh you have, have you? Allow me to fill you in then. The server had just asked us if we wanted cocktails and I thought hmm, I wonder how that particular compound word came to be and that led me to…your cock, Tom. I was thinking about your cock.”

His brow furrowed, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “No you were not.”

I nodded, lips pressed together, eyes wide. “Oh, but yes I was. And, like, I’ve never STOPPED thinking about it so…you know, here we are.”

He roared with laughter, and I realized that it had been entirely far too long since I’d heard that sound, which made me tear up because that laugh…it was akin to a hymn, at least when it fell upon my ears, and my god, how I’d missed it. How I’d missed him. When he noticed that not only had I not joined in but was visibly upset he guided my head to rest on his shoulder, one hand wound in my hair and the other rubbing my back as he whispered softly.

“Maude, it’s all right. I understand that you may be sad, or angry…whatever it is you’re feeling, I’m here for you. I’m so very, very sorry I haven’t been. But I am now. I’ll help you through all of it. I know it won’t always be easy, for either of us, but we can do it. Together. Together, there’s nothing we can’t do.”

I lifted my head and leaned back, reaching up to trace his jawline with my right index finger. “I’m not sad, really…and I’m not angry…it’s just…I just…I missed you.” I gestured down to where we remained joined. “I missed this. That’s probably selfish and stupid but you…you’re a part of me and this is when you’re MOST a part of me and…and…I’m very, very sorry too. I wasn’t there for you, either. And you’re right about it not always being easy, because this is the big leagues of fuckery. I’m afraid of closed doors and…hello, night terrors. Sometimes it’s hard to be grateful when you’re overwhelmed by fear, but I know for sure I need to turn my focus toward what’s good, and there really, truly is an astonishing abundance of good, isn’t there? I’m here, you’re here, Prog will be here too soon enough…we are blessed, and it’s true…together, there’s nothing we can’t do. I love you. So much. So, so much. My god, we’re having a baby. It still doesn’t seem real…”

He smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion that after your appointment tomorrow it will seem very, VERY real. In just a few hours, we’re going to get to see Prog. It’s…it’s…”

My eyes squeezed shut. “You mean my appointment this morning. Yikers, it’s so late it’s early and we haven’t slept and between your jaw and my knuckles we’re going to look like we had a knock-down drag out fight, but yes, WE ARE GOING TO SEE PROG.”

He lifted me by my hips, his semi-soft cock slipping out of me, then shifted me sideways so he could pick me up as he rose off the couch. “Off to bed we go, my love.” He carried me into the bedroom and placed me gently on my preferred half of the mattress, then climbed in behind me. “I love you, Maude Hiddleston. Sleep now. I’ll be right here, watching over you. Over you both.”

And I slept. It was fitful, and there were dreams…bad ones…but each time I woke from one, he was there, one arm around my waist, one leg atop both my own…warm and alive, and in that I found peace. Whenever he stirred, and he did often, I’d press my body backward into him and pull his arm tighter around me, stroking it with my fingertips until he stilled again, hopefully having found a peace of his own. The dawn came and went, the alarm began its electronic bleating at 10 AM, and we staggered to the shower hand in hand…gripping loosely, as I was still hurting, though not as much as I thought I would be. By the time we’d finished washing each other, the excitement in the air around us was palpable. Though I was still anxious about the appointment with Dr. Bresden, this was it, the moment. I patted my belly as I was drying the underside of my boobs.

“Hi in there, Prog. Big day today. Mamma and Daddy get to see you. Feel free to wave and stuff, okay? We love you.” Tom gasped, and I turned to look at him. One hand was over his mouth, and his eyes shone with tears. I tilted my head. “What?”

“I don’t…have you…I don’t think I’ve heard you do that before.”

“I have…but maybe not out loud? I think…probably only in my head. Huh. I really don’t know…”

He knelt before me on the tile, first kissing then addressing my stomach. “Prog, you are indeed loved. We can’t wait to see you, and before you know it you’ll be our here in the world with us, and we can’t wait for that, either. To share our lives with you…you, Mamma and me…our little family.” As he stood he wiped away his tears with the back of his left hand, grinning at me. “So…Mamma, then?”

Shrugging, I shook my head back and forth several times. “What can I say? Looks like my New Orleans is showing. It just sounded…”

“Perfect. It sounds perfect, Mamma.” He said it with a drawl, and I sighed.

“Godammit, Tom. That’s not supposed to be sexy.”

His grin widened. “Why not? You’re sexy, so logically...”

“Shut up with your logic.”

“As you wish, my love. Breakfast here or on the road?”

“On the road. Make it a double.”

He embraced me. “We’re off to view a miracle. What a thing.”

“It is. It so is.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 48

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jezfletcher · 2 years ago

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1000 Albums 2022: Albums #25-16

I'm a bit late in writing up my Top Albums this year, but it being the first day of 2023, I thought it's probably a good time to look back on the year that was in music, and start writing up my top albums. As has been the case since 2016 (wow, 7 years of this now), Sam and I have listened to over 1000 albums this year, and I've distilled the very best of 2022's music into just a top 25. For the stats-curious: we hit 1032 albums in total this year, of which 938 were actually released in 2022 (that's 91% brand new music). That added up to over 11,000 individual tracks, and almost 717 hours of unique music (that's about an entire month listening 24 hours a day). My Spotify Wrapped said I listened for more than twice this when you take into account relistening and so-on—so it's undoubtedly a big undertaking. In addition to our 2022 albums, we listened to 2 "throwback" albums from previous years each week, and managed complete retrospectives of four different artists' work. This year, the lucky artists were Van Dyke Parks (including the various albums for other artists that he produced and arranged for), Buffy Sainte-Marie, Tracy Chapman, and Blur. Of these, the absolute standout was Buffy Sainte-Marie, who was a revelation to me. For two sides of a fascinating artist, check out My Country Tis Of Thy People You're Dying, one of the best bist of protest folk I've ever heard, or the psychedelic folk rock of Sweet September Morning. Amazing stuff. Anyway, we're not really here to talk about that, but I can't resist putting a little call-out for Buffy. We're here to count down my Top Albums of 2022. I've gone fom 25 to 16 in this post. Tomorrow, I'll count down 15-5, leaving the top 5 for a big reveal in a few days. But lets get started...

25. Bitch - Bitchcraft (experimental queer pop)

Bitchcraft by Bitch

Kicking off the writeups this year we have this pot-pourri of experimental and less-experimental queer electropop from self-styled poet-witch Bitch. It has all the anarchy of true punk, laced with screaming electronic hooks and a consistent use of Bitch's iconic violin. But she also turns in soulful, melodic ballads like Another Wound, which may be the best piece of music on the album. It all makes for a rich and varied experience, always with a very unique and personally engaging world view. As an iconic song from the album though, which represents all the wonderful genre-smashing, I can't go past "Hello Meadow!". You'll like it if you want: Lindsey Stirling, only weirder, and queer rather than fundamentalist Christian.

24. Lack the Low - God-Carrier (avant-pop)

God-Carrier by Lack The Low

Björk had an excellent album this year; it ended up #34, so just missing out on a write-up. But instead we have Lack the Low, an Australian artist who obviously owes some inspiration to the darker parts of Björk's oeuvre. I heard the excellent The Sharpest Knife playing one Saturday morning on our local community radio station, and it immediately thrust God-Carrier on to my listen-list for the following week. She does wonderfully atmospheric electro-prog with a sense of build to her tracks that drives towards an often ecstatic, cathartic finish. While The Sharpest Knife was my introduction, I think the best track is the opener, Rushlight. You'll like it if you want: independent Aussie artists taking barbershop in strange new directions.

23. Kae Tempest - The Line Is A Curve (spoken-word poetry)

kaetempest · Priority Boredom

One of our finest modern poets, Kae Tempest brought back the punch of their spoken-word outings like Let Them Eat Chaos and Everybody Down, leaving behind what I found more introspective and downbeat in their previous 2019 album. This pushes Tempest back into the upper echelons of the year with The Line Is a Curve, another collab between Tempest's gripping delivery with Dan Carey's electronic production—together they provide one of the most potent electronic albums of the year, while Tempest proves once again why they are lyrically such a powerhouse. Hard to single out a track to represent the whole album—its potency comes from the accumulation of the whole—but I've shared here Priority Boredom which I feel is a fabulous entry to the album. You'll like it if you like: contemporary spoken-word poetry or modern electronica. You'll love it if you like: both of the above.

22. Murder By Death - Spell/Bound (gothic country)

Spell/Bound by Murder By Death

Atmospheric indie rock by way of That Haunted Gorge Where All Those Cowboys All Mysteriously Disappeared Exactly 10 Years Ago Tonight, Murder By Death provide a wonderfully dark take on modern Americana. This is all about creating a mood with their sophisticated rock, lashed with country elements. It's music for driving at night through West Texas, or for that hipster bar in Asheville that hasn't quite shaken off its bluegrass roots entirely. This is an album I could absolutely listen to end-to-end and consider it a singular experience. It's hard to single out something again—this is about the whole journey, not the sights along the way—but I'll go with Never Be which I think is possibly the most accessible, even if it's not that emblematic of the whole album. You'll like it if you like: country, but only kinda secretly.

21. Telenova - Stained Glass Love (indie pop)

Stained Glass Love by Telenova

Easily my highest-rated EP of the year, this 5-track outing gets a big boost from having a Track of the Week for the title track, and then following it up with another a few weeks later when we heard the full EP, this time for Silver Lining, which is a wonderfully melancholy bit of downtempo pop that shifts its way through various harmonic peculiarities. As always when this kind of jewel-studded EP appears, you fear that it's just the precursor to a bigger debut album which will seem less novel when it's just "this EP stretched out to 45m long". But presuming that this is a stand-alone, it's a great one. I've highlighted the title track here, but you can spare the 21m to listen to the whole thing. You'll like it if you like: anything of modern indie pop, or 90s downtempo

20. Mice Parade - lapopọ (post shoegaze)

lapapọ by Mice Parade

I came across Mice Parade for the first time at the 2008 Sydney Festival, where I completely eschewed their show, but was waiting outside the Spiegeltent waiting a different performance while they were on inside. I was rapt by their fascinating blend of dreamy shoegaze and complex polyrhythms, even if the sound was muted by the canvas between me and them. Fortunately, since then, while I've not managed to catch them live, I've fallen in love with their albums, and their latest might be their best. It has the same hypnotic drawl of Adam Pierce's vocals (an anagram of "Mice Parade", you'll note), with fluid motivic guitar riffs and multi-layered drum-patterns. This is an album that builds up over time, but I have to call out Eisa Dancers which starts with this ethereal riff (possibly on hammered dulcimer, or on a koto) and builds waves, wending in and out of the dream-like otherworldiness. You'll like it if you like: a novel take on jangly indie rock.

19. Keston Cobblers Club - Alchemy (twee folk)

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I've recently very much become attached to the music reviews site At The Barrier, which does a great job of unearthing music that I find nowhere else—they also have a particular focus on various kinds of folk, and this is one of those albums this year which comes solely from ATB. It's an eclectic album, jumping between variations of folk pop, switching out singers and showing off their multi-instrumental prowess. I could call out quite a few song here—Jupiter has a wonderful expansive space-folk sound (is that a thing? it should be), Rigmarole brings in tuba and accordion for a kind of indie-trad sound, Tarantula has a musical theatricality to it to bring the album home. I might just go with one of the early tracks Find My Way, which sits a little more in the centre of everything. You'll like it if: you're not afraid of a bit of a trad folk sound, but still enjoy pop songwriting.

18. Frank Turner - FTHC (alt punk)

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Frank Turner is a little hard to classify, because he definitely comes from a punk background, but now turns to a kind of raucous singalong pub rock—he can also pull together a genuinely excellent bit of pop like his satirical Make America Great Again from 2018. Here, he's in more of a heavier, angrier, shoutier style for the most part, even when he sticks with pop tropes like in Haven't Been Doing So Well, or the show-ending Farewell To My City. The standout track for me here though is the wonderful Miranda, a story about reconciling with his father after she came out as trans. You'll like it if you like: hard indie rock, or punk with a soft heart.

17. bis - Systems Music for Home Defence (electropunk)

Systems Music For Home Defence by bis

A great collection of eclectic, shouty electropop that takes the kind of 80s sound back to its post-punk root, and is willing to have fun along with way. I love music that doesn't take itself too seriously (my common refrain is that you should be able to tell that the band is having fun), and this has this feeling all over it. Bis has only released about an album every 5 years or so since 2000, although they've been around since the mid-90s (and broken up then reformed at least once), and you can feel like they're pretty happy just doing what they want—nothing is forced in this album. They've got nothing to prove, and they can do the things that work for them. My pick here is the opening track Lucky Night, which has a pointed satire to it, as well as a super-catchy indie pop sound. You'll like it if you like: 00s electropunk, after big beat went off in a weird direction.

16. Death's Dynamic Shroud - Darklife (slushwave)

Darklife by death's dynamic shroud

This is a bit of a monster, both in terms of its length, and its aggressive, spiky electronica. It takes some of the massive symphonic sound of someone like Roly Porter, but adds synthpop elements, along with the kind of knowing deconstruction of hyperpop. I relistened to this on a drive between Sydney and Canberra and I realised that I'd probably massively underrated it earlier in the year (even though it won my Album of the Week the week it was released). But it's an album that you really need to experience in its entirety to get its full impact. That being said, there's a nice sample of the whole in the epic, progressive Messe de E-102, which gets my nod here. You'll like it if you like: Wagner

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