#Roach Introductory

[sparkyblizz]

Starship is unironically a wonderful musical, I think it's one of StarKid's best and it's definitely one of my favourites, all the actors are so amazing, like, Joey Richter makes Bug such a wonderful naive protagonist, Brant Cox is a perfect best friend sidekick in Roach, Dylan Saunders is wonderful as the villain, Pincer, and doubles up as the wonderful, simple farm boy Tootsie Noodles, not to mention the rest of the Starship Rangers are all wonderful, my favourite characters! Denise Donovan plays the charming and ditzy love interest as February really well, Lauren Lopez shines as Taz, the tough tomboy, Meredith Stepien is obviously amazing as Mega-Girl, Brian Holden is so hilarious as the pathetic yet super evil Junior, Joe Walker is WONDERFUL as Commander Up, the former tough guy turned insecure sweetheart GOD Joe Walker is on another level, and even though Joe Moses and Julia Albain play smaller roles as Krayonder and Specs, I still find their performances super fun, as well as Jim Povolo, Jaime Lyn Beatty and Nick Lang as wonderful supporting cast with great voices and great range, and the songs are wonderful, Kick It Up A Notch is a genuinely AMAZING villain song, The Way I Do is one of my favourite love songs, I Wanna Be is a perfect introductory and I want song, and Status Quo, Get Back Up, and Life are bangers, not to mention the other songs that are also good! I could talk about this musical all day, the way that there's motifs from other songs present, like how there's a part of Life in Kick It Up A Notch, sung by Pincer, echoing when Bug previously sung the lament, and how lyrics from I Wanna Be come in as well as Pincer offers Bug the chance to be everything he's wanted to be, and there's even other smaller times we notice the motifs, like how in the introductory video Bug watches from the crashed starship, the instrumental of Get Back Up is playing, and the instrumental of Life is playing when the bugs first see the starship... God I'm obsessed with this musical you do not understand

[ceilidho]

i saw your post about your recommended nonfiction books and can’t wait to read them! would you happen to have any more you suggest? i love learning about the world and how others perceive it ❤️

oh yes i have sooooo many nonfiction recs......it's probably my favourite genre tbh, i try to always read 1 non-fiction for every fiction book i read.

"a natural history of love" and "a natural history of the senses" by diane ackerman. i'm also currently reading her book "the moon by whalelight (and other adventures among bats, penguins, crocodilians, and whales)". she is the most evocative nonfiction writer on planet earth.

i recommended this in my last list but "underland" by robert macfarlane.

"everybody: a book about freedom" by olivia laing - a very good book by a very good writer. queer history, gay liberation, women's rights, reproductive rights, what does it mean for a body to be 'free'.

mary roach, overall, is a very good and very funny non-fiction writer. i've read "spook" (about ghosts and the afterlife) and "fuzz" (about animals and the law) so far, both such good books.

"all about love" by bell hooks. tbh anything by bell hooks.

"the body in pain" by elaine scarry. not for everyone. it's a study on torture and pain and how pain makes and unmakes the world. i read it for a paper i had to write in grad school because i've always been interested in literary trauma theory and it was so informative. also, maggie nelson's "the art of cruelty" and susan sontag's "regarding the pain of others".

"freedom is a constant struggle" by angela davis. so much i could say about this book - it's not dense, it tackles so so much like palestine, prison abolition, the anti-apartheid movement in south africa, and so much more.

anything by rebecca solnit, but start with "hope in the dark" or "the mother of all questions".

"SPQR" by mary beard. if you are at all interested in roman history, this is where to start.

"a short history of nearly everything" by bill bryson is also a very good like....introductory / condensed history book. so so interesting!!

now i haven't read this quite yet but i'm soooooo excited to read "the dawn of everything: a new history" by david graeber and david wengrow.

"four lost cities" by annalee newitz. this book looks at the ancient cities of pompeii in italy, çatalhöyük in turkey, cahokai in the americas, and angkor in cambodia, and delves into how people lived in these cities and how they were built and used. very cool!!!

most of these are history or cultural conversations because those are my favourite non-fiction books to read (i'm not really a big memoir/biography girl). i left off some of my favourite literary criticism books because idk how many people care about that, but if you want those recs lmk!

[deadboyfriendd]

𝙑𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙤 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡. E.M.

Summary: Eddie isn't in college, but he sells drugs at college parties. He usually isn't into these kinds of girls, cokeheads home for the long weekend, but what happens when he meets you?

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, obvs a lil canon-divergent, fratboy adjacent!Steve, wingman!Robin, drug use, angst to fluff, smut included

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 9.1k

Author's Note: This is secretly based off of a Fall Out Boy song. Spear me please.

Also this is 100% for @dr-aculaaa , Drac helped me out with a TON of the dialogue and plot in this and she deserves 100% of the hype for this. PLEASE go read her work.

Eddie isn’t in college, but he sells drugs at college parties. 

He’s overstimulated. Both by the heat of the girl grasping and gripping his arm that was turning it unpleasantly raw and by the lack of anything substantial that he could focus his senses on. He can’t remember her name, and it wasn’t because of the seventeen other things distracting his senses, either. She was inherently unremarkable. Another cokehead from The Hideout. College girls home for the long weekend. Love does not occur in dive bar bathrooms, Eddie knew that much. 

He could tell her apart immediately, a Pamela Anderson wannabe with all of the intuition to sniff out anyone remotely Tommy Lee adjacent. The glorification of hard drugs and dysfunction. This would not go anywhere but possibly the bathroom, where she would emerge with a misty ring of powder white around her left nostril and blown pupils. He would taste the drip on her later that night when she would kiss him in a grotesque masquerade of her own cold comedown, denial dripping from her lips with a sticky sweetness disguised with L’Oreal Colour Riche Rich Brown. There were a thousand more like her, some here at home, others in Indianapolis, even more in Chicago. 

She was pretty for a cokehead, but not nearly as pretty as you. 

He spotted you through past the popcorn ceilings, under the fluorescent kitchen lights that were not particularly attractive for any given reason. You were the only girl here who didn’t know how he was. He had been stuck in the pipeline of town deviant to Indiana’s metal microcelebrity. His eyes locked on the kiss of your lashes as the aforementioned date dragged him through the density of other sweaty, coked-out bodies. You swung your legs back and forth as the scuffed rubber from the heels of your sneakers thudded against the hollow cabinet beneath you, rattling the pots behind it. 

She shrieks your name like a birdsong, and you whip around with wide eyes. She drags him along, pulling uncomfortably at his fingers. She bounces up and down in a way that she thinks is attractive, but to everyone else, the jingle of bangles and sequins and squealing is inherently annoying. 

You are not her friend. 

You had become acquainted with the girl before you in an entry-level introductory course for environmental design. It was offered as an elective across all majors but was also stupidly a requirement for all design-specific majors. And, even more unfortunately, the majority of the class was group work. This is how you met her. And she attached to you like a fungus— roots buried in branches that grasped your bones and made her impossible to remove without the inevitability of spawning again. She was a roach of a friend, not even nuclear warfare could rid you of her. But you were too nice to her, in fact, you were the only person that had given half a shit to include her. 

“Oh my God!” There’s a resonant tenor screech that reverberates off of the tile floors and pitches in your own ears so high that it could shatter any champagne flute within a ten mile radius. The guy— poor bastard– being dragged ruthlessly behind her like a content stray cat that had been claimed by a small child twitched an eye nearly shut at the pitchy shriek that plagues him as much as you. 

She explains how you met in an effortful, but drawn-out and utterly painful, story. It was a class. You were assigned a group project. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. 

But his hand was warm when it encased yours in an entirely professional handshake. You shook the thought from your head before it was even allowed to form. You desperately needed to kick the habit of falling in love with strangers in passing. You would not find the one at a party— at least not this one. 

It wasn’t long until she had gotten distracted, an old friend, as she had put it. There was no friend. Only powder on a mirror in the next room over. You questioned why she lied, because she wasn’t even discreet about it. 

“How can you be a nurse and do so much blow?” He asked, face twisted up in a sickening scowl. She had long forgotten about him and he tried his best to forget about her. 

“Girls like that usually are.” You deadpanned back, your face mirroring his own disgust. 

“Nursing majors?” He questioned, her major the only thing he could remember about her at this point. 

“Yeah. It’s the safest option. It keeps their parents happy while they put their financial aid up their noses.” You watched her try to discreetly gum some remnants off of the mirror sitting on the coffee table, pinkie finger dragging alongside the glass and disappearing behind her bottom lip. 

“I’ll bet she won’t finish off the semester.” You stated bluntly after a few seconds of spectating. 

“What about you?” He asked, in reference to your major. 

“Basket weaving. It’s really not much.” You didn’t want to come off as judgmental, or a prude. Especially not after admitting you were a design major. You cringed at how pretentious it sounded.  

“I like baskets.” He said, plopping himself down on the barstool across the island from you, toe thudding against the exterior to stop him from spinning too much. 

“Design.” You said, more of a mumble than a statement. You felt stupid. People usually thought you were stupid when you told them you dropped out of nursing school to be a design major. He didn’t need to know that part of you. After all, he was just some guy at a party and not the love of your life. 

“Of what nature?” He questioned, laying his head tiredly against his folded arm and looking up you you through thick lashes. 

“Of the graphic nature.” You were thoroughly surprised when he stuck around, head tilting to the side in curiosity — a stray curl bouncing from one side to the other. 

“What, like Chip Kidd?” Your head shot up. Sure, he was one of the hottest names in design this year, but who cared about design outside of designers? Next to no one. You forced yourself to play it cool. 

“More like a Stefan Sagmeister.” You grinned, bringing you knees to you chest and folding your arms over them. 

“You’re a Stones fan?” He questioned, brow cocked. 

“Who isn’t?“

“You’d be surprised.” 

“Well, surprise me, then.”

+

Eddie isn’t in college, but he knows a girl that frequents college parties.

This time it’s at some kickback in the woods, and this time it was to sell drugs— but seeing you was like a reward as you folded and contorted your own softness into comfort in the back compartment of his van, legs leaned against his side in search of warmth against the brisk nip of the reminiscence of winter. He draped his arm over your knees as he stood casually in wait, wondering how women could fold their bodies into strange statutes of comfort in only the ways they know how. 

You were good for business. Everyone and their mother seemed to know who you were. Probably because you were sweet. Especially to him. 

You’ve been casually sleeping with each other for a few weeks now, only when you can catch each other through hushed communal dorm phone-calls or whenever you come home for the weekend. No-strings attached, no commitment. But this outing sure felt like commitment, in the same way it felt like commitment when he held your hand earlier, and the same way it felt like commitment when he pressed his forehead against yours during your last entanglement. 

He leans over to you, alabaster skin of his neck stretching over bone and artery so he could whisper to you, 

“This is kind of lame. Let’s get out of here.”

You weren’t one to refuse him, especially not when he looked at you like that. 

“I’m not losing out on high school drama. I’m down.” You whisper back to him, pulling the end of an unruly curl just to watch it spring back up into place. 

While he’s watching the road, you’re memorizing the features of his face. If he could sparkle right now, he would be, even as the only light catching his face was from the too spaced-out street lamps. He drives in near-silence, whatever cassette buzzing hushedly over the radio but quiet enough that you could hear the vapid spinning of the tires and his occasional slow breath. 

You see the headstones before he has a chance to speak. 

“You’re gonna murder me.” You breathed out, joking mostly. 

“Yeah, right here, in the cemetery. Then I’m gonna bury you in a fresh grave.” He said to you, between eye rolls, getting out of the van to go pull the back doors open and straighten the woolen saddle blankets so you could sit. 

He pulls an acoustic guitar down from a makeshift bungee-cord rack fixed to the sidewall of the interior of the van, This Machine Slays Dragons crudely scrawled across the face to mimic Guthrie’s own. 

“I didn’t know that fascists breathed fire.” You said to him through a halfway-crooked sort of smile, pushing yourself up to lean against the sidewall of the van, facing him. You let one  leg swing back and forth, the rubber toe of your shoe tapping mindlessly against the seemingly useless tow hitch. 

“I knew you were more than just pretty.” He said, mouth turning up at the sides of his mouth. He was pretty, peering at you from beneath lashes before turning his attention back to the tuning knob. He strummed a calloused thumb across the tight string, listening to it upturn until he thought it sounded right.

It was a foreign ritual to you, his own prettiness being the catalyst for your own destruction before his vapid excuse at being a boyfriend ever could. . You watched silken curls slip over his shoulder and brush over the neck of his guitar. You watched as pretty deft fingers strummed a progression you would never understand. You desperately wished it was you, instead. 

It was like you were experiencing him through a macro lens, and it only made him more beautiful. His eyes came up to meet yours, dark and rich in the twilight that fell over you. You couldn’t have stared at him for more than a few seconds, but it was enough for your own giggles to bubble over. 

“Oh god.” You say through cupped hands, burying your face in your palms. You knew he was looking at you like you were crazy– all in good humor. 

“What?” He asked, unable to contain his own chuckle at this point. 

“You are literally the guy at the party that brings the guitar.” You managed through your bouts of giggles. 

“I don’t see much of a party here, sweetheart.” That smile curled again at his lips, this time with more teeth. You didn’t want to stare more, despite his fingers strumming the beginning cord of a song with all of the tenderness he could muster.

“Then who are you playing for? The ghosts?” You giggled again, looking around at the eeriness of the headstones. Had it been cooler, it would have been more off putting, but the swelling heat of summer that had settled over Indiana almost gave it some comfort. 

“You. Five regulars at The Hideout. Any ghost that wants to listen.” He laughed back, stopping his strumming to look back up at you. 

“Are you actually good?” You folded your knees upwards, turning yourself fully towards him. You rested your folded arms on top of them, pressing your chin against them to stare at him. 

“Would you just shut up and listen? I wrote a song about you.” It wasn’t hurtful, never was it hurtful. He said this towards you through pretty lips and even prettier winks. 

It wasn’t anything great. Three cords and two lines, but you wished you could record it and play it on a loop over and over again until your walkman caught fire. His voice wasn’t smooth, but it wrapped around you like a blanket, and, suddenly, it was your favorite sound. There was one thing you knew for certain, you wanted Eddie to sing to you every day for the rest of your life. 

“So you actually are good.” 

He rolled his eyes at you, casting the guitar aside as quickly as he had gotten it down. His lips met yours in a rapid staccato of haste kisses, first long, then followed by the plethora of short. You felt calloused fingers dig into the plush of your waist. 

It usually ended up like this. You’d laugh, you’d fall in love with him over and over and over again. You would have sex, and then it would be weeks. Weeks of trying to get your life back together and weeks of trying to remember yourself before him. But, God, when he kissed you over and over like that you would gladly break your heart for him. You wanted him to break it– if it meant that you could have him for this moment. 

“This technically is a party, you know?” You whispered a breathy giggle against his lips, peeling an eye open to peer at him. 

“What?” He asked, pulling back slightly. His lips were still glossy with the taste of you, but his eyes peered down at you in a way that made your stomach flip. You debated letting him take you in a cemetery. 

“Earlier, you said that you didn’t see much of a party. But we are here… at one, I mean?” Eddie looked around, eyebrow raised in utter confusion before clueing into what you had meant. 

“What with… them?” He asked you from behind the back of his hand, as if the bodies beneath you would be offended if they had heard. 

“Yeah. With all of the people buried here.” You stated, matter-of-factly. 

“I don’t think they’re much partying anymore.” Eddie explained to you, looking around the cemetery with raised eyebrows.

“Look… you know how the saying goes: one's company, two’s a crowd, and three’s a party? Well, this is a lot more than three. They don’t specify if they’re of the living disposition or not.” You argued back, trying your hardest to contain your own smile. 

“I’m saying no one here is having a good time.” He argued back in mock frustration, palms jutting out towards the headstones around you in confusion. 

“Besides us?” You asked him, with wide eyes. 

“Yes, besides us.” He said to you, reaching out to grip the opposite side of your waist and pull you into his side. 

“I can see it now. Here lies Edward— what’s your middle name?” 

“Not a chance.”

“Edward ‘Not a Chance’ Munson. He partied so hard he died.” You said, holding your hands out in a picturesque fashion. You couldn’t contain your own giggles. 

“Are you always a wise-ass?” He said, from behind a forward chuckle. 

“I don’t know, am I?” 

“Yes.” He looked down at you from beneath his shoulder, his eyes meeting your own endearingly. 

Eddie had a really bad habit of completely derailing your life with a single look. Once your eyes met the ambergris bourbon of his, you swore you could see the next ten years of your life. You swore you would ever be domesticated– at least not by any frat guy you met at a party. You hoped you were never domesticated. You hoped you never learned the subtlety of wifelyhood of motherhood. You never wanted to be reduced to that. But Eddie wasn’t in college, and Eddie could reduce you to that with one soft glance. 

“ –What about him?” You asked, averting your eyes from his. You would not let him derail your life again. Not tonight, at least. 

“Who?” He asked, genuine confusion registering across his once-soft features. 

“The guy buried there.” You specified. The headstone read a barely decipherable name, followed by 1902. 

“Was he a wise-ass?”

“No, stupid, how did he die? What kind of life did he live?” You said, bringing up your hand to deliver a soft slap to his chest. He wished you would do it again. 

“Tuberculosis.” You stated, bluntly, looking back down towards you with a smile. 

“Not everyone in 1902 died of tuberculosis.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, but a lot of them did.”

You figured he was right, your microbiology prerequisite failing to regurgitate within your brain. A silence settled over the back of the van, but it was comfortable. You allowed yourself the comfort of leaning your head against his chest, and rested his against your own. You tried to hear his heart from here, wondered if he had one at all. Surely he didn’t, if he could break your heart and put it back together all over again. Part of you hoped he did, and an even bigger part of you hoped that you had a place in it somewhere. You wouldn’t allow yourself to dwell on that fact for long. 

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked, barely above a whisper. Yet, breaking the silence felt like breaking glass. Had you been talking too much?

“Yeah?” He asked, in an equally quiet tone. You wonder if he felt it, too. 

“Why here?” You asked, without needing to elaborate further. 

He thinks about it, silent for a second, and then breaks the glass again. 

“I feel more like a ghost than anything– makes me feel less alone.” He says, finally. He refuses to let his eyes meet yours. It made sense. 

Some of the girls you went to school with still talked about it. Still talked about their friend, Chrissy. You understood that he had been a key suspect in a high-profile murder case. 

Well, as high-profile as Hawkins, Indiana, population: 2000, could get. 

They had found their suspect— apparent suicide. It happened all of the time. Kids try drugs, and drugs end badly. You had seen it before, and you’d see it again. It wasn’t Eddie, nor was it his Uncle– the man with the kind eyes and the gruff exterior that sometimes waved at you from outside Eddie’s van. You tried not to wonder if he thought you were a skank. You should introduce yourself, sometime.

A lot of people forgot about it after the Earthquake, their own lives crumbling enough to where they didn’t have to speculate the downfall of someone else. 

It made sense why he would think that. The same as the ghost that inhabited the loft above The Hideout where he played. 

It must have been exhausting having someone vilify and formulate your existence all the time.  

You decided not to pry. Instead, you read the headstones in front of you, children, the elderly. You focused on one elongated headstone fixated into the ground in front of you. William and Helen Lester. Born in 1910 and 1912, respectively. Died the same year as each other, 

“What about them?” You asked him.

“They were madly in love, they reserved their plots together before they died so when one joined the other they could take comfort in knowing that they would stay together.” He answered, without hesitation. You wondered if he knew them personally. 

“Do you believe that they did?” You asked, instead. 

“Stay together?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess that depends on what they believed.” He shrugged, rubbing his hand up and down your shoulder a little bit. 

“Well, what do you believe?” 

He lets out a long sigh, more joking then not.

“Well, way back when my uncle first got custody of me, he thought it would be a good idea to start taking me to church. Save me before it was too late… or whatever.” He raked his hands through his hair, sitting up a little to look at you before continuing, 

“ -Wayne wasn’t much of a church guy, either, but the nice lady that lived next door to us was, so we started going to church with her. They told us that if we did everything we were supposed to do… tried to live by the book, and that we found our person, that it would be an eternal binding after marriage, or something like that.”

“Do you really believe that?” You questioned. 

“If there’s anything from my churchgoing days that I hoped would be real, I hope it’s that.” He sighed, pulling his arm off of you to lean back . 

“Why?”

“I don’t think I could ever stand to be alone like that again.” He shrugged, and you knew you had struck a nerve. 

“Well, what about us?” You questioned. 

“What about it?” 

“Do you think we’ll stay together?”

“We’re not really even together.” 

It was then that you realized that maybe he did have a heart, but you didn’t have a home within it. There was one thing for certain, however, and that was that he had made himself a home in yours like a fungus. It was then that the introductory biology courses you could never remember remained heavy on your brain. 

Mycelium

Mycelium are incredibly tiny threads of the greater fungal organism that wrap around or bore into tree roots. Taken together, mycelium composes what's called a “mycorrhizal network,” which connects individual plants together to transfer water, nitrogen, carbon and other minerals—

Eddie was a fungus in dormancy. He had a mycelial network, and its threads had wrapped and wound their ways through the finest intimacies of your life. Their hairline structure filled their place between any gaps you weren’t careful enough to seal. Even when he wasn’t in your life, he was there. 

You can’t be heartbroken over him if you never had him. 

You know he is talking. You know he continued with a backstory in some form or another. Your guess would be something about spending every waking moment alone after the incident. How no one’s mothers who were kind enough to give him the benefit of the doubt in the first place would no longer let their children— his friends, around him. Something about how he wouldn’t blame them. 

“Hey, are you okay? You went all silent on me there.” He finally asked, tugging on a strand of your hair, playfully. You felt like crying, but you wouldn’t. Not until he was gone. 

“Yeah, just tired I guess.”

Tired of getting attached, tired of derailing your entire life for him. 

“Oh. I guess I should probably get you home, then.” He said, beginning to slide out of the van. 

You were thankful he didn’t pry, but a part of you wished that he would. You had him for weeks, it was commitment-adjacent at the very least. It felt like you had him tonight, and it felt like you had him in all of your spare time. It also felt like you had him in class, doodling his funny little devil horns all over your notes. It was the subtlety of this heartbreak that was the worst– or maybe the fact that it wasn’t really heartbreak in the first place. 

You still let him sleep in your bed. 

+

Robin is a textbook lesbian, which also makes her the best wingman on the face of planet earth. She assessed the situation over a pre-roll, as someone who was both a woman and someone who pleasured women. 

Steve isn’t a frat boy, but his relentless good looks and halfway dumb demeanor are wasted on that fact. He assessed the situation as such. 

Eddie swore they both only hung out with him for the pot. 

It had been weeks since your last call, in which you had mentioned something about a final or something before the line went dead. Maybe you were actually dead. Killed in some freak accident that the news didn’t even know how to cover so they just… didn’t. Eddie’s dignity thought it would be preferable if you were. 

“ — Boys are stupid. Hence why I date women.” Robin stated bluntly from Steve’s bedroom floor, between clumsy, fumbling lighter flicks. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, did he have to do everything? He plucked the lighter from her hands, lighting the pre-roll in one swift motion before looking back at her. 

“Some of us aren’t as lucky.” Eddie said, throwing his body back against the side of Steve’s bed, causing Robin to bounce alongside him. 

“To be of the homosexual disposition?” Robin questioned, turning to face him. 

“To understand women.”

“Again, you don’t need to understand them, You’re just stupid.” She waved her hand, dismissively. 

“God, I know I’m stupid, please just help me.” He said to her, dragging his hands down his face with a vigor. 

“Okay, run the cemetery scenario by me again. Word. For. Word.” She said back, joint tucked between her pointer finger and thumb, elbow rested atop the comforter. 

“Okay—”

Eddie can remember everything about that night. He remembered what you were wearing. He remembered seeing the smattering of new freckles across your shoulder as it peeked out from under your summer sweater– a reminder that the heat of summer was quickly settling over you. He remembered the rhythm that the rubber toe of your sneaker tapped out as he strummed against his guitar. He remembered how you knew Gutherie and batted your eyes at him in that pretty— so fucking pretty– way and how you batted your lashes at him when you asked too many questions that he was suddenly inclined to answer. 

Eddie remembered what he said. 

“And then I said, ‘well, we aren’t really even together-”

“There!” Robin shouted finally, hands splayed out, smoke continuing to roll from between her fingers, 

“What?!” Eddie jumped, running his hands from the crown of his head and down his t-shirt, in search of whatever bug Robin had screamed at him about. 

“That’s where you fucked up!” She clarified. 

“ — really fucked up.” Steve chimed in from his desk chair, sunglasses slipping low on his nose despite the approaching twilight, using the toe of his sneaker as traction in order to spin himself in half-circles from his corner. 

“How?” Eddie asked, raking his fingers through his hair and giving his roots a soft tug. 

“You totally took everything you had with her and threw it right in the dumpster.” Robin continued, fully ignoring him. 

“ — and lit it on fire!” Steve chimed over his shoulder, chair spun backwards towards the wall. 

“Shut up, Steve.”

“Just saying…”

“Anyways, you implied that you didn’t want a relationship with her.” Robin said, finally softening a bit. 

“No, I wanted her to say something like, ‘Well, then can we be?’”  He explained back to her, almost on the verge of tears. 

“That’s the problem, dingus.” She rolled her eyes, delivering a soft smack to the side of his head. 

“Ugh,” Eddie muffled out loudly from behind his palms. 

To him, you were pretty, and smart, and entirely too good for him. You were right for ghosting him, he would never blame you for that. You had all the reason in the world to hate him and you still didn’t— until he gave you one. 

 To you, he was just a boy– one who harbored too much heartbreak that makes him meaner than he anticipates. Eddie wasn’t mean by nature, but right now, he sure felt like it.

He pulls his temples back with the heels of his hands, “She’s just so smart and she has to think I’m the dumbest human being on planet Earth.”

“You are the dumbest human being on planet Earth.” She snuffed out the roach into the ashtray, twirling around for slightly too long. 

“Gee, thanks.”

“But not for that reason.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, turning to face Eddie, “You’re stupid because you expected her to read your mind. You had the upper hand. She was prompting the love confession from you and you probably shattered her heart into a million tiny pieces.”

“Can I even fix this?”

“I’m a wingman, not a miracle worker, dude.”

“Steve? Anything to chime in?”

“You fucked up.” 

“No shit.” 

+

Eddie isn’t in college, instead he plays guitar. 

In the midst of his own suffering, he still has to perform. He isn’t one to pass up the money or the attention— especially since they’re crowds now exceeded into the double digits. They had graduated from the Tuesday-night noisemakers, to the Friday-night headliner, a few people even making their way over to bar-crawl from the next town over. 

Eddie leaned his weight on the speaker, tuning and strumming in a half-assed, absent-minded routine. There was a decent group tonight, people grouped standing in the back once the tables and bartop had been promptly filled. 

Jeff approached him, bass slung heavy over him, “Don’t look now, but I think you might know someone here.” He peered at you over his shoulder. 

Eddie looks anyway, met with your eyes. 

You looked pretty tonight. You looked pretty always. 

You had your toes propped against the bottom rung of the barstool, knees pulled tight together, and a drink in hand. He didn’t recognize the people you were with, but he didn’t know very many people anyway. Not like you did. You were likable, and he liked you a lot. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting you to look like after a month, but he was stupid thinking you’d look dramatically different. You were still soft— still glowed even in this not-particularly-flattering light. You looked happy and he hated it. He hated that you could smile at a time like this. It was selfish, he knew it. He wanted you to be a wreck over him. He wanted the comfort in knowing that you were the same mess that he was in over you. 

Jeff gives him a nudge to say something into the mic once they got the go-ahead to play. He tells Jeff he can do it tonight. The tether that binds you together is made of water— the softest vibration would break the surface tension and it would splash on to the concrete. He wanted to watch you be pretty for just a few more seconds, even if it meant giving up his ego for tonight. He wanted to remain unseen on stage, but the pinch harmonic of his opening riff sent your head snapping towards him. 

Your look made him want to crawl beneath the floorboards. 

Your acquaintance, a girl that was a friend-of-a-roommate who had invited you out, placed a hand on your shoulder, warm and too-friendly,  “This band is really good!”

“I know!” You shouted over the music, too warm already. Maybe it was the bottom-shelf peach schnapps. It was most likely the bottom-shelf peach schnapps. 

“Oh, you’ve seen them before?” She asked, pulling her chair up closer to yours. 

“Something like that!” You had explained, pulling the strap of your purse from your neck where it dug in too harshly. 

You felt underdressed for the occasion. Despite definitely having people to impress, you didn’t feel the need. But now, with Eddie’s eyes that you tried desperately to avert yourself from, you’d felt your skin in a way that you never had before. Maybe you were drunk. 

You were most definitely drunk, enough so that it was teetering off the edge of pleasant and dipping into the waters of uncomfortable. The music was too loud and there were too many people and your purse strap kept digging into the crevice of your neck in a way that was both painful and overstimulating. 

You couldn’t remember how many songs Eddie’s band had played– fuck— you couldn’t remember what they were called. Had been playing for a while, enough for the lines between songs started to blur and it felt like forty-five minutes of continuous time signature. You couldn’t decipher a lot between the hum of the nearly-blown speaker anyways. 

Eddie’s eyes met yours, shiny beneath the bar stage lights. He looked angry. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the genre of his song or because of you. He isn’t insatiable or anything, and he had hoped to God that you were still paying attention. By the look on your face and the way you craned your neck to look at the girl next to you, you hadn’t been for a while now. Your nonchalance had poured the gasoline, your smile lit him ablaze. 

The next line of the song was about you, an ode to the women he’d loved before– which weren’t many– conveniently placed as the last song of the setlist. He wrote it with the fantasy that you would stroll through the doors and hear it, but now that you were here, he didn’t know if he had the heart to be mean to you. He didn’t want to be mean to you. It was vaguely written enough so that the other girls that looked up towards him would think it was about them, a heartbreak anthem, a sorry anthem. An ode to the cemetery and the ghost that he had become without you. 

You understood it, though you chose not to act like you had. You didn’t think you had been in his life for long enough to warrant a song– at least one with more than three cords and fifteen seconds of play-time. Why would he? You were never even together. Your ears rang with the remnants of sound, yet you watched your party— the greek bar-crawlers, get ready to head to the next location down the block. You couldn’t even remember what bar it was. 

The girl next to you– fuck— you couldn’t remember her name either, was leveling with your tipsiness. Maybe she hadn’t teetered over the edge of drunk like you had. You let her take your hand anyways, pushing through the double doors in your party of eight. 

The familiarity of the van backed in front of the entrance haunted you, like it had brought a ghost back with it from the cemetery. Maybe Eddie was the ghost. Maybe he was haunting you. Maybe you were haunting yourself. 

The party discussed some form of game plan. You thought it was stupid, hockey practice was over. Yet they were drunk, and they were rowdy, and they were a spectacle. Suddenly and all at once, unfamiliar lips were on yours, violent and sloppy. You tasted cherry, sticky against your own peppermint chapstick. Soft feminine hands gripped your jaw, pretty tuberose and jasmine on the girl from earlier filled your nostrils in a way that was not quite suffocating, but all encapsulating. It was an Estee Lauder Eau de Parfum. You recognized it from the yellow bottle you had gotten for your fifteenth birthday. 

Kissing a woman was a different ballpark, kissing a woman drunk was an entirely different sport. She was softer, less volatile. She had a languid softness to her waist where men were typically more solid. Her hands were more graceful. You relinquished it, both in the spectacle of the others in the group and the fact that she was what Eddie wasn’t.

From behind the van, Eddie watched you. The floral passion in which you sloppily tangled your manicured hand into the blonde mass of the girl in front of you. Isn’t it unfair? He desperately wished it was him. Wanted to be the reason for the surrounding wolf calls. Eddie wasn’t particularly introspective, but he was dying to be her. A notch in your bedpost, a one night stand, a lover. 

Eddie wanted to be her. 

+

Eddie isn’t in college, and it's mostly because he’s stupid. 

Robin let him know it, too. 

There is an afterparty, or, at least, the loose adjacent to one. The band, some friends of the band, and communal alcohol strung loosely across the island at Gareth and Jeff’s condo. Donated pot courtesy of a combined effort of Rick and Eddie. He didn’t feel like partying, but he did feel like getting really, really drunk. Lecture be damned. 

MD 20/20 Red Grape Fortified Wine tasted a little like alcohol and a lot like feeling sorry for himself. 

The grave was already dug, all he had to do was sit in it and wait for someone to backfill. 

Robin stood, arms braced against the island across from Eddie. The fluorescents in Gareth’s unrenovated kitchen burned his eyes, “I can’t help you if you don’t want it.”

“I don’t want it,” He specified, pulling a long drink from the glass bottle, “ –but I have a feeling I’m gonna get it anyways.” 

“I thought you wanted her back, dude.” The fluorescent lights casted a downwards glow across her forehead. Eddie thought it gave her a Kubrick stare. 

“I don’t know what I want, I thought I did but then I got up there and I sang about her and she didn’t even care.”

In one swift motion, she hopped onto the counter, crossing her legs beneath her, “Well, obviously you care.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“If you don’t care about her then why do you lose your shit every time you see her?”

“Because, Robin, who the fuck else is gonna love me after all of the shit we’ve been though?” He slammed the bottle down on the table. It was enough to rattle the cabinets beneath it, “She was the one good thing that’s happened to me in a long fucking time and I couldn’t even let myself be just content with that.” 

He’s angry, suddenly. With himself, with the universe. The alcohol didn’t help. The feigning headache was more annoying than it was painful. Robin wanted to roll her eyes, to call him stupid and dramatic– but she figured he knew it already. It’s not like he wasn’t warranted in his anger, he was, but she wondered why he had been so pent-up lately. Maybe it’s because there was no Eddie way for Eddie to deal with this. After a bleating silence, she spoke:

“Have you even talked to her yet?” She asked.

“No, and I’m not planning on it.” 

“Why not?”

“Because, dude,” Eddie played himself out across the tile island, trying to ignore the way his t-shirt just mopped up the sticky sweet liquid on the counter, “ – you know why.”

Robin did know why. 

“And?” She asked. 

“They were all over each other, like, like…” He was getting frustrated now, unable to string words together in a cohesive sentence. 

Robin finished for him, “Like you were?”

“Yeah. Like she didn’t even care.” He leaned his head down on his folded arms, 

“Maybe she wanted you to think that.” Robin asked him. She thought she sounded more like his mother than a lesbian wingman. This is what he needed. “Maybe she wanted you to chase her.”

“I don’t understand why.” He groaned, “She’s unpredictable. And pretty. And smart. And fun. And everyone likes her. Do you know how many friends she has? How many people like her?”

“Because maybe you’re not as bad as you think you are.”

And he isn’t. Eddie isn’t inherently bad– albeit a little bit dumb. Maybe that just came with age, or the nature of him. Actually, behind the external composite disposition and his defensive nature, Eddie was the opposite of bad.

That first ‘surprise me’ reverberated in his mind like a crescendo. He was feeling brave that night. It was all ego, and most likely a touch of golden whiskey courage. He could still taste it on the back of his tongue when his mouth met yours in a clumsy, quick, spur-of-the-moment kiss. He didn’t have time to be insecure about it, the afterthoughts of gum or mints being pulled from his mind by your fingers as they combed through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. As he moved down to press pillowy-soft kisses in the soft of your throat, he took in your scent– like the citrus groves just outside of town in the spring, when the little white flowers covered the expanse of the rich green rows. 

It was fast and sweet, his hands pushing your summer cotton t-shirt up your waist with warm, rough hands– encasing the ribs where they curl to meet with your spine in a vice. You were eager, not that you were easy– you almost didn’t care if he thought of you that way– in the way you slid his vest off of him. He threw his arms back quickly, shaking it loose from his wrists as he came back up to meet you. The chain of his bracelet was cold against the plush of your stomach as he dragged it down towards the button of your denim shorts. 

“We don’t have to do this now,” He separated from you in hesitation, “I can take us back to my place, use my be—”

“No, ‘need you now.” You insisted, your kiss more pressing than before. You clung to him fervently. 

You aren’t confined to your softness. You are vocal, grip on his shoulders and his heart like a vice. You were soft in the right places though, in your waist and beneath his hands coming undone, soft in the way you spoke to him behind closed van doors. Pillows over sharp corners, a guard to balance your too-loud laugh or the frequency in which you found yourself too drunk. 

You were stone-cold sober that night, and he thanked whoever was up there looking out for him that you were. You wouldn’t have been here, otherwise. 

You were a painting, and not one of those stupid ones that he had to talk about in history class. Like a real, in-your-face, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. Not quite like a centerfold, better than anything he’d counted pennies for at the drugstore, ethereal beyond words. Soft for him and only him, bumps and curves and dips and folds in places you didn’t see in those. Real, right in front of him. His for the taking. 

The night had turned already to that imperceptible pivot where midnight turned to early morning hours. This moment has come and gone, yet you are not yet willing to concede that you have crossed the line beyond which is all gratuitous damage and the play of unraveled nerve endings. 

He plunged his middle and marriage fingers within you with a vapid expanse for pleasure, reaching in deep and curling upwards, gathering slick between fingers and back out again. You could feel every ridge within yourself, your softness pulling him back in once he had pulled out again. 

You allow him, no, encourage him to line himself up within you, and you are warm. Warmer than anything he has ever felt in his life. Tight like a hug. The flavor is vaguely tribal– pendulous guitar-pick necklaces and ritualistic moans of endearance. A gathering drum of heartbeats and a bonfire lit within your core. 

His chest is hard above you, expanding with deep breath and soft cries– the softest cries you had ever heard from a man in your existence. There is a small patch of hair in the center, that follows down his navel in a thin line. You tried to hold it together, but you loved it so much. You could love him, not like the novelty it was right now. Like, really love him. 

If he could tell you he loved you without scaring you away, he would have. Now, he wished he just did. 

Clumsily, almost enough for you to tell he was still new to this, whether the van or women in general, he thrust into you, chasing his own rhythm while still finding your own high. His wrists radiate heat where they brace him on either side of your head, caging you between them. 

“Fuck– I– I,” he begins, looking for his thoughts.

You look up at him through low, sultry eyes. Your own release nearing in moments. “Together.” was what you could manage. 

He cringed looking back, he probably looked like such a virgin. He had been so previously wound with the Pam Anderson wanna-be and the post-show adrenaline that his release was feigning. He took comfort in knowing that you would later find out that he is not that inexperienced. 

It was the after that he remembered. How your little manicured finger traced over the raised ink of the tattoo, now disfigured by the purple fibers of scarring. 

“They’re from the accident.” He explained to you, knowing you were wondering. Everyone wondered. You had been too afraid to ask. 

“The earthquake?” You specified, looking up at him. 

You watched the way his stomach flexed as he pushed himself up, taking your body with him, “Yeah, sorry they’re not pretty.” He sighed, holding out his arms to look at the ones there. 

“You are pretty.” You reiterated, and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re prettier.” 

“You wanna see mine?” 

“Your what?”

“Scars.” 

You were going to show him anyway. 

That patch where the hair grew wonky across your eyebrow from where you had fallen as a child. You cracked your eye socket and they had to reconstruct the tendons in your eyelid. 27 stitches including the internal ones. He laughed at how you claimed it like a trophy. 

The small white line on the side of your knee you got trying to pet a feral cat. You wanted to be it’s friend so bad and it didn’t return the sentiment. 

The blown out tattoo on your ankle, done by your friend who worked at the cafe with you. It was the second one she had ever done on another living person. Your mom had flipped when you came home from college that first weekend with it. If you weren’t too old to ground, she would have done it. 

Your stretch marks, in which you didn’t dwell too much on. They started happening the summer you turned thirteen and you remembered the palsy of lotions and topical ointments your mom made you smear over the expanse of your body in order to reverse them when you we’re too young to recognize that there were nothing wrong with them. The scars they left on your psyche. 

The ones on your hands and knuckles, burns from your barista days. He remembered your giggle as he pressed soft kisses to every burn scar. 

Eddie was not bad. 

+

Eddie isn’t in college, but, for you, he’d at least brave the college housing. 

This was also not Robin’s plan, instead devised by Steve while he was crossed— and at his most authentic self. Despite her best efforts, they persisted. You roomed in a smaller house with several other girls in Indianapolis— a three hour drive as the crow flies. All in their girlish forms, all soft skin and little shorts and effortless beauty. Sometimes you wondered if you looked the same way- or if they even knew what they looked like. 

All of whom were gathered out the window, ogling at a relic unknown to you. 

A familiar face, the hometown heartbreaker, Steve Harrington himself stood in your freshly mowed grass, boombox held over his head like an idiot. Slovenly waving at the girls through the window. You sighed, palming your face tiredly. You knew who he would have in tow. He is a shadow of either Eddie’s best self of his worst self, you couldn’t tell which quite yet. You are awed by his strict refusal to acknowledge any goal higher than the pursuit of his own pleasure, haphazardly balancing the expensive boombox blasting Head Over Heels on a loud, obnoxious loop. You wouldn’t have been more annoyed if Roland Orzabal was here playing the song himself. Robin stood at the entrance of the small white picket fence, face in hands. 

When you meet with the man that has not quite et. cetere’d you, you are slumming the door open, visiting your own 7:00 A.M Lower East Side with your soul on a lark. He is stepping nimbly around gardenia pots and little happy concrete garden gnomes as if they will bite his ankles if he gets too close– if only you’d trained them sooner. More un-nimbly, he trips up the stairs, and you’ve caught him red handed. He stands there wide-eyed and apologetic, a dog kicked. You lean against the frame, nonchalant, unimpressed, arms crossed. 

“Ew. You like Tears for Fears?” You speak before he can. He seems taken aback. 

“I should have played The Cure.” He speaks truthfully, rubbing the skin on the back of his neck where an itch did not occur. 

“That was my second choice!” Steve called from the one-man show happening on your lawn. You feared if it went on for longer, it would turn to a strip-club.

“Shut up, Steve.” Eddie barked towards him. 

The tension feels like being at the bottom of a swimming pool. Eddie’s drowning in the deep end but the bowl’s empty. He drained it himself. He doesn’t know quite what to say to you. He didn’t think it would get this far. 

“Come on, please just hear me out–” He starts, yet it’s overused. You decided then to drown him in the pool yourself. The door closes in his face. 

Almost immediately, the knocking persists. Your roommates watch from beside the door, half still fixated on Steve, the others watching you ascend the stairs towards your bedroom. You choked down your embarrassment, suffocated in it. You needed to be alone. 

“Ladies.” Steve nods from the front lawn, watching his friend scale the old lattice attached to the stucco on the front of your house. 

“Ladies.” Robin parrots, coming to watch with a hand shielding her eyes from the sun. 

There is a commotion down the stairs, a door opening and footsteps quick. You don’t get the chance to look because there is a body, an apparition of scarecrow limbs and embarrassment parallel with your second-story window. You might be mad, but you definitely aren’t heartless. 

This isn’t what he expected your room to look like. In his wet dreams, he pictured more pink. More coquette lace abundance and stuffed animals. Save for the raggedy menstrual bean-bag bear, it’s relatively neutral. In hindsight, every girl’s room is pink coquette in a wet dream. This felt more like you, the twinkle lights, stacks of old books holding plants, moroccan-patterned pillows lining the daybed. Plush, white bedding. It’s natural, like you. 

Your glare is like a mother’s reproach. He doesn’t know how to react. He didn’t have a mother. Only Wayne and only teachers, the latter of which he had a certain amount of push before they let him do whatever he wanted. You, he could not push further. 

“Please don’t kick me out,” He begs, hands together like a prayer. It’s cheesy, you avoid laughing. 

“I’m waiting.��� You say. It’s rude. You sound like a bitch. He thinks you’re warranted. You try not to think of the ears against your bedroom door. 

“I love you.” He said it like a plea instead of a declaration. It was the first and only thing that came to his mind. 

Of course he did.

You rolled your eyes at him, folding your arms and jutting your hip, “You don’t love me.” You corrected, “You just think you do now that you’re lonely.” 

He takes a few more pacing steps towards you, frantic and panicking “Jesus Christ– Yes, I do. I could’ve slipped and broke my neck trying to climb up here for you.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you to climb up here,” You placed your hand over your chest, then turned your finger towards him, “You don’t love me, you love this version of me that thought Tears for Fears would work.”

He stared at you with wide eyes, pleading and sad. 

“ —For once in your life think, idiot. What song would I have really liked?” 

“I– I don’t know.” He said. It came out like a whimper. He was more broken now, softer, yet still desperate. 

“Exactly. You don’t love me.”

“You know what? You’re right.” He stood, closing the gap between your bodies in a few strides. He wanted to touch you, but was too afraid to ask, “I don’t love you.“ 

“I hate all of your stupid questions.” He started, and you didn’t speak, “I hate how all of my clientele comes from you now. I hate that I only get you when you’re home for the weekend. I hate that stupid little scar on your eyebrow. I hate the way your hair gets in your mouth when you laugh. I hate that dumb little scar on your forehead. I hate that you’re so goddamn perfect for me and I hate myself for letting you walk away like that.” He finished, breath heaving. 

You felt the tears pull at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t warrant them to spill. 

“I hate that you’re a grown man with fucking bangs.” You said, unable to finish. You felt stupid, two stupid little tears slipping from your eyes and streaking down your face.

He opened his arms to you, prompting, and you took it. Part of it so he couldn’t see you crying, the second part of you desperately needing to feel him. 

“I’m so mean.” You wailed into his chest. You felt the rumble of the laugh he couldn’t suppress. 

“I know, so mean.” He said, not as an insult or an agreement, but in endearment. He pressed a sympathy kiss to your crown. His hand was warm as it pulled up the expanse of your back. 

“I’m sorry.” You pulled away, wiping your face furiously with the heels of your palms. 

“No- no. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to get caught up in my hot and cold like that.”

Your feverance prevails, “I should have asked what happened.”

“I should have asked you out.” He counteracts, pulling back to smooth down the wiry hairs at your crown, his hand heavy against your skull. 

“Can you do it now?” You plead, and he laughs. 

“Will you stop crying?”

“Yeah.” 

He pulls away from you for a second, you want to whine at the loss of contact. He crouches down on one knee, keeping your hands squeezed tightly in his calloused palms. 

“Then will you do me the tremendous honor of being my girl?” He runs his hand up the back of yours, trying to feel for an electric pulse of an answer. The seconds that you take nearly kill him. 

You stare down at him, eyes still red and puffy, but wide, “And not just like at parties?” 

“No, like the full weekday thing.” His smile is warm. You take great comfort in it. 

“Yeah.”

You think you look stupid, crying in your bedroom while he holds you like this. But he burns this memory in his mind. Even when you’re crying, you’re still the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

[ssseriema]

Y’know what, I’m curious… what do pet roaches look like? Cuz depending on their ability to accelerate in my direction and if they make noise, I might not fear them

im no roach expert so i dont know which one is the quietest roach. the most popular roach in the hobby is the giant madagascar hissing roach, which uhmmm famously does a hissing noise (males more often than females), but as far as roaches go these guys are big and somewhat slower, so surprisingly easy to handle

if youre wondering what a pet roach looks like, this is a great introductory vid ^_^

[jordanincambodia]

Baptized! Huzzah!

Happy October! Cue the creepy decorations in stores and wacko decorations in the U.S. Thankfully in Cambodia, most Halloween celebrations are found in the form of 1) movies in theatres, which are avoidable, and 2) very cheap decorations in stores like tiny pipe cleaner spiders or plastic pumpkins. My cat likes to drop live roaches on my face at night once or twice a week, so I can't feel fear anymore, except for the time I was drinking tea at a hang bay (street restaurant with a tarp for a roof) and noticed bugs swimming in the cup after I had almost finished it. I felt real fear at that point. Great start to our September overview, eh?

Here's one of the slides that I made for our WASH (Water Sanitary Hygiene) team's introductory presentation to be used for meeting new villages, possible donors, and industrial partners. I've really enjoyed being a part of the WASH team as we do research and meet new people that have contacts to NGOs and villages. Just yesterday I actually presented to a local business and explained what EMI does, how we do it, and why we do it (for Christ Jesus, of course). I would appreciate prayer as our team will soon be visiting villages to meet community leaders and discuss community needs and goals- that God would guide us in His wisdom and show the villagers that we are intentional, caring, and have a sustainable solution.

Also, I got BAPTIZED!! I finally made the decision to obey Jesus' command and went through a whole weekend event at church that involved classes on fundamental Christian beliefs, the church, and being baptized in a pool of water 1.5 feet deep with my knees sticking out of the water (we were trying to fill the pool for several hours, it's the best we could do). Church has been an incredible experience for me here as I have been able to get involved with serving as usher, with kids ministry (picture above), and made lots of new friends. The amount of energy in this church is huge, due to its charismatic nature and average age of around 22. Many of the involved church members spend 3-4 weekdays on university campuses and very often bring someone new to church on Sunday! I have been connected to a young man that is hoping to learn English (and also has many questions about Christianity) by meeting with me weekly. It works out for me too so I can both practice my Khmer and share the gospel with him. The Lord is at work.

Above is the EMI lunch table. There's a cafe at the top of our office building that everyone eats at on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. On other days I like to walk and buy fried chicken from a street stand or go to a hang bay (rice shop) to get a quick rice plate. After lunch, we usually go back to the office to sing worship songs and relax until break is over.

To recap, September has been quite the month. Working on exciting WASH projects with EMI, spending every Sunday with church people from 8 am to 9 pm, and working out at the gym 3ish times a week... did I mention that I bike to work every other day now? I am quite the busy boy. I would appreciate prayer that:

the Lord would point the people around me to Christ through my words and actions,

I would continue to learn and grow in all aspects,

I would maintain a good balance of lifestyle between work and rest.

Thank you for reading this update! Stay tuned to see my month of October and to see if I am still going to the gym. There may even be a picture or two from an exciting adventure coming up.

Jord

[instantebookmart]

Roach’s Introductory Clinical Pharmacology 11th Edition by Susan M. Ford, ISBN-13: 978-1496343567 [PDF eBook eTextbook] Publisher: ‎ LWW; 11th edition (October 11, 2017) Language: ‎ English 736 pages ISBN-10: ‎ 1496343565 ISBN-13: ‎ 978-1496343567 Prepare your students for successful practice and NCLEX-PN success with this updated 11th Edition of Roach’s Introductory Clinical Pharmacology. Developed by nurses for nurses, this practice-oriented text not only helps students learn about drugs and their effect on real people, but also models how to relay this information to patients. Known for its impeccably accurate drug content, this bestseller focuses on basic principles and the nurse’s responsibility in medication management. The book’s easy-to-understand writing style combines with empowering online resources, including videos, NCLEX-PN-style review questions, and drug monographs, to help students hone their critical thinking and problem-solving skills as they master one of the most challenging content areas in the curriculum. KEY FEATURES NEW! Unique Concept Mapping introduced in Chapter 5, Patient Education help students both process and visualize important concepts. NEW! A List of Abbreviations is now on the inside back cover for easy reference. NEW! Concept Mastery Alerts highlight and clarify commonly misunderstood concepts. Pharmacology in Practice Case Studies focus on assessment, administration, or teaching issues that affect real-life patients and are revisited in the Think Critically questions which ask students to explore options and make clinical judgments related to the administration of drugs. The Nursing Process framework presents care of the patient as it relates to the drug and drug regimen, as well as Checklists of Relevant Nursing Diagnoses. Patient Case Study scenarios threaded through each chapter offer a “simulation-focus” to help students get a sense of real world nursing. Nursing Alerts quickly identify urgent nursing actions that may be required when managing a patient receiving a specific drug or drug category through. Drug Interaction Tables provide at-a-glance information about the likelihood of a patient problem when multiple drugs are given. Summary Drug Tables list drugs from the classes discussed in each chapter, including names, uses, frequent adverse reactions, and general dosing information. Lifespan Considerations boxes meet the needs of specific populations at risk or needing specific drug administration considerations through practical. Herbal Considerations boxes provide information on herbs and complementary and alternative remedies. Chronic Care Considerations prepare for situations that may arise during drug therapy for patients with chronic illnesses, such as diabetes, hypertension, or epilepsy, including issues of polypharmacy through. Know Your Drugs (matching questions), Calculate Medication Dosages (dosage calculation questions), and Prepare for NCLEX-PN (NCLEX-style questions), appear at the end of each drug chapter. Learning Objectives, Key Terms, and Drug Class lists identify potential errors and safety concerns to help students focus their reading and enhance their mastery of course concepts. An updated Appendix H (NCLEX-PN test plan) addresses he latest test plan, as well as the concept-based curricula through additional definitions and links to content items in the text that correspond to concept-based teaching strategies What makes us different? • Instant Download • Always Competitive Pricing • 100% Privacy • FREE Sample Available • 24-7 LIVE Customer Support

[eduebookstore]

Roach’s Introductory Clinical Pharmacology 11th Edition by Susan M. Ford, ISBN-13: 978-1496343567 [PDF eBook eTextbook] Publisher: ‎ LWW; 11th edition (October 11, 2017) Language: ‎ English 736 pages ISBN-10: ‎ 1496343565 ISBN-13: ‎ 978-1496343567 Prepare your students for successful practice and NCLEX-PN success with this updated 11th Edition of Roach’s Introductory Clinical Pharmacology. Developed by nurses for nurses, this practice-oriented text not only helps students learn about drugs and their effect on real people, but also models how to relay this information to patients. Known for its impeccably accurate drug content, this bestseller focuses on basic principles and the nurse’s responsibility in medication management. The book’s easy-to-understand writing style combines with empowering online resources, including videos, NCLEX-PN-style review questions, and drug monographs, to help students hone their critical thinking and problem-solving skills as they master one of the most challenging content areas in the curriculum. KEY FEATURES NEW! Unique Concept Mapping introduced in Chapter 5, Patient Education help students both process and visualize important concepts. NEW! A List of Abbreviations is now on the inside back cover for easy reference. NEW! Concept Mastery Alerts highlight and clarify commonly misunderstood concepts. Pharmacology in Practice Case Studies focus on assessment, administration, or teaching issues that affect real-life patients and are revisited in the Think Critically questions which ask students to explore options and make clinical judgments related to the administration of drugs. The Nursing Process framework presents care of the patient as it relates to the drug and drug regimen, as well as Checklists of Relevant Nursing Diagnoses. Patient Case Study scenarios threaded through each chapter offer a “simulation-focus” to help students get a sense of real world nursing. Nursing Alerts quickly identify urgent nursing actions that may be required when managing a patient receiving a specific drug or drug category through. Drug Interaction Tables provide at-a-glance information about the likelihood of a patient problem when multiple drugs are given. Summary Drug Tables list drugs from the classes discussed in each chapter, including names, uses, frequent adverse reactions, and general dosing information. Lifespan Considerations boxes meet the needs of specific populations at risk or needing specific drug administration considerations through practical. Herbal Considerations boxes provide information on herbs and complementary and alternative remedies. Chronic Care Considerations prepare for situations that may arise during drug therapy for patients with chronic illnesses, such as diabetes, hypertension, or epilepsy, including issues of polypharmacy through. Know Your Drugs (matching questions), Calculate Medication Dosages (dosage calculation questions), and Prepare for NCLEX-PN (NCLEX-style questions), appear at the end of each drug chapter. Learning Objectives, Key Terms, and Drug Class lists identify potential errors and safety concerns to help students focus their reading and enhance their mastery of course concepts. An updated Appendix H (NCLEX-PN test plan) addresses he latest test plan, as well as the concept-based curricula through additional definitions and links to content items in the text that correspond to concept-based teaching strategies What makes us different? • Instant Download • Always Competitive Pricing • 100% Privacy • FREE Sample Available • 24-7 LIVE Customer Support

[greatebookstoreblog]

Roach’s Introductory Clinical Pharmacology 11th Edition by Susan M. Ford, ISBN-13: 978-1496343567 [PDF eBook eTextbook] Publisher: ‎ LWW; 11th edition (October 11, 2017) Language: ‎ English 736 pages ISBN-10: ‎ 1496343565 ISBN-13: ‎ 978-1496343567 Prepare your students for successful practice and NCLEX-PN success with this updated 11th Edition of Roach’s Introductory Clinical Pharmacology. Developed by nurses for nurses, this practice-oriented text not only helps students learn about drugs and their effect on real people, but also models how to relay this information to patients. Known for its impeccably accurate drug content, this bestseller focuses on basic principles and the nurse’s responsibility in medication management. The book’s easy-to-understand writing style combines with empowering online resources, including videos, NCLEX-PN-style review questions, and drug monographs, to help students hone their critical thinking and problem-solving skills as they master one of the most challenging content areas in the curriculum. KEY FEATURES NEW! Unique Concept Mapping introduced in Chapter 5, Patient Education help students both process and visualize important concepts. NEW! A List of Abbreviations is now on the inside back cover for easy reference. NEW! Concept Mastery Alerts highlight and clarify commonly misunderstood concepts. Pharmacology in Practice Case Studies focus on assessment, administration, or teaching issues that affect real-life patients and are revisited in the Think Critically questions which ask students to explore options and make clinical judgments related to the administration of drugs. The Nursing Process framework presents care of the patient as it relates to the drug and drug regimen, as well as Checklists of Relevant Nursing Diagnoses. Patient Case Study scenarios threaded through each chapter offer a “simulation-focus” to help students get a sense of real world nursing. Nursing Alerts quickly identify urgent nursing actions that may be required when managing a patient receiving a specific drug or drug category through. Drug Interaction Tables provide at-a-glance information about the likelihood of a patient problem when multiple drugs are given. Summary Drug Tables list drugs from the classes discussed in each chapter, including names, uses, frequent adverse reactions, and general dosing information. Lifespan Considerations boxes meet the needs of specific populations at risk or needing specific drug administration considerations through practical. Herbal Considerations boxes provide information on herbs and complementary and alternative remedies. Chronic Care Considerations prepare for situations that may arise during drug therapy for patients with chronic illnesses, such as diabetes, hypertension, or epilepsy, including issues of polypharmacy through. Know Your Drugs (matching questions), Calculate Medication Dosages (dosage calculation questions), and Prepare for NCLEX-PN (NCLEX-style questions), appear at the end of each drug chapter. Learning Objectives, Key Terms, and Drug Class lists identify potential errors and safety concerns to help students focus their reading and enhance their mastery of course concepts. An updated Appendix H (NCLEX-PN test plan) addresses he latest test plan, as well as the concept-based curricula through additional definitions and links to content items in the text that correspond to concept-based teaching strategies What makes us different? • Instant Download • Always Competitive Pricing • 100% Privacy • FREE Sample Available • 24-7 LIVE Customer Support

[ebookshopsolution]

Roach’s Introductory Clinical Pharmacology 11th Edition by Susan M. Ford, ISBN-13: 978-1496343567 [PDF eBook eTextbook] Publisher: ‎ LWW; 11th edition (October 11, 2017) Language: ‎ English 736 pages ISBN-10: ‎ 1496343565 ISBN-13: ‎ 978-1496343567 Prepare your students for successful practice and NCLEX-PN success with this updated 11th Edition of Roach’s Introductory Clinical Pharmacology. Developed by nurses for nurses, this practice-oriented text not only helps students learn about drugs and their effect on real people, but also models how to relay this information to patients. Known for its impeccably accurate drug content, this bestseller focuses on basic principles and the nurse’s responsibility in medication management. The book’s easy-to-understand writing style combines with empowering online resources, including videos, NCLEX-PN-style review questions, and drug monographs, to help students hone their critical thinking and problem-solving skills as they master one of the most challenging content areas in the curriculum. KEY FEATURES NEW! Unique Concept Mapping introduced in Chapter 5, Patient Education help students both process and visualize important concepts. NEW! A List of Abbreviations is now on the inside back cover for easy reference. NEW! Concept Mastery Alerts highlight and clarify commonly misunderstood concepts. Pharmacology in Practice Case Studies focus on assessment, administration, or teaching issues that affect real-life patients and are revisited in the Think Critically questions which ask students to explore options and make clinical judgments related to the administration of drugs. The Nursing Process framework presents care of the patient as it relates to the drug and drug regimen, as well as Checklists of Relevant Nursing Diagnoses. Patient Case Study scenarios threaded through each chapter offer a “simulation-focus” to help students get a sense of real world nursing. Nursing Alerts quickly identify urgent nursing actions that may be required when managing a patient receiving a specific drug or drug category through. Drug Interaction Tables provide at-a-glance information about the likelihood of a patient problem when multiple drugs are given. Summary Drug Tables list drugs from the classes discussed in each chapter, including names, uses, frequent adverse reactions, and general dosing information. Lifespan Considerations boxes meet the needs of specific populations at risk or needing specific drug administration considerations through practical. Herbal Considerations boxes provide information on herbs and complementary and alternative remedies. Chronic Care Considerations prepare for situations that may arise during drug therapy for patients with chronic illnesses, such as diabetes, hypertension, or epilepsy, including issues of polypharmacy through. Know Your Drugs (matching questions), Calculate Medication Dosages (dosage calculation questions), and Prepare for NCLEX-PN (NCLEX-style questions), appear at the end of each drug chapter. Learning Objectives, Key Terms, and Drug Class lists identify potential errors and safety concerns to help students focus their reading and enhance their mastery of course concepts. An updated Appendix H (NCLEX-PN test plan) addresses he latest test plan, as well as the concept-based curricula through additional definitions and links to content items in the text that correspond to concept-based teaching strategies What makes us different? • Instant Download • Always Competitive Pricing • 100% Privacy • FREE Sample Available • 24-7 LIVE Customer Support

[royalebook]

Roach’s Introductory Clinical Pharmacology 11th Edition by Susan M. Ford, ISBN-13: 978-1496343567 [PDF eBook eTextbook] Publisher: ‎ LWW; 11th edition (October 11, 2017) Language: ‎ English 736 pages ISBN-10: ‎ 1496343565 ISBN-13: ‎ 978-1496343567 Prepare your students for successful practice and NCLEX-PN success with this updated 11th Edition of Roach’s Introductory Clinical Pharmacology. Developed by nurses for nurses, this practice-oriented text not only helps students learn about drugs and their effect on real people, but also models how to relay this information to patients. Known for its impeccably accurate drug content, this bestseller focuses on basic principles and the nurse’s responsibility in medication management. The book’s easy-to-understand writing style combines with empowering online resources, including videos, NCLEX-PN-style review questions, and drug monographs, to help students hone their critical thinking and problem-solving skills as they master one of the most challenging content areas in the curriculum. KEY FEATURES NEW! Unique Concept Mapping introduced in Chapter 5, Patient Education help students both process and visualize important concepts. NEW! A List of Abbreviations is now on the inside back cover for easy reference. NEW! Concept Mastery Alerts highlight and clarify commonly misunderstood concepts. Pharmacology in Practice Case Studies focus on assessment, administration, or teaching issues that affect real-life patients and are revisited in the Think Critically questions which ask students to explore options and make clinical judgments related to the administration of drugs. The Nursing Process framework presents care of the patient as it relates to the drug and drug regimen, as well as Checklists of Relevant Nursing Diagnoses. Patient Case Study scenarios threaded through each chapter offer a “simulation-focus” to help students get a sense of real world nursing. Nursing Alerts quickly identify urgent nursing actions that may be required when managing a patient receiving a specific drug or drug category through. Drug Interaction Tables provide at-a-glance information about the likelihood of a patient problem when multiple drugs are given. Summary Drug Tables list drugs from the classes discussed in each chapter, including names, uses, frequent adverse reactions, and general dosing information. Lifespan Considerations boxes meet the needs of specific populations at risk or needing specific drug administration considerations through practical. Herbal Considerations boxes provide information on herbs and complementary and alternative remedies. Chronic Care Considerations prepare for situations that may arise during drug therapy for patients with chronic illnesses, such as diabetes, hypertension, or epilepsy, including issues of polypharmacy through. Know Your Drugs (matching questions), Calculate Medication Dosages (dosage calculation questions), and Prepare for NCLEX-PN (NCLEX-style questions), appear at the end of each drug chapter. Learning Objectives, Key Terms, and Drug Class lists identify potential errors and safety concerns to help students focus their reading and enhance their mastery of course concepts. An updated Appendix H (NCLEX-PN test plan) addresses he latest test plan, as well as the concept-based curricula through additional definitions and links to content items in the text that correspond to concept-based teaching strategies What makes us different? • Instant Download • Always Competitive Pricing • 100% Privacy • FREE Sample Available • 24-7 LIVE Customer Support

[medicon84]

Roach pharmacology 11th edition free download

Roach pharmacology 11th edition free download

Roach Pharmacology is To Prepare the students of health professionals for successful practice and NCLEX-PN success with this updated 11th Edition. Developed by nurses for nurses, this practice-oriented text not only helps students study drugs and their effect on real people but also models the way to relay this information to patients. Known for its flawlessly exact drug content, this bestseller…

[johannestevans]

Our Flag Means Death S01 E01: Close Textual Analysis

Examining OFMD E1: Pilot in close detail and liveblogging/analysing the text. 

A still from Our Flag Means Death E1 via IMDb. 

I’ve done these before, but just to set some expectations:

This is going to be a rewatch liveblog going through E1 and closely reading and responding to the text, bit by bit, in chronological order.

It’s going to be pretty casual in tone, I will be swearing and making sex jokes and blah blah blah, this is close reading for fun and isn’t academic in tone, but it’s still close reading and commentary on the text with some analysis here and there. For fun.

I’m gay, gay, homosexual, gay, and I’m not editing out the bits where I get distracted by being horny for the benefit of your entertainment and also my own lack of shame. You’re welcome. 

I have seen the whole series, I will be making constant reference to other stuff later in the text, so there will be spoilers for later in the series. 

I’ve been meaning to do one of these for a while and I’m planning to go through more of the episodes if not at all of them, but I was definitely inspired by some of the YouTube compilations of background details in the first few episodes, such as by YouTube user swashbuckling sweethearts and YouTube user Rindecision.

Roach and Izzy are my favourite characters in the show so in case you haven’t seen it, Samba Schutte did a really cool interview with JUST ADD COLOR the last day so check that out as well. 

This analysis of E1 is a little over 14k.

1717. The Golden Age of Piracy. 

Wealthy landowner Stede Bonnet set out to find adventure and renown on the high seas.

Things did not go as planned…

Rindecision pointed out in one of their YouTube compilations that they use the same font and justification for the introductory panel as they do to introduce Black Sails which I really appreciate — I know Taika Waititi’s favourite romance movie is Master and Commander, and I love stuff like the homages to Black Sails in this show as well because like… queer sailors, man, it all comes together. 

Anyway, I love and adore Frenchie and I adore his lute and I love his silly little lyrics and his accent. It’s like a West Country thing, I’m guessing Bristol? It’s Joel Fry’s own accent, and I’ve been looking up to see but I can’t see him talking about it anywhere, but I love it. 

One of the things I really love about the show consistently is how people mostly have their own accents (the real characters, not the Spanish/British/French cannon fodder), and especially like, seeing the variety in English accents between Oluwande, Frenchie, Izzy, and Lucius, especially. 

I never noticed until rewatching just how much Oluwande and Pete really get on each other’s nerves, and especially how Oluwande, who’s honestly quite an understanding and easygoing guy, is constantly the first one to tell Pete to shut the fuck up when he’s being a prick, and I love that for him.

They’re all playing cards and Pete’s fidgeting and like:

ROACH: It’s your bet.

PETE: I know it’s my bet.

OLUWANDE: Then bet. Why are you always taking long?

PETE: Fuck this! I’m out.

And he slams his cards down, and like… So I know that there’s the crew as family and that there is a vague sense of like, sibling/bickering family member dynamics between the crew later on, but the thing about the first episode is that you can see a lot of characters do not necessarily like each other or learn to get on with each other as they do later on?

Which, to be fair, is because they have nothing to ally against and all they have to do is have a go at each other, even without Pete’s constant temper tantrums.

I love that they appear to be betting seashells with each other as they gamble, especially because Wee John’s doing rope stuff in the background, Oluwande apparently walked away from the table to do his own rope stuff, the Swede is shuffling cannonballs around, and Jim is just… brooding. As they do. 

I love how all the lads go hey! when Pete shuffles up the cards on the table because it’s such an asshole thing to do, but one thing I really love about Samba Schutte’s approach to Roach is how expressive he is with his body — he does so much acting with his hands and arms and he does so many like… plaintive gestures and stuff, and it kills me. 

Oluwande rolling his eyes at Pete gives me so much love and strength. 

So Buttons is calling out over the ship, “On your feet for your captain!” which I think is interesting — I do kind of get the impression that of the people on the Revenge, Buttons is the one with the most formal experience? Or the most formal proclivities anyway. 

Love that Pete is already on his feet, as is the Swede, Roach, Frenchie, Jim, and Lucius reluctantly get up, and Wee John stays sat down because fuck authority — and so does Oluwande, because he’s the real authority.

Frenchie’s so much shyer in the first few episodes than he is later on and like, I really appreciate his meek defence of Stede saying maybe he’s just a sort of slow pirate, but ditto like, how quiet and sweet his voice is when he goes, “Um, bottle it up?” in response to Bonnet’s talk it through prompting — I really wonder about it because like…

So obviously later on we see Frenchie so much more confident and excited before obviously becoming withdrawn and quiet post-marooning in the final episode, and I think it’d be easy to think that with Frenchie’s conman abilities that the shyness is an act, but I don’t think that’s the case? Like, he can be a good conman, but in episode 1 he’s very much learning who he is on the ship and who he can relax and play with, and I like that by default he’s quite shy even though he’s also a very cheerful and optimistic guy. 

Stede goes, “No, Frenchie, that’s the worst thing you could do!” and he goes, “No? Oh, oh, sorry…” and he backs down and he looks so nervous and like… 

I really hope an interviewer goes through all the cast and their personal backstories for the characters at some point because I know Frenchie mentions being in service and I’m so curious about like, how much of his uncertainty and meekness in conversation comes from uncertainty around, you know, white people — or at the least, rich white people like Stede. 

I like how tired Wee John is of the whole situation, especially when he goes, “We talk about it?” and then looks annoyed at Jim and the Swede — he’s not present much in the passive aggression episode later but I will undoubtedly have thoughts to express on like, Irish approaches to English imperialist ideals around “politeness” and whatever, but also like… compliance with forced politeness to get it over with as soon as possible versus resisting out of awkwardness and then drawing it out. 

When Stede screams “places everybody” and just sort of toddles about awkwardly without any idea what he’s doing it’s. Funny. He’s such an awkward mess of a man. Made of spaghetti. 

I have to wonder if Swede is meant to be in the position of master gunner because it’s him that hauls cannonballs around and awkwardly drops one down on the poor auld fellas and it’s like… Why is it him? Like, “why?” is a good question to ask about this entire crew and ship but. Seriously, why? He can’t lift one cannonball.

WEE JOHN, disapprovingly: They’re just a couple of old geezers… 

My subtitles say that the person coaching Stede over the side to awkwardly clamber down with the ladder is Buttons, but it’s not — it’s Oluwande. I love that it’s the Swede and Roach trying unsuccessfully to hold the ladder still at the top and everyone else just watches with disgust. 

I’m crying I didn’t realise that when Stede pulled his hat off his head and bade the fishermen farewell they did the same thing and said, “Take care of the plant!” These poor fucking old guys.

STEDE (about the plant): Really fills the space, doesn’t it?

LUCIUS: … Yeah. (wide-eyed, staring at Stede like, “is he fucking serious?” but of course he’s serious, because it’s Stede.) It’s fine. (little widening of the eyes/eyeroll to himself and half-shrug as he stares down at the journal to save himself from the awkwardness). 

STEDE: Now, where was I?

LUCIUS: Um… being a pirate captain…

I’m just very curious about Lucius’ position and how he found his way onto the Revenge and into Stede’s employ because literally at no point does he look comfortable or certain of where he is and what he’s doing in the first few episodes — we know he’s a pickpocket and that he can read and write, but also pushes reading and writing as quite impressive? And I think Nathan Foad has mentioned somewhere about him doing some work as a molly and like…

He’s just in a tenuous position in general and I can see how it’d be (relatively) safe under a man like Stede who’s an obvious fruit and also an idiot, but like… he’s at sea? Surrounded by violent men who may or may not hate mollies like him? Like I just die over how it seems to be that the people other than Stede that Lucius talks most with, and who he’s most comfortable with, are actually Pete and Oluwande, who obviously hate each other but like… are the other two queer men on the ship. 

Stede’s got Problems (autism and anxiety same hat lmao) but what I find so funny is that Lucius is so fucking unprepared for them — Stede comes down, sweeps his coat aside with a flourish, sits, is sitting for less than a second, walks across the room, opens the curtains, leans against the wall for two seconds, then just starts walking out of the office, and Lucius is watching him like, “wait, wait, where are you — “ and then is awkwardly chasing after him with his book and quill and it’s so funny. This poor fucking man. 

The language Stede’s using with Lucius is really interesting too — when Stede’s talking about how he pays the crew a salary, he’s saying to Lucius, “For example, if your average pirate doesn’t steal, he doesn’t eat. That’s a lot of mental pressure.” And Lucius is genuinely interested, or at the very least, concentrated — he’s making notes as he follows Stede, but he’s also making eye contact with him and matching his expressions. “So… I pay my crew a salary — same wage every week, no matter what.”

What’s curious to me about this set-up is that Lucius is being treated like an outside observer or an interviewer. The journal is not being paid for or organised by an outside party or authority, and it’s not like Lucius is doing this of his own accord — this is a vanity project, Lucius is Stede’s scribe, and Stede is paying him for this, but Stede talks to him as if it’s Lucius asking him questions rather than Stede directing his own journal.

It’s not that he sees Lucius as a peer, because he calls Lucius “boy” and gives him orders and instructions, but what he is doing is thinking constantly of the eventual intention for his journal to be read by others, his own peers, perhaps the boys who used to bully him at school, men he knows in Barbados. Lucius is therefore serving as an extension of them while Stede is talking, and like… It’s no wonder Lucius isn’t fucking used to that, because while he can read and write, I do not get the impression he’s ever served as a clerk, or that he’s educated enough to get a position like that in a real office rather than with someone who’s not Stede.

Lucius is under a lot of stress here because it’s a weird position to be in — a lot of personal assistant jobs are strangely intimate and have a weird sense of boundaries because you’re expected to act as an extension of another person’s will, but Lucius isn’t just a PA, he’s Stede’s fucking diarist, and he just has to write down all of Stede’s thoughts while Stede (to Lucius, possibly seemingly at random) swaps between talking to Lucius politely, like the two of them are having a measured and even conversation (when Lucius is acting as a scribe and an extension of Stede’s own peer group) and like his servant (the rest of the time). 

I’m not saying Lucius can’t have had experience with that, especially because if he has worked in mollyhouses, sex work often has a similar vibe when you’re testing someone out and seeing who they want you to be to them/act like you are to them, but this specific scenario is almost undoubtedly a new one to him, and a weird feeling to juggle.

I would also point out that Stede says, “I pay my crew a salary…” — the use of the personal pronoun here excludes Lucius. Now, is Stede talking to Lucius, bearing in mind he makes eye contact with him that Lucius returns and engages with as if he’s an interviewer, or is he talking entirely to his imaginary readers? Because it sounds like, from Lucius’ perspective, that Lucius doesn’t count as a member of the crew, that he’s separate from the crew. 

Which, yeah, that could track, in that Lucius is a secretary and is separate from the crew proper, much as on many ships now, ship’s sailors and maintenance crew separate from those responsible for domestic tasks and customer service, but also like… Lucius is very much on board with the mutiny and puts himself between Pete and Oluwande, on their side, and obviously considers himself a part thereof. 

Unionise, I guess, is what I’m saying. 

I do find it telling that Stede says the crew “came around” to the idea and then starts telling Lucius all about amenities that the crew do not necessarily seem massively into though, because like… Stede’s whole thing is having great ideas and not discussing their execution or the appeal of them with the crew. 

STATE OF THE ART EN SUITE where Pete’s having a shit and Roach is stuffed into a tiny little tub that his legs and his arms both stick out of having a bath — but we know that Stede has a literal massive full-sized tub elsewhere? Classic Stede.

Swede’s polishing cannonballs because… It’s the Swede — I do find it interesting that Stede feels the need to go around calling everything the rec center or jam room or whatever when like, it’s literally just the interior of the ship, but it is cute that everyone’s playing music together even if it’s because Stede’s doing a TV interview-style supercut three hundred years before TV was invented. 

STEDE: And, of course, a full library! The crew is free to borrow books whenever. So far, you’re the only one to take me up on it. 

LUCIUS: Well, I’m the only crew member who can read. 

STEDE: That’s not… Is that true? Ough. 

Stede’s face in this scene is so interesting because the harpsichord is doing this background smug thing as Stede haughtily walks away, and he genuinely acts as if it’s distasteful and unthinkable that the crew can’t read, but like… It is not sympathetic or compassionate about them.

He acts as if the crew have all actively made a choice not to be able to read, and as if it’s something they should be looked down on for, and it’s interesting seeing Lucius’ face as the camera goes back to him because Lucius is like… annoyed.

Not massively! He’s not going to kick up a fuss. 

But he’s furrowing his brow and curling his lip a bit and he’s looking at Stede so intently, and what I love about the Lucius we see in the early episodes versus later on is the way we constantly see him exhibiting and exercising significant restraint in telling Stede what’s up because like… his position is tenuous. None of the crew know what Stede is really like yet, and they definitely don’t trust him or think of him as a particularly reliable employer. 

I REFUSE TO BE ATTRACTED TO RHYS DARBY BUT READING GLASSES A BIT HOT, ACTUALLY.

I love how the crew are lined up and all just look so disgusted and annoyed with Stede, even before Stede effectively opens up his notes and critique session by praising himself and saying how “inspiring” his own opening speech was. 

PETE: Stealing a plant is hardly swashbuckling.

ROACH: (laughs)

WEE JOHN: A fecking disgrace is what it is.

I love Roach and Wee John, I don’t think I’ve observed their friendship closely enough but they do team up a LOT, and I’m like… good. Let them tell Stede he’s a prick. 

I love what comes after though because it’s about the reframing of power dynamics and stuff where like… Stede is such a hypocrite and is obviously rich and white and clueless about literally everything, and that’s the core driver in his tensions with much of the crew in the initial few episodes, but the places where I find myself having the most genuine affection for Stede are where he opens himself up to criticism. He doesn’t do it every time, he’s got his own sensitivities about it, but I really appreciate it when it’s obviously something that’s uncomfortable by definition, and the thing is like — 

Because everyone on the crew is so used to brute force as a response to insults, every time Stede does it, or praises them unexpectedly, they’re really caught off guard and engage with it. 

STEDE: What was that? Who said that? Wee John, was that you?

Stede has such primary school teacher vibes, and I do actually love that he says “what?” and “who?” before he directly addresses John, and also asks if it was him even though they’re standing 6 feet away from each other and they both know damn well it was him — it’s Stede’s politeness going, where just outright retorting to John would be overly direct and therefore rude, but it’s also quite a non-threatening way of approaching the conflict in a way that establishes surprise and disapproval that someone would say something unkind before directly addressing the unkindness, just like teachers do with kids.

WEE JOHN, raising his shoulders and his head: And what if it were? (starts raising up a weapon)

LUCIUS: (silently looks at Stede with his lips pressed together, willing Stede to make eye contact with him so he can tell him to back down)

STEDE, flustered: Well, I’d… 

LUCIUS: (literally rocking slightly on his feet)

STEDE: I’d simply ask you to, uh, reframe that criticism… as a suggestion.

I have the show on pause here and I’m fascinated by Wee John’s chance, I want to cup Kristian Nairn’s face between my palms and tell him that I adore him unconditionally, it’s like…

Stede says those words and Wee John is just immediately emotionally — and physically — disarmed. He puts his blunt instrument down by his sides, his arms come down, his shoulders come back, he raises his head and leans back the slightest bit on his heels, his jaw is agape, his eyes are slightly wide, his eyebrows are raised. He’s aghast at this. It doesn’t compute.

Wee John, a few minutes ago, wouldn’t get to his feet just because he was told to do so, but he was also the one who looked vaguely irritated with the crew when no one else gave Stede the obvious right answer to his question — and now, Stede is responding to Wee John’s offer of a fight with like…

Tell me what you’d like to do better.

Tell me how to change.

Tell me, your captain, how best to please you.

STEDE: What’s one thing you’d change around here, if you could?

WEE JOHN: Well, we don’t even have a flag, for one. 

EVERYONE: (murmurings of agreement)

STEDE: Oh. 

WEE JOHN: Any pirate worth a damn has a flag. 

So firstly I’m guessing this scene was cut shortly for time — I really wish that in the cut between Stede asking what he’d change and the camera returning to John that we were able to see John’s transition between his shock and surprise at being asked his opinion to him actually gearing himself up to give that opinion, because he goes from very open body language to a much more businesslike, closed-off stance. I know that OFMD is sitcom and they don’t like, have the time to go through all the organic motions of character work unless it’s for the bigger emotional beats, but I’m just hungry for this kind of character acting and every single member of the cast is so good at it, but in this scene obviously like, especially Nairn.

Anyway, all the crew agree, and you can see Stede listening and taking it really seriously, Rhys Darby does the dad approval thing where he presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows and gives one big nod of the head, which I really like, because it’s like…

The crew are so just weirded out by it, but I love what it says about Stede’s management style as you see the crew go on and like each other.

Waht I really dislike about some people’s readings or surface-level takes from the show is this idea that Stede is somehow like, “civilising” the crew, and that’s not it. His way is not more “civilised”, which you can tell by the way that Stede upholds so much racist shit — what Stede is introducing is not present in “polite” society.

What Stede is introducing is not what he grew up with, or what he’s used to, or what rich people do in general.

What Stede is instead instituting is a management policy where management are open to criticism and, as much as he’s capable of in his tone-deaf way, a working environment that genuinely fosters open communication — and especially rewatching this episode now and thinking about how much conflict everyone has with each other and how much they all get on each other’s nerves versus later, like… This approach works and does have a positive effect, even just in them all being more confident speaking with each other and Stede, not just with criticism, but with positive feedback as well.

Fuck me though, Lucius’ background anxiety is incredible, Nathan Foad really did put his whole fucking heart into this role and I’m a little distracted by his chest hair on the still I paused on right now but like… When Stede and Lucius are putting out the silks, Lucius keeps glancing at Stede and the rest of the crew, and fuck, the anxiety that’s coming off him in waves, like…

So Stede’s putting out the silks and even before Pete starts off on his “that’s women’s work” posturing, Roach and Frenchie look baffled and a little bit annoyed with it. The whole crew are a bit like “what the fuck, mate?” 

And Stede isn’t experiencing any tension because he’s austistic and under several warm, comfortable blankets of denial at all times, but Lucius? 

Also like, watch Pete deliver that line by the way. When he says “That’s women’s work,” he’s looking someone up and down, but the way that Lucius rolls his eyes immediately after, it definitely comes off as Pete doing that at Lucius rather than Stede. 

Lucius a gay man who’s obviously gay on a ship full of, presumably, heterosexual pirates, many of whom have violent inclinations, and Lucius is not used to violence in the first instance, but in the second, like — 

Lucius refers to himself as a crew member and sees himself as a crew member, but there’s very much that awareness that he’s often separated from the rest of the crew and in many ways acts as an extension of Stede, and do the crew see him that way or see him as one of them? Especially when Stede talks to Lucius the way he does and Lucius is afforded special treatment? Even if everyone mutinied and didn’t directly go for Lucius, how well would he do in that situation?

The background acting choices are just… so much. 

OKAY PRIMARY SCHOOL TEACHER STEDE AGAIN LIKE…

STEDE: How many of you sew? Be honest…

ROACH: (slowly raising his hand) Sewed my shoulder up once… after I’d been stabbed. (pulls back his shirt)

EVERYONE: (groans)

STEDE: Oh! Did you hear that, guys? Roach sewed his own arm up!

I love Schutte’s delivery of these lines because like, again, none of these men are used to being asked their opinions or to share, let alone with the whole crew as a collective with no ranks, but Roach comes off as so like… uncertain? He genuinely is shy, he’s treading carefully and trying to figure out exactly how to approach this situation.

Everyone’s responding with a bit of horror because it’s a nasty injury, Lucius is stood there next to Stede with his eyes fixed to Roach as if Roach is about to be the new star of his nightmares and Lucius is already dreading it…

And how does Stede respond? With praise. He gestures to Roach and goes “sewed his own arm up!” in a very demonstrative way, then follows it up with, “Sounds to me like sewing can be pretty tough!”

(And Roach gives a serious little nod.)

How do you get your crew on board with an activity? Praise the person that opts into the activity, hold up their behaviour as a model and praiseworthy, and then pinpoint the insecurity others are feeling about the activity, (in this case, loss of masculinity) and demonstrate that it’s not a concern. 

That’s how you model good behaviour and it kills me that Stede does that so fucking well, especially when his desire to communicate this way is borne out of his own childhood where he consistently got the opposite. 

Love that Wee John immediately wraps himself in a nice fabric and that everyone gets to work, but also I love that what Stede models consistently is like… Praise. He does encourage everyone to express themselves, but then goes, “Oh, that’s very good!” and engages with everybody one on one, asks what they’re doing and makes sure he gets it and understands.

Also him going, “Don’t you look holy!” and Wee John going, “Oh, thank you.” I adore him. 

“A lot of the guys are sweethearts, deep down… (Roach tries to steal something from the Swede, the Swede grabs him, the two of them commence to beat the shit out of each other. Oluwande confiscates the scissors from Roach before he can use them as Stede breaks them up.) … they’re just dealing with a fair amount of trauma.”

I find it really interesting that Stede says this and knows this, but he also did that massive bitchy thing about the crew not being able to read — there’s a few layers to that I think in that like…

So the conversation about the crew not being able to read was one on one between him and Lucius and was an actual conversation, whereas what Stede is saying to Lucius as his diarist is a performance that’s intended to make him look as palatable and like… especially kind and charitable as possible?

But also, to go back to the primary school teacher vibe, like, there’s no way not to think of Stede’s school teacher-esque approach, his parochial, condescending attitude, and also the like, thing about piracy which to him is like, an adventure, but amounts to this weird trauma tourism? Oluwande and Jim sit down and discuss this with him a bit later, I think in this episode, but like — 

The way he goes “fair amount of trauma” feels so charged with racial and class implications too with the way the voice over is applied to him splitting up the fight, because if Stede is a primary school teacher, he’s the very rich and comfortable teacher who’s just gone to volunteer at an underfunded school in a “diverse” area, and he’s incapable of being normal about it. 

It’s not that he’s wrong about any of the crew being traumatised, it’s the fact that he scoffs at the crew not being able to read and talks about them being traumatised with the exact same huffy, superior tone — they’re traumatised and can’t read, unlike their betters (him). 

Like! David Jenkins mentioned in an interview about the value of a legitimately diverse writers’ room and I just want to quote this bit:

[Charles Pulliam-Moore]: The show about the slave-owning pirate should probably have some people of color in the writers’ room.

[David Jenkins]: Right, and it’s not checking off a diversity list with a golf pencil but really being honest with yourself and asking, “Do I have the perspectives and terms of race, gender, sexuality to create a shared sociological imagination?” It’s fucked up because you write a show and a lot of the plaudits go to you, the showrunner, and it’s like you’re using all of these brains. You know, you have this horsepower of all of these writers like this. The season is the function of all of these brains coming together and creating one sociological imagination.

And when it comes to stuff like this, specifically where you see all these levels of awareness and implication layered on top of each other, on top of the fact that you’ve got a cast of incredibly talented character actors who are putting in a lot of work and effort internally but then with each other, like… 

It just feels so real, and that’s so evocative — and it makes it so much more real then when you have these moments of cluelessness, especially like, thoughtless cruelty or callousness, from Stede or the other characters, and it’s part of the broader tapestry of the character proper.

And what’s really refreshing about OFMD too is like… The way that it depicts race, the way it depicts class, gender, sexuality, neurodivergence, disability, basically anything you can think of, is that they’re all a constant and continuous part of the characters and the world, they’re intrinsic to them.

No one is being Black or queer or disabled to try to teach the audience about something, or to represent a nebulous category that’s supposedly meant to satisfy all manner of “diverse” people at once, as a monolith, and similarly, when characters are being racist or homophobic or just generally dicks to one another, it’s not to hold the audience’s hand and teach them a valuable lesson, or stroke their ego and say, “it’s okay, champ, I know you would have done the right thing, not like this racist guy!”

Instead you see stuff like this where like, there’s a lot more overt racism and classism from Stede later in this episode, but here the schoolteacher attitude giving a voiceover interview to a presumed privileged audience, all condescending over his “underprivileged” employees, that’s a thing I’ve heard and seen again and again and again in fiction and in actual documentaries and stuff— and is also parodied in Abbott Elementary with Chris Perfetti’s character, Jacob — and it feels real, because it is real, and it’s stupid, and it’s funny and quite horrid.

There’s just so many TV shows where the characters are written in such a way where it’s like… When you look away or turn the screen off, they’ll stop being Like That because no one’s watching — it’s not just that the characters themselves don’t feel organic or real or richly considered, it’s that any bigotries or structural oppressions they face only apply when writers and directors feel that it will make an interesting story beat, rather than those aspects being intrinsic to the character.

The fact that the whole team has put such consideration into what struggles to portray and what ones to leave offscreen, and how they want to present everything, takes away that uncomfortable feeling and just leaves us with much realer, more complex characters. 

STEDE: (to Roach, doing the stern dad finger point) So, first of all, you should have asked… (to Swede), And second of all, what could you do with your large bit of fabric? 

THE SWEDE: Talk about it?

STEDE: No, shared. You could have shared it. 

THE SWEDE: Oh.

They don’t know the right answer. They have no idea what the fuck kind of game Stede is playing, so whenever Stede asks a question they all assume it’s a bizarre trap, and when he asks more questions, they respond with a rote answer from one of his previous questions, because this isn’t how anyone runs a pirate crew, and I do love that. 

I also think it’s so sweet how the Swede holds the whole swathe of fabric to his chest like it’s a teddy bear or something. 

PETE: Well, guess it’s time…

OLUWANDE: For what?

Pete: To kill Captain.

Obsessed with how Oluwande’s response to Pete shoving his knife through the table is literally to put his hands down and roll his eyes and look away like, “Oh my God, this shit, what the fuck — “ He’s so done. He’s so fucking tired of Pete being Pete.

I do love that Pete apologises to Frenchie for ruining his fabric when Frenchie goes, “Come on, mate,” like, Pete is capable of… some manners.

STEDE, looking dramatically over the ship: If I can help this crew grow, as people, then I’ve succeeded as a pirate captain. 

Like…

I’ll be asking this question a lot as the series goes on, but you do wonder like… Why piracy? Or more specifically like, who is Stede doing piracy for? His stupid fucking diary is so important to him and like, everything he does is for this imaginary audience of people who actually think he’s impressive instead of thinking he’s a bellend, and it’s an interesting parallel, I think, to Ed who does exist in the midst of this heavily constructed personal mythos and feels very trapped by it, especially because Stede is posh and is hiring a diarist and is also white, and his control over his own narrative is very different and can presumably be more directly targeted to a broader audience? I’ll probably ruminate on that parallel further as we go on. 

I love that it’s Buttons who immediately goes to Stede and says mutiny’s on the cards, and Lucius is like “aw fuck,” because they’re getting snitched on, but God, the way that Stede laughs before he goes, Oh, really?

Like, yeah, really, my guy. You are not great at this. 

“Stop writing!” is so interesting because like…

Of course he doesn’t want the people reading his totally authentic and cool pirate diary to know he’s getting mutinied against seconds after he was saying how impressive and charitable he is. 

LUCIUS: Sorry, I’m confused. You said to record everything, warts and all, so that’s what I’m doing!

STEDE: (snatching out a page) Well, not this!

I like the idea of this scene contrating with what we later see on the French vessel and the specific things that Stede considers to be lying or deception or fuckery, versus the things he just considers to be polite or proper — there’s so much deception inherent to his position in society as a matter of course, and what’s fun about seeing him alongside Lucius, and then the rest of the crew, are the things that he considers to be the norm that he ends up having to express outloud and put explicitly into words…

And as soon as he does so, his own hypocrisy or sheer lack of consideration is put into such stark relief.

Lucius is so offended, too, when Stede tells him to go for a walk, being summarily dismissed like that, and why shouldn’t he be offended? 

He obviously knew that Stede didn’t want him to write it down, and it’s fun to see that bit of resistance and rebellion there, especially because he immediately sweeps off and snitches to everyone else that they’re found out. 

Wee John sounds so tired and annoyed when he says that Pete’s never sailed with Black Pete, and especially the way Oluwande keeps rolling his eyes and Roach laughs, I have to wonder just how constantly Pete brings up his fake Blackbeard stories. 

FRENCHIE: Can you pass the black thread, pretty please? (rubs his hands together, grinning) Cheers, me dears.

I love and adore him. Desperately I do. Everything this man does is so unspeakably endearing to me. 

ROACH: What is that, a cat? The flag’s supposed to be scary.

FRENCHIE: Yeah, cats are terrifying. Everyone knows that.

I love Frenchie’s little sailmaker’s palm that he’s using to sew with — I don’t think everyone’s wearing them, but it’s a nice little detail that some of the crew are using them for flag and sail repair to help them push their needles through, even if their sewing on the flag and stuff looks clumsy. 

Oluwande’s face through Frenchie’s delivery here is such a journey, the way he furrows his brow and raises his head like, eh? 

FRENCHIE: ’Cause they’re witches. And they’ve got knives in their feet.

He just says it with so much certainty and I’m just like… I am constantly thinking about the fact that Frenchie is a really adept conman and social manipulator who’s so full of gentleness and affection for others, is generally full of energy and likes to have a laugh, and also, he believes in the most specific and bizarre aspects of folklore or conspiracy. What a man.

WEE JOHN, on the subject of mutiny: If we can light him on fire, I’m in.

As if Stede Bonnet wasn’t already flaming, John. 

It’s noteworthy to me that Lucius immediately goes to the crew and advises them that Buttons told Stede about the mutiny, and goes, “I’m still in, by the way,” immediately. Lucius is the one that spends the most time with Stede and gets most irritated by him, but also displays the most anxiety with a lot of the crew, especially in moments of potential violence? And I’m just so fascinated by that juxtaposition and what he thinks of like… What he’d be on the ship without Stede there, you know?

He’s got a bad back and isn’t adept at most of the ship’s labour, so. 

When Stede and Buttons come out of that weird front passage at the prow of the ship, I do wonder if that’s one of Stede’s various secret passages or what, because Buttons does look curiously about before he peeks over to see if the crew are paying attention.

Anyway, no one is steering the ship at this point, which is a constant in this show, but it is a funny aspect of the muppet ‘verse. 

STEDE: I can’t believe it! Why?

BUTTONS: I wouldn’t take it personal. It’s just that they don’t like you, or the way that you do things.

STEDE: Hmm. I’m supportive, caring. Responsive to their needs…

Thinking about Mary’s POV, and how Stede in her perspective does nothing of value, takes up space in the house, expects Mary to attend to his every whim, do various domestic work for him, takes up the entire bed and doesn’t notice that Mary’s uncomfortable, et cetera.

There’s something to be said about feigned helplessness and weaponised incompetence that some people use within their relationships to avoid their fair share of labour, especially when it’s people who realise early on that they don’t have to contribute for whatever reason (for example, in regards to gendered labour), and then coast on that — but what I find interesting in cisgender men like Stede is that like…

It’s not enough that he never actually listens when people communicate with him, because it’s part of his identity and his own opinion of himself that of course he listens. The fact that he only listens when people say the things he’s coached or pressured them to say is irrelevant to him, because ultimately, all of his kindness, his approach to his duties, and now his management style, is about his own ego and how he appears to his imaginary audience. 

He is all for communication, so long as that communication ends with the result he imagined in the beginning, and because of this he can never compromise or even listen to outside perspectives, because Stede is writing a social script for himself and he expects everyone to say the lines he imagined for them even before they start speaking. 

BUTTONS: See, that may be what’s contributing to the poor overall impression. 

STEDE: What is the overall impression? 

BUTTONS: That you’re weak… soft-bellied, yellow.

STEDE: I see.

BUTTONS: Craven, ill-equipped to lead men. 

STEDE: Understood! … Thank you. 

I really want to keep track of how much Buttons begins to list things when someone starts speaking to him because it’s such a funny and specific tendency — I know it’s a standard improv technique, but Ewen Bremner just does it so well as Buttons and it goes in so well with his like, gruff, slightly overly-procedural characterisation.

Buttons here is being so blunt and so honest with Stede in large part because he feels it’s his duty as first mate, and what really stands out to me is that Stede is asking for him to be honest about what people’s impressons are, but like...

Stede has such an unrealistic idea of himself, yes, but also so much of his identity is based in self-deception and denial? And I never know with Stede how much he’s being honest when he’s trying to act confident, what his self-esteem is like at any one moment.

He’s so certain he’s a loving father, even though he abandoned the family to fuck about at sea; he’s so certain he’s a great husband even though he makes Mary’s life a living Hell with his constant self-obsession; he’s so sure he can just do whatever he likes, and the world will open up to him.

He’s got protagonist syndrome out the wazoo, but simultaneously he despises himself and takes every criticism to heart — it’s not quite on a level with Ed’s own Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria when we see him later, but it’s all about those layers of identity. 

STEDE: What I’m hearing is they could do with more structure. Perhaps, a firmer hand?

BUTTONS: Or an iron fist. Give ’em something to really stick their teeth into, make them earn their keep. Know what I’m saying?

STEDE: I get it. Toughen up. 

Rhys Darby really can stick his lower lip out so far, which I am noticing in this particular profile shot more than I have ever realised before. He really puffs himself up here, and I have to wonder if he’s thinking about his father and what he was taught by him, if he’s thinking about bullies at school, who exactly he’s thinking of and considering emulating. 

The way everyone laughs and hisses at the idea of Pete being captain of the vessel while Pete is completely certain of his ability is interesting — Stede and Pete really are paralleled so much in this episode, I think, in terms of being out of touch as the cis white guys that cannot read the room and have unrealistically high opinions of themselves. 

Everyone loves Jim, and… me too. 

PETE: No offence, I know you’re… mates. 

Love that Pete puts emphasis on the word mates when he’s talking about Jim to Oluwande. Love that implication. 

It’s great too that Jim is just sharpening their dagger on a strop this whole time and isn’t even trying to sew. What a champ. 

Buttons doesn’t appear to need to use the spyglass to look at the approaching vessel, which is interesting — eagle-eyed? Gull-eyed? Whatever.

Oluwande’s skills at de-escalating conflict are so fascinating to me — obviously he has a vested interest in keeping Bonnet in command so that the ship can remain sufficiently stable as a hiding place for himself and Jim, but he’s so subtle about it, firstly in shrugging off Pete’s criticism of Jim and Roach’s suggestion that Jim be the captain by saying that Jim isn’t interested in politics (while Jim keeps their head bowed and doesn’t engage meaningfully in the conversation at all, letting Oluwande take on all of it, which is fascinating to me); secondly, by shrugging and saying that he has no beef with Bonnet and immediately pointing out the story-telling as, “That’s one nice thing about him.”

It’s such a curious thing to lead with, the niceness of Stede Bonnet, because, yes, of course he’s nice, and yet it’s his niceness that the rest of the crew have such a problem with. 

The way they all bully Lucius to do the voice when Lucius knows he can’t do the voice is so funny, but if you look at everyone nagging him to do it, Oluwande isn’t actually joining in — he’s successfully redirected attention on him and Jim as members or not of the mutiny elsewhere, and everyone is just distracted by Lucius Spriggs’ shitty voice acting to keep at them. 

STEDE, with his hands on his hips, the fruitiest he’s been so far: Well here’s the deal, buckos!

He’s such an idiot. I want to keep him in a jar. 

Roach interrupts Stede here after asking if it’s really a big ship this time, and goes, “I’m not asking you, I’m asking him,” and gestures to Buttons, and it’s so funny because it’s like… They just can’t and don’t rely on Stede because they know he’s disconnected from reality, and it cracks me up.

Wee John’s pyromania rears its head again, and then…

The Swede is sharpening blades in a way that seems neither efficient nor safe; Jim is throwing knives; Black Pete is cleaning his guns while looking directly into their barrels; Frenchie is singing about how they’re all about to die. 

Stede’s trauma around blood and violence is so funny to me because of course you’re frightened of blood, you absolute fop, I can’t wait to see you drenched in it in S2, my darling disgusting man.

He really does reach out to Buttons in quite a vulnerable way though, and Buttons is a bit esoteric in his answer, but he doesn’t comment on Stede’s anxiety — I do find it funny that with his iron teeth he comments, “Getting too old for hand-to-hand violence.”

Like, are you? As in, are you getting too old to go hand to hand, but teeth to throat, that’s just fine? Fascinating. Tell me more. 

I think it’s tumeric that Wee John’s smearing on his face, or some sort of yellow powder, anyway? Which… I don’t even know what that’s about.

Anyway, trauma flashback for Stede, woo hoo!

The blood spatter on Rhys Darby’s wee son is so well-shot, and I actually really love the way they show his wince away from his da with the camera at young!Stede’s level, with his father cut off at the neck — it emphasises his smallness and his vulnerability as a child and how intimidating he finds his father, but it also really puts across the impersonal nature of their relationship and the lack of intimacy in it.

He can be close to his father’s butchery, and is being forced to be so, but not to the man himself. 

OFMD is obviously so concerned with varieties of masculinity and the toxicity inherent in so many of them, but his father really does pivot from saying, “This is what a man’s work looks like,” to then lecturing young!Stede broadly about class, but in such a way that’s quite disconnected from reality, or at least, his own reality or place in it?

BONNET SNR: One day, all this will be yours. Not ’cause you deserve it or ’cause you’ve earned it, Lord knows you haven’t done that. Because you lucked into it. What do you suppose that makes you?

STEDE: Fortunate?

BONNET SNR: (laughs) Fortunate?

STEDE: (smiling, but begins to fade)

BONNET SNR: Oh, no. (while smiling) A weak-hearted, soft-handed, lily-livered little rich boy. That’s all you’ll ever be, Stede Bonnet!

Like, my guy, that’s your son. You made him this way, but also like — You’re rich? Also? The way Bonnet Snr leans physically down into his space is obviously designed to make him feel as small and talked down to as possible, but it’s like…

If Stede is indeed weak-hearted, soft-hearted, and lily-livered, there is something to be said for the nurture as well as the nature here — why are you only showing him animal butchery at like, ten years old? Why are you surprised that you, a rich man, have raised a rich son? What is not clicking here?

Anyway, love Stede’s insecurity and dramatic muttering to himself while wrapped in his dressing gown. 

“I find the feel of silk very invigorating.”

Literally, what is Stede talking about at any time?

The fact that Oluwande comes down to check in at Buttons’ behest with Jim as his shadow and immediately puts that aside to ask if Stede’s okay when he’s visibly not okay is so precious to me, but he does immediately offer to go, and like — 

It’s such a weird position that Oluwande and Jim are put in because like, is anyone ever prepared for their manager’s weird mental health issues when they start being unloaded on them? 

STEDE: I was just gonna say, uh, it’s actually been a minute since I’ve, uh, done the old hand-to-hand. 

Oluwande looks around with such curiosity and interest as he crosses the threshold into Stede’s cabin — it’s such a huge and luxurious space, and it’s so evident that apart from Lucius, most of the crew do not regularly (if at all) see the inside of it despite Stede’s assurances that they can dip into the library at any time.

Oluwande and Jim’s dynamic in the beginning is so brilliant to me, because Jim does come into the space with Wande and instead of keeping their head bowed as they have with the rest of the crew, they do actually make eye contact and engage more with Stede — I suppose that of the people on board, Stede is the least likely to potentially see through their disguise and recognise them, particularly as he presumably hired them. 

Jim lets Oluwande take care of most things, but here Oluwande immediately defers to Jim on matters of combat, but like… Fuck me. They already know that Stede’s a soft touch, but the way that Stede is like, “uhhh, refresher?” as if he’s ever fought in his life, and like — 

OLUWANDE: Listen, Captain, you know, if I may…

STEDE: You may! Come on. (pats the couch either side of him) Have a seat. Please.

Obsessed with the look that Oluwande share with this exchange, Oluwande and Jim’s both, complete uncertainty and bafflement at this situation because it’s just so fucking awkward and they are so uncomfortable. 

OLUWANDE: Look, Captain… You know, pirating is not for everyone. 

JIM: (hunkered forward, brim of the hat pulled down, looking bodily away from both of them, shaking their head)

STEDE: Oh, no, yeah. 

OLUWANDE: It’s a really dangerous lifestyle. 

JIM: (nodding their head)

STEDE: (looking to Jim, then Oluwande) Yeah, some of us thrive on danger, don’t we? 

OLUWANDE: (having regrets for a moment as he stares into the middle distance) Yeah…. Yeah, but look. Me and Jim, we don’t do this because we like it. We do it because… we don’t have any other choice. 

STEDE: Oh, I hear that.

OLUWANDE: (visible disbelief)

STEDE: I mean, here we are just the whole band of us. Killing and… having to kill. I mean that’s… having to, having to kill…

He’s just here having this whole mental breakdown over a job he spent a great deal of money on throwing himself into with no experience or awareness of what it was like or what it entailed, and here Oluwande is really showing him a kindness by trying to gently point out to him the way he’s blinkered by his privileged upbringing?

He’s pointing out, as nicely as he can (and as nicely as he very much is forced to by the disparity between his and Stede’s positions) that what Stede is doing is like, you know, trauma tourism that he’s not even emotionally prepared for. 

And Stede is completely and utterly oblivious, buried simultaneously in his own manufactured narrative and his childhood trauma. 

And… fuck.

STEDE: I’m not a pirate. I’m an idiot. Oh, God. Oh, no… 

And fuck, but those deep breaths he takes, the way he almost sobs, and the way Oluwande looks at him and puts his hand on his chest, staring at this man with genuine concern because like — 

Yes, Stede is an idiot, and yes, he’s an arse, but also this is quite an unwell man in front of him and Oluwande feels some sympathy for him, but there is no fucking time for that when the cannon shot comes across.

Stede’s surprise and affront at how big the ship is cracks me up, especially because she’s so heavily crewed, but — 

BUTTONS: Have you been crying?

STEDE, in too deep: What? No… No. 

Anyway, so… The English vessel is interesting. I love that there’s a fella with a tiny spyglass, and then the talking guy with a medium spyglass, and then Rory Kinnear as Nigel Badminton, with a big spyglass.

Something about his penis, I don’t know. 

I really like that Badminton says “eye” and some other fella puts a folded handkerchief over his eye instead of just closing it himself, that’s so unnecessary, ditto his horrible rich sherry voice as he’s talking. 

ENGLISH CUNT, coming up in the tender: I say, does one of you happen to be Stede Bonnet?

STEDE: (looks helplessly at Jim and Oluwande)

JIM: (gestures for him to get up)

OLUWANDE: What are you waiting for? Get up!

Stede cowering on the floor in his dressing gown is me when my washing machine beeps and lets me know it’s time to unload it. 

Stede being met with a bully from school is so wild, especially becaue the crew are all advising him not to do this in hushed voices, and Stede ignores them because like… I don’t know, he’s admittedly in a pretty poor mental state, but also even outside of that his decision-making capacities are never good.

Anyway, there’s literally no reason at this point for Stede to pretend all the Black and brown crew members are his slaves and/or servants, and that the white ones are his buds. He like, does not have to do that at all. That is a choice he makes because he wants to impress a guy that bullied him at school and it’s like…

Bro. 

I do like that while everyone’s scrambling to dress themselves from Stede’s back-up closet, Wee John is playing the fucking harpsichord, he’s white but he’s also Irish, and decides he has no place in this absolute fucking debaucle. 

Shirtless background Roach for the second time this episode. More shirtless Roach in S2. Please. Thanks. 

The way that Badminton says, “Tell me about your colourful crew.” while he’s looking Roach up and down in that skeevy way he has, and then the camera shows Frenchie’s concern and the way he’s measuring the situation so carefully says such a lot about Frenchie’s like, laser focus on tension in pretty much any situation — Stede’s obviously blinkered, but it’s like… Frenchie knows how this works, and we know from his admission on the French ship that he has experience here, but this must be such a fucking stressful situation for him, Roach, and the others, when like — 

They’re already thinking of mutinying because Stede is straight-up just too soft, but what Stede’s done here is put them in a physically dangerous position, inviting fucking English soldiers aboard and then having the crew pose as servants when they literally could have hidden below decks and been safer for it, made themselves scarce; he could have just said they were free men and members of his crew, or that they were passengers or friends of friends — anything other than this, putting them in full view of the Brits, degrading them, but most crucially putting them physically in harm’s way. 

Pete’s got his gun trained on them under the table, but it’s interesting seeing the way that the Brits look to the white pirates and feel that something’s off, the pirates just smile awkwardly in response. 

ENGLISH CUNT: [The tea] has clearly been made by savages…

OLUWANDE: (closes his eyes, disgusted, rolling his eyes)

FRENCHIE: (looks hurt and extremely vulnerable on the other side of the table)

Thinking about the way Frenchie asks, so gently, “What did they do to you, man?” to Ed in the French episode.

Like, Frenchie, what did they do to you? Every time Frenchie does anything I want to wrap him in a blanket and dote on him forever, but here especially like… There’s so much pain here, and you don’t know how recently he was in service, if this is a recent escape, or if it’s dredging up past memories — and it’s such an important parallel, that cut of Frenchie’s face journey for only a moment before it goes to Stede, where for Stede we actually get a flashback and an internal story. 

Frenchie’s eyes are flitting here and there, his lips are pressed together, his eyes have a shine to them like he wants to fucking cry, and the thing about every expression between the Black characters here is that like… They can make whatever faces at all, and the white characters (Stede and the white pirates included) won’t even fucking notice. 

I just… Like, the thing is, this part of the story is still broadly Stede’s POV, and the focus is on his current mental breakdown, but because Joel Fry is just such a good and emotive actor like, you have these bare seconds of shot between Oluwande and Frenchie forced into this position and the depth of fucking feeling here is unspeakable. 

I really do hope in S2 we get flashbacks for the rest of the crew and their backstories more as well as more of Ed’s, but, yeah, fuck.

BADMINTON: We were rowdy school chums. (chuckles) Always playing pranks on one another.

STEDE: (facial expression that clearly communicates he does not remember it that way)

BADMINTON: Hmm? Do you remember the day with the rowboat? 

STEDE: The rowboat? 

BADMINTON: Oh, come on now. 

STEDE: No, I can’t.

BADMINTON: The rowboat. (laughs) It was hysterical!

STEDE: (looking down as the flashback begins)

There’s something so claustrophobic about the long-table separation and the cut between Stede’s face and Badminton’s — something about the candles lit between them along the table and the close frame really does just narrow down the room to just the two of them, and it really does make Stede feel and appear so fucking trapped in the whole scenario, even though it’s a trap partially of his own making. 

That’s something that comes through again and again with this show, I think, how attempting to match yourself to rules of politeness or etiquette that you don’t actually believe in just ends up causing you damage because you’re allowing yourself to be hemmed in by the established oppressive ruleset, and it would show not only more integrity but less vulnerability to refuse to play by those rules at all. 

I love that we see poor young Stede literally just picking fucking flowers before he’s chased by the others, runs into a tree, and then the way his hands are tied to the rowboat’s oars (which will be relevant later on in the episode, actually) as they all throw fucking rocks at him, he’s got a fucking tricorn hat on, and like…

As Stede comes out of this flashback, with the implication as Badminton chuckles that he’s just related this story out loud, we then cut to the white crew members’ reactions…

The Swede, laughing awkwardly while looking entirely pained by what he’s just heard, stopping laughing at soon as Badminton ceases to make eye contact with him and looking sadly at his tea and into the middle distance. 

And then, too, when Stede tries to sort of stand up for himself and Badminton goes, oh, and the horse, do you remember when we made you French kiss the horse? And the British crew are laughing, but like — 

Lucius looks disgusted and upset, is pressing his lips together, but to a visibly gay man he almost certainly received similar bullying that was sexually charged or forced elements of perversion, exactly like, for example, making a boy get too close to a horse’s mouth.

Like, the dislike of Stede in his youth and the decision for him to be the subject of bullying was very much one based in Stede’s effeminacy, but that itself is based in homophobia.

One thing I like about this scene and that I’m grateful for, but that also lends a real additional layer to it is like — 

So we see Frenchie, Roach, and Oluwande’s expressions of pain, disgust, discomfort, fear, uncertainty in this scene, and what we don’t see is flashbacks for them — and none of the white crew are noticing, because at the moment they’re sympathising with Stede who was bullied as a child, sure…

But I really appreciate and am grateful for the fact that as well as not showing Buttons and Pete’s responses to Stede being bullied — the Swede is obviously bullied a lot on the ship now, and Lucius has likely had his own experiences being bullied, whereas Buttons and Pete perhaps not — it doesn’t show us Frenchie and Oluwande sympathising with Stede. Not because they don’t feel compassion for him, I’m not saying they don’t or that they’re likely unaffected by this, but like…

Especially because they are currently literally undergoing a traumatising and unsafe situation because of Stede, ignored by the rest of the white crew and the British interlopers, I’m glad that the camera doesn’t spend time trying to show us them feeling for Stede and his trauma as a child, showing Frenchie and Oluwande like, distracted from what’s currently happening to them to feel sad for Stede. 

In another show, I think that would have been the case? That the Black characters put aside their own literal current suffering to be sad for the white guy’s previous suffering, even though he’s put them in their current predicament?

And I’m just glad that it’s not here. 

I like the contrast of Stede’s flat tone asking if Badminton would like a tour when at the beginning of the episode he enthusiastically led Lucius on a tour, with Lucius’ gaze representing one of Stede’s peers. It’s such a nice little book-end of contrasts between the intro and the beginning of the end of the episode. 

When Badminton comments on the impracticality of the library and all the books falling out, it’s so interesting because like, yes, Stede’s rooms are hugely impractical — in large part because it’s such a huge space with so much loose furniture, which means there’s so much more space for things to slide and shake to when there’s a storm or rough seas. Badminton remembers most about Stede his impracticality and his lack of common sense, and those go hand in hand, I think, with Stede’s gullibility and the ways in which they could presumably trick or manipulate him on top of just, brute force him into X or Y. 

Badminton’s just so confident in his cruelty here, in his utter domination over Stede and his right to speak to him this way, and Stede, hemmed in by his own sense of politeness and propriety, barely says a word to put him off — not just not directly disagreeing or whatever, but he doesn’t even imply that Badminton’s being rude or impolite and put the onus on Badminton to safeguard his reputation, you know?

Stede’s just not deft in these matters, and it’s fucking sad. 

I like the parallel we see of Mary and the children at one end of the dinner table and Stede at the other, the isolation it communicates for Stede, but then the recreation of that close-framed shot up and down the table, of Mary looking coolly at Stede and then looking back to Alma, and cutting to Stede, again with the candlelight taking up some of the shot. It’s such a cool little motif, and so communicative.

It hasn’t come up so much in this episode so far, but I know that Stede does have some body issues that come up later in this ep and the series, and the way that Mary goes, “And which is your favourite pig?” and says the word with that specific emphasis, like… That idea of Stede being lazy, fat, unpleasant, boorish…

I know that the point of this scene in Stede’s sense of rejection and isolation from Mary in the context of the episode, but when you recontextualise it knowing how frustrated Mary is in her own life with Stede’s laziness and how much of her life he takes up, plus the fact that she can’t directly refuse him or say anything about his lack of contribution?

So much depth here. 

I love the music here and the way that Stede stands up for himself just a little bit — “I mean… It’s true.”

And the way we see Badminton raise his head, abruptly become so much more serious before he starts to laugh harder than ever before, and Stede laughs, and he knows he’s being treated so fucking cruelly, he knows it’s the same as what he’s sufered at school, he narrows his eyes, it’s so goddamn tense — 

And then we cut to the Brits and the pirates. 

And fuck me, I love Foad’s performance in the background as Pete is sipping at his drink and doing his big dick bullshit act, because Lucius looks like he wants the sea to swallow him fucking whole, chin against his breast, so small in his seat; the Swede not making eye contact, also freaking out a bit. 

Frenchie in the background, on the other hand, actually looks a bit hype that the Brits are going to offer real commentary on their flags. 

As they go to the next flag Lucius looks like he’s either about to cry or throw up or possibly both, he’s so fucking freaked out, and I’m pretty sure it’s because he knows that the Swede and Pete are going to bicker and potentially blow their cover — Frenchie goes from enjoying a bit of change to grimacing and looking more concerned, and I’m pretty sure he’s realising the same thing too.

Lucius is doing fucking breathing exercises, Frenchie is awkwardly trying to laugh alongside the Brits, and like — 

God.

Anyway, why the fuck does Stede think his little whale paperweight is the ideal to knock the fella out? Oluwande did say like, a blunt, heavy object, but it’s such a small little thing, I know it does the job, but is it just that he wants it to be easily concealed?

BADMINTON: But you were so fat… and soft, and weak. 

STEDE: I thought I was slender. 

BADMINTON: No, no, no, no. No, I recall you were a plumper. 

I’ve seen a few people’s consideration of this scene and the way that the fatphobia is leveraged against Stede when like we saw Stede, and yeah, he was a pretty slim boy — one of the things about fatness leveraged as an insult is that it’s associated so much with a lack of manliness because of this idea that to be fat is to somehow be lazy or less active, but one note I would also point out is the way that fatness goes hand in hand with this idea of softness and weakness — curves, plumpness, like a woman as opposed to a man, the idea that a man should be square and hard, and a woman round and soft, you know?

Stede’s being lied to here and Badminton’s laughing in a way that’s meant to make Stede really doubt himself and his own view of his body, his childhood, but again it’s a jab at his effiminacy, even before Badminton starts talking about Stede’s tears or his enjoying to pick flowers. 

STEDE: (in a whisper) A little bit.

He was soft, yeah, a little bit soft — he did like to pick flowers, a little bit.

He knows that about himself.

And here he is, on a ship where he’s trying to embrace that that’s nothing to be ashamed of, that there was nothing wrong with him, and fuck, like… He’s just being backed into the corner by this ghost of his own past. 

The Brits laughing over Frenchie’s flag makes me sob, because he breaks in with his, “Actually, everyone knows cats are very evil because they steal children’s breath,” and he knows it’s a huge risk and I don’t know if he forgets himself because he was already insecure about his flag or if he just couldn’t handle it, but fuck, the way he flinches and draws back so fucking much, like.

Ugh.

ENGLISH CUNT: Enough interruptions, slave! Your captain may suffer uppity behaviour, but not me! 

And Frenchie’s expression is so fucking serious, is so somber — 

And it’s Jim that breaks.

It’s been pointed out by quite a few people that it’s notable that Jim is the one that breaks and snaps at the Brits when Jim is a person of colour, but they’re the most light-skinned, but like… I’m still glad they did. The dagger through the hand is so good, and so deserved, and Frenchie points and he laughs, and good! Make that man laugh! He deserves it! He deserves a nice time and to see this cunt get skewered in front of him!

Poor Lucius has since fainted and fallen back into his chair, and then, boom, the fight begins.

I think it’s Oluwande that pours a kettle of hot tea into the one Brit’s lap; Buttons holds a razor to another Brit’s throat; Wee John literally breaks down the door and comes in and it’s so hot Kristian Nairn please slide into my DMs just like that; Pete screams “Fuck it!”, Lucius comes to and screams — 

And we cut back to Badminton and Stede listening to the chaos. 

I really love how this show does flashbacks, they’re so well-cut — in Stede’s stuff but also in Ed’s later on, they feel so real and so accurate to how it feels when you’re really processing a traumatic memory in the moment.

The squish when Badminton lands on his sword cracks me up every time. 

I’m gonna be pausing several times in this next sequence to really appreciate the chaos, so like, firstly, we cut to:

Oluwande has his hand around a Brit’s throat, and is threatening to smash his face in, I think with a teapot

Pete is on the other side of the table, holding his little gun at the same fella’s head, and isn’t it nice that Oluwande and Pete are bonding together? 

Frenchie is standing up on the bench wearing a tricorn hat and brandishing his cat flag

Buttons is quaffing wine in the background

The Swede has wrapped another of the Brits in a net and Wee John is helping him

Lucius is hiding almost under the table

And when Stede calls, “Excuse me, you guys? I need a hand with something…” I’m obsessed with how Pete tells everyone to shush and they all go quiet, and it’s Lucius and Oluwande who extricate themselves from the chaos and go to help him out. 

STEDE: I used the stun move.

LUCIUS, sitting in a chair and looking in the other direction because he’s freaked out by the dead body of Nigel Badminton with a sword through his eye: Yeah, no, he looks pretty stunned.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned this specifically so far, but OFMD episode to episode does these fucking great like, dramatic shots where they really make use of the whole shot and like — 

So here, we see Lucius to the right in the foreground, looking horribly stricken and as pale as the hideous suit he’s wearing; Oluwande is stage-left and staring down at Badminton’s body in the middleground; in the centre-background we see Stede in the exact same vulnerable position as Lucius is, knees together, shoulders hunched, barely able to look directly at the body.

It just creates so much fucking depth and and is such a good use of the space and I love it.

Anyway, Oluwande’s face is killing me in this scene. He’s just like, oh, well. He sure did that. 

Even as Stede goes on blabbering about how it was just an accident and he’s leaning forward, Lucius is doing the exact same thing silently in the foreground, and it’s such a clever parallel between the two of them, I really like it. 

OLUWANDE: Hey, hey, hey, this is happening. Okay? Do you want to live? 

Allow me a moment’s distraction with just how attractive Samson Kayo looks in this scene. He looks so good in purple. 

Okay.

STEDE: That’s a tough question. 

OLUWANDE, grabbing him: I said, “Do you want to live?”

STEDE: I think so! … Probably!

OLUWANDE: Well, pull yourself together then! Yeah, because everyone up there wants you dead.

LUCIUS: It’s true.

Lucius Spriggs. My dear and delicious and potentially dead boy. 

Whose side are you on?

(The most important side: his own.)

But God, I love it when Oluwande girlbosses and manipulates and he’s very much notgoing to let Stede fuck this up for him and Jim when Stede’s ship is the safest place for them — I just love how sensibly he orders Stede through not saying that killing Badminton was an accident and Stede is already just destroyed with guilt and not feeling great about it. 

Oluwande’s forearms…

The way the fucking crew looks at Stede after he drops Badminton’s body cracks me up — Buttons is looking at Stede so fascinatedly, Lucius is serious, Jim is unreadable, Frenchie is enjoying himself and loves this violence and good, give my man everything he desires, the Swede is like :o, Roach is having a grand old time, and Pete looks genuinely impressed. 

I love how John says “Respect!” He’s so good. And how Frenchie gags the English cunt from earlier. 

So with the English cunt they do put back on the boat, right — obviously tying his hands to the oars is a parallel to Stede’s own childhood trauma, but what I really like is the three little coconut Brits they put in the back of the tender — you can see Frenchie’s first cat flag making up the chest of one of them, now stained with blood, so I suppose that’s why it goes from Frenchie’s cat licking blood of its paw to Frenchie’s cat on its four paws. 

Roach looks so cute when he wears his chef’s hat and it pushes his hair out at the sides, there’s so much shape there — Pete is so fucking upset about the fact that Stede’s actually done something fucking cool for once, and it cracks me up. Pete and Stede are both just blagging their way through this and it’s so sad for Pete when Stede wins a point. 

PETE: Making us dress up like a bunch of fancy boys?

Um, Pete? Not everyone got dressed up like fancy boys?

There’s another really good shot here that uses the depth of the lens so well -Pete in the foreground, Roach with his arm around Pete and his hand on the Swede’s back, Wee John in the back with the focus on him. 

I don’t think I ever noticed how much Wee John is an authority in the first episode and how much he drives a lot of stuff forward — he keeps quiet a lot, but it’s not because of a lack of strong opinion or consideration. 

There’s this balance here that Stede has to manage between the “nice” things about him that he wants to prioritise and a certain bloodthirstiness, and especially because this specific moment is borne out of deception, it does make you consider the Blackbeard mythos and the weight it puts on Ed’s shoulders, what must have or could have gone on in its construction, you know?

LUCIUS: He’s a terrible captain. 

OLUWANDE: We’re not exactly the best crew though, are we?

Fuck, I love how close they are together in this scene and like… I said before about how much I appreciate the way that Lucius puts himself close to Pete and, separately, Oluwande (and Jim) here because they’re the other queer guys, but here is such a valuable and important moment like… They’re both so close together, and it really is a moment of shared vulnerability because they’re both carrying Stede’s deception, and it is a strategic choice.

Oluwande’s right that they’re not the best crew or a particularly good crew — they’re small and chaotic and ridiculous and a lot of them don’t know what they’re doing; Oluwande wants to make sure he and Jim have a safe place there, whereas Lucius like — 

I wish I knew exactly what he wanted, or what he envisions for himself, because his broader ambitions are kind of an enigma to me. Much to chew on as the episodes go on. 

OLUWANDE: Besides, as long as he’s around, we’re gonna be paid, fed, and we don’t even have to work too hard. 

LUCIUS: (looks at Oluwande, then back at Stede)

OLUWANDE: He’ll be dead soon. We might as well enjoy it while it lasts. 

LUCIUS DOES A SNEAKY LITTLE GLANCE DOWN AT HIS MOUTH BEFORE OLUWANDE LOOKS BACK AT HIM, I SEE YOU, I SEE YOU. 

There’s so much Lucius/Izzy stuff and the obvious Lucius/Pete and Lucius/Fang, but Lucius wants so badly to participate just a little bit in Oluwande and Jim’s dynamic and I for one think we should let the boy be as slutty as he pleases.

Oluwande is so practical and I really think it’s interesting that like… So he obviously has a lot going on trying to ensure he and Jim are in a secure position, but them two and Lucius are the youngest of the crew by like a decade, and it’s great to me that Oluwande is so keenly practical but not because he particularly likes Stede or whatever, like… He’s looking out for himself and Jim, and now he’s sharing his thought process with Lucius and Lucius is engaging with him, and although Lucius is obviously shaken in this scene, I think it’s probably the most comfortable and open in terms of communication he’s been with anybody throughout the episode so far. 

OLUWANDE: Would you rather be captained by that?

And it cuts to Frenchie taunting the Brits, and it’s like… 

That thing of Stede being “one of the good ones” but it’s not even that he’s like, self-aware? It’s that he’s vaguely trying with no idea what he’s doing, he’s going to die over it, but in the meantime, they can get safety and security?

It’s so important to me that Oluwande and Jim are the like, secondary narrators and MCs aside from Stede and Ed because like, it’s just the contrast you need between Stede’s condescension and self-assurance versus like, the facts of the matter, and the crew with their own agency. None of them is with Stede because they’re grateful for Stede’s charity or civilising influence or some other racist bullshit — they’re there because they need the work, they’re being practical, and putting up with Stede Bonnet is safer than putting up with any fucker else. 

LUCIUS: (grimace, slight grunt)

OLUWANDE: Exactly.

Fucking slow pan onto Stede looking out over the ship, sweaty, shaking, crying a little bit, and like…

Here we see the table set up differently — Stede’s place setting and his chair are much closer, they’re not at the end of the table as before, he’s closer to Alma, and all the family are laughing together. 

They’re wearing the same outfits as they were in the other flashback — was it the same night? Was it a different night? Which of those set-ups were more typical of Bonnet family life? Which had the most impact? Which does Stede remember most often?

Stede’s traumatised and his POV comes with so much bias but also is so unreliable, we don’t know exactly what the truth is or how much it stretches, and that kills me, like… Playing High on a Rocky Ledge here while Stede thinks back to Mary and the kids, what are we thinking here? That he regrets leaving them? That he misses Mary?

Because like, I keep going, “Who is Stede writing this diary for? Who is he trying to impress, and get the attention of?” And here’s a verse from High on a Rocky Ledge:

Then spoke a spirit, “If you would win your Lady Love There’s only one way: fall to your death from high above You will begin to grow in snow beside the one You have waited for to be mated with”

(x)

Is that it?

If he risks his life as a pirate, is that what it takes for him to earn all his riches? To prove himself as a real man? Make him no longer lily-livered and soft-handed and weak-hearted? And therefore be worthy of his family, and his wife, by falling to his death?

And no. 

Because Stede doesn’t say, oh, I want to be worthy of her or them. Stede says to himself, “My family’s here now. At sea.”

And like, my guy, that is not what your crew signed up for. They did not sign up for you to be their da, even if they do enjoy that you read them bedtime stories. They did not sign up to be your substitute for your children that didn’t want to play pirates enough for your liking. 

But it’s such an interesting contrast, this song that’s ultimately about a man throwing himself into death and destruction to be with the woman he loves, and Stede is doing that to get the fuck away from her. 

The expectations of hetero society will do that to a man.

I love the choice of Pinocchio as his storybook — I think it’s interesting that Stede reads to the crew from children’s tales (from the future, at that), but obviously Pinocchio is all about someone achieving a level of reality and authenticity that was considered unachievable for him, and that’s so big for both Stede and Ed, I think, in the course of the show, but also for a lot of the crew, what they want from life, goals considered achievable and unachievable, the varities of the self they display to each other, etc.

I really love that Pete’s in a hammock on one side and Frenchie’s on the other and Frenchie’s wearing a little mask over his eyes. Sensitive man. Needs good darkness to sleep by. 

It’s just so — 

Domestic. 

Wee John crying as Lucius looks at him like “um, okay,” all the crew lying on the floor…

And fuck, but the Jim reveal is so good. Jim’s been so much in the background for the entire episode and always there but never like, looked at so closely, and here we see them shake out their hair, remove their nose, lean back, relax without all the fake beard and hat and ephemera. They just look so fucking tired. 

Oluwande’s great knocking on the door — I really like how easily he swaps between telling them to have dinner in English then telling them to eat in Spanish when he knocks on the door, and like, Oluwande just drops food and goes and lets them eat before he zips and I have… feelings about it. 

Roach and the Swede lying close together when they were trying to kill each other earlier is so sweet; I love how Lucius huddles under his blankets and smiles to himself as Stede does the puppet voice better than he could, and obviously we see the first introduction of Karl, who’s standing on Buttons’ head as Button lies back in his own hammock below the British hostages. 

STEDE: Lights out!

WEE JOHN: Can we have just one more?

STEDE: I know you love it, but you’ve got a big day tomorrow, okay? Night night!

Oh, he’s dad. 

And just like he abandoned his real children, he abandons his new fake adult children on his next mental breakdown. 💖 There’s lots of dads who walk out in their families but there’s not many who can do it consecutively like Stede Bonnet can.

Anyway, I love the slow pan up all the crew’s flags because he just can’t pick one, exactly the same energy as the proud dad who just has to put everyone’s drawings on the fridge, and Frenchie’s new cat flag at the top!

Episode directed by Taika Waititi because of course it was. 

I’m really hype to do more close focused readings of the rest of the episodes because like, fuck, there’s so much depth to this show, it’s so fucking well-crafted and I just lose my fucking mind over it. I wish all television was like, even a fraction of how good this show is. 

Thanks for reading! Tune in next time, I guess? 

[abeautifulblog]

gremble watches a hexer: episode 3

So this is the episode in which Geralt meets Renfri, and the vibes are very different from TWN.

It really changes their dynamic to have him be brand new on the Path, and for Renfri to be, in essence, his first extended interaction with a human. He's still trying to figure out what humans are like, he clearly wants to be able to put people in neat boxes -- but there's Renfri complicating the narrative by being undeniably a victim, but also eager and willing to immediately turn around and become a villain in her own right.

It also changes their dynamic that none of Geralt's decisions re: Renfri are motivated by wanting to fuck her. (I'm pretty sure he doesn't, anyway.) Like, she makes that play, when she's looking for a hook that’ll give her a way to control Geralt -- same way we saw her make that play with the thugs planning to kill her in her introductory scene -- but there’s no sense that it’s motivated by desire, just cold calculation.

(And when Geralt's like “uhm, no,” she taunts him and asks if he's incapable of it. She's not a nice person.)

There's no guarantee that they won't fuck later, because compulsory heterosexuality, but she is definitely not being set up like a love interest.

She's quite unlikable in this, and I get the impression that she's supposed to be—that you can pity her, to be sure, because she has indeed been wronged, but she's not a sweet and blameless “ideal victim.”

idk, it's just interesting.

*

FROM THE TOP!

*

Not a fan of threats of sexual violence being used as a plot device, but good on this girl for straight-up stabbing the dude!

(I assume the girl Geralt rescued is Renfri, since the dudes claimed she was a mutant before he killed them.)

*

Hm, and here is Vesemir telling Geralt he shouldn't have stepped in to kill the would-be rapists: “And if there were witnesses to this, what would they think of a crazed witcher cutting down half a dozen people?”

Foreshadowing for Blaviken, much?

Vesemir is ~banished~ from Kaer Morhen, wot? How does that even work? Seems like if you did something bad enough to get “banished” it would be bad enough that they wouldn't trust you on the Path anymore.

*

lol these subtitles are calling the path “the route,” which doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

*

Not really a fan of Renfri's actress or characterization in this one, she comes off like a spoiled child.

...A very mercurial and manipulative child.

*

Hah, I like that Roach has been trained to ignore commands from non-Geralt people. That vibes with my headcanon for why he likes Difficult horses.

*

...lolol okay I did enjoy the bandit jumping out to try to scare them, and then Renfri just bitchslaps him.

Renfri: TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER.

Bandit: I--

Renfri: SILENCE, YOU FUCKING SWINE, I TOLD YOU TO TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER.

Bandit: ...yes ma’am. 😞

*

100% A+ that Geralt carries his saddlebags with him when he goes into town! Yes! As he would! Same as you don't leave your purse sitting your unlocked car!

*

PFFT.

Hooray for Geralt saving a dryad from a basilisk or whatever, after she'd been shot with an arrow!

Oh no the arrow was poisoned!

It's okay, Geralt will suck the poison from the wound!

...It is awkward that she got shot in the tit though.

*facepalm*

It doesn't feel that sleazy, because Geralt doesn't feel sleazy—he's quite utilitarian about the whole business—but that is still a Choice someone made.

*

Oh no, Geralt is about to look “”hideous”” from taking his potions!!

Will it be less of a cop-out than TWN???

Answer: not in the slightest, he just looks like he’s on MDMA.

*

I do wish they would stop trying to force love interests on Geralt every episode, especially since they are developed so staggeringly shallowly, and we all know they're not sticking around anyway.

Also this actress looks VERY, VERY YOUNG, like, that is a child young, like, that could be a boy-child young, because they look the same pre-pubescent.

*

lolol Queen of the Dryads looks like Scully in camo facepaint. Welp, no one better for the job!

*

“I am a witcher, a mutated human. We are not allowed to love; maybe we cannot.”

THIS IS THE KIND OF CONFLICT I'M HERE FOR, BABY. 😎

*

lol I do like the “mama with a shotgun” vibe for the dryad queen. Like, Yes thank you for saving my girl, I appreciate it a lot, and now you are going to let her down gently, and you are going to leave. 🙃🙃🙃

*

The subtitles have definitely gotten better, and despite the excruciatingly tedious compulsory heterosexuality, this episode was a lot livelier than the previous episodes. Would recommend starting with this one, I think. You really don't need any backstory from the first two.

[castillon02]

The Gwent Song

Jaskier pumped his legs harder as he ran towards the stables. He had been late to meet Geralt before, but never this late. Usually they slept in the same lodgings, so Jaskier’s timing wasn’t even an issue! Only Geralt had foregone a room yesterday, because he’d be out all night hunting a bruxa anyway, and the barkeep had promised to pay Jaskier after his performance, but she had been called away about her brother’s runaway sow, and the boy left to pour the drinks hadn’t had the coin to give him his due. Which meant that Jaskier, in turn, hadn’t had the coin for a bed at the inn across town.

He had flirted his way into the bosom and bedsheets of the local blacksmith, but then she’d wanted another round in the morning, and was Jaskier supposed to be a cad and deny her? Him, descend to the absolute height of rudeness, and with such a lovely and generous partner?

Unfortunately, even after the blacksmith had been satisfied, he’d still had to hunt up (and wake up) the barkeep, so as he skidded into the stable, he was already panting his apologies. “Sorry, sorry! There was a missing sow---”

Geralt turned away from Roach and glowered.

Jaskier snapped his mouth shut.

“Roach was tacked and ready to ride half an hour ago,” Geralt said, one of his hands clenching the top of Roach’s stable door with white knuckles. “Now she’s been waiting so long that she’s out of sorts. Fuck off or come with, bard, but don’t hold us up because you can’t be bothered to sow your wild oats to someone else’s fucking schedule.”

Jaskier gasped at the unnecessary disparagement. As if he would ever plant his oats anywhere! He was very careful! “The only oats I hand out are the ones I give to Roach! And speaking of Roach---”

Jaskier might, just maybe, have followed up by expressing some equally unnecessary things about who was the master in Geralt and Roach’s relationship, man or horse.

Geralt, in turn, might then have intimated that he wouldn’t expect a “silk-spoiled little lord” to know anything about equal partnerships or responsibilities to others, and---

Well. Things escalated.

That half an hour’s lateness led to hours of frozen silence on the road. Birds chirped in the trees around them. Frogs sang their squeaky choruses. A doe bleated her mating call. Jaskier and Geralt remained mute.

Jaskier had had about enough of it, not least because Geralt was always going to win a battle in which silence was the weapon. Also, it was a ridiculous thing to fight over. Jaskier couldn’t help being a stupid viscount, the barkeep couldn’t help her brother’s pig taking itself for a walk, and Geralt couldn’t help loving his horse more than anything else.

Jaskier pursed his lips. He plotted his strategy. He made a contemplative humming noise, just to see if this would be easy and he could get Geralt to break by chastising him for daring to exist above the volume of a mouse.

Geralt’s neck twitched as if he’d like to turn it, and his shoulders tightened. Roach, beneath him, flicked her ears. Geralt pet her neck and kept his silence.

No matter. Jaskier had a secret weapon up his sleeve. The one thing that Geralt might like almost as much as Roach.

He strummed his lute with an introductory flourish. “Oh, Gwent is a game with four rows of cards / a game that’s been mastered by this humble bard!”

If anything could get Geralt to talk to him, it would be singing about gwent. Wrongly.

Sure enough, after hearing the first verse, Geralt’s shoulders hunched all the way up to his ears.

Jaskier readied his second salvo. “Surely you can’t refute the words that I sing / about this game of dice that’s been played by kings!” He paused for an excoriation about the six rows or the lack of dice in the actual game.

“Cards,” Geralt muttered, barely audible above Roach’s clip-clopping.

“About this game of cards that’s been played by kings!” Jaskier trilled, incorporating the edit.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, sounding grudgingly approving.

“The commander’s horn doubles all your board’s score / And you’re sure to lose if you play two Reavers or more!”

Geralt slowed Roach so they were walking alongside one another. “Only doubles the points on the row,” he said, looking down on him. “And I know you’ve seen me win with tight-bonded Reavers before.”

“Oh, dear, must’ve forgotten,” Jaskier said breezily, and he sang the edited lines aloud. “Luckily, I have you around to correct me when I’m wrong. One of your natural talents.”

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier---”

“The Nilfgaardian deck always loses in a draaaaaaw / and the clear weather cards don’t affect the player who played them at aaaaaall!” Jaskier bawled out.

“You could only be this inaccurate if you knew the real rules,” Geralt pointed out, amusement leaking into his voice.

“Hmm, it’s almost like I only contravene the rules when I have a decent reason for it. With you, at least,” Jaskier said, and he gave up the slight pretense by adding, “I’m not late just so I can make you and Roach irritable, you know.”

“Hmm.” Geralt went quiet again, but it wasn’t the furious silence from earlier.

Jaskier practiced a tune on his lute that had some tricky little chord changes. If professoring and music tutoring had taught him anything, it was the value of wait time.

“Never know if you’re late or just not showing up,” Geralt finally said, petting Roach’s neck again. “Maybe it’s the day you follow your dick somewhere else.”

Jaskier stopped dead in the road. Not show up? Current lack of reciprocation aside, if his dick had its way, it would be a dowsing rod that only led to White Wolfs. “What? No, what? Sorry, stop, stop for a fucking minute!” He hustled forward and tugged at Geralt’s boot in its stirrup. “Wait. Geralt---”

Geralt reined Roach in, but he frowned and looked away from him. “Not gonna follow an old Witcher forever,” he said.

“What the fuck,” Jaskier said, because yes he fucking was. Except for when Geralt got tired of him, or Jaskier had a contract somewhere else, or Geralt left for the winter, or---it didn’t matter. Jaskier clasped Geralt’s bony, leather-covered knee. “Look,” Jaskier said. “Our paths may diverge sometimes, but I would never leave without saying goodbye. And I would always hope to see you again and travel again by your side. I could never just leave. Why---Geralt, I would never---”

But Geralt would. He had, in the beginning of their acquaintance, wandered off without saying a word while Jaskier was distracted, and Jaskier had had to ask around to follow him. Surely this was emulation, a habit Geralt had gained from someone else.

Who had left a younger Geralt without even a word of farewell?

More broadly, how many folk observed a Witcher’s comings and goings without saying a damn word? Not even a “Melitele’s blessing” or a “Gods be with ye”! No wonder Geralt felt he wouldn’t be missed.

“I will always say goodbye,” Jaskier promised, looking up at Geralt. “Even if we fight worse than two gravehags over a cemetery, I’ll say something.”

Geralt’s lips twitched. On that particular contract, he and Jaskier had gone to the cemetery only to stumble upon the grave hags already doing most of Geralt’s work for him. All he’d had to do was kill the victor, which had made a distinct ‘oh fuck’ face upon seeing a Witcher but had been too tired to do anything but be decapitated. It was one of the first times Jaskier had seen Geralt laugh.

“I mean it,” Jaskier said. “‘Goodbye.’ ‘Toodle-oo.’ ‘Good luck on the Path.’ ‘See you around, Geralt.’” He waggled his fingers. “If I don’t say anything and I don’t show up---and this is crucial, mind you---then it means that something has gone awry and you should go looking for me.”

“Because someone’s trying to string you up by your balls again,” Geralt offered. Roach stamped impatiently underneath him.

Not wanting to test Roach’s goodwill, Jaskier let go of Geralt’s knee and started walking again. “Or someone’s sow got out of the pen and this has resulted in an improbable chain of events that has caused my tardiness. And you never know, it might be that a Witcher could wake a barkeep up faster than a bard, which might have helped this morning, though I do pride myself on the effectiveness of my volume,” he said.

“Hmm,” Geralt said. He tapped Jaskier’s shoulder with his boot and raised dubious eyebrows.

“All right, the ball-stringing is also a possibility. I’ll admit it, they are very nice balls, anyone might want them to add that special touch to their decor.”

Geralt snorted.

“Oh-ho! Do I detect a scintilla of skepticism? A drop of dubiousness? An iota of---”

“---Could tell me ahead of time if something’ll keep you,” Geralt interrupted. He kept Roach walking next to Jaskier even though she tossed her head over the slow pace.

Jaskier paused. “Weeeellllll,” he said. “Could I? Or would you say,” he gruffed up his voice, “‘Damn it, Jaskier, just meet me in the next town when you’re done fucking around!’ and be on your merry way?”

Unfortunately, being a dick to Geralt and keeping him out of the loop also meant taking advantage of the fact that Geralt’s curiosity or anxiety or what-have-you usually kept him where Jaskier wanted him.

Geralt frowned. “Hmm. Don’t have time for,” he waved an expansive hand over Roach’s ears, “idiocy. But if you need your coin---something important...I could take care of Roach instead of saddling her and making her wait. Or I could do some heavy lifting for someone.”

He could wait for a foolish bard while still using the time wisely, in other words. But only, Geralt implied with a heavy glance, if he wasn’t waiting for said fool bard to show up ‘any minute now.’

Jaskier cringed. Yes, Geralt had overreacted and had his moments of dickishness, but Jaskier had also been an absolute member. A complete genital. A full-blown reproductive organ. “I’ll tell you, then,” he said to Geralt. “If something comes up. And you keep in mind that if you haven’t been told, or bade farewell to, then I haven’t run off to sing about some other sexy Witcher down the way, but am instead somewhere in your vicinity, potentially running from ball-snatchers.”

Geralt smirked down at him. “A sexy Witcher? Good luck finding one of those.”

“Did I say sexy?” Jaskier asked, widening his eyes innocently. “I meant scary. Terrifying. Real boot-shakers. So intimidating that I simply must correct that lyric from earlier before you do some Witchering at me for the inaccuracy. The Nilfgaardian deck always wins in a draw… Hang on, the second line actually takes a bit of rephrasing, but I’ll get it. I don’t give up, you know!”

“I’m aware,” Geralt said long-sufferingly, but with another playful tap of his boot-tip to Jaskier’s shoulder. “How many verses to this song are there, anyway?”

“Hmm. There are only so many rules to gwent, so you’d think there are only so many potential correct verses,” Jaskier said, rubbing his chin.

“But?” Geralt prompted.

“But on the other hand, I can make up as many fake rules as I want to! So the answer is, there are as many verses as we need.” Jaskier smiled uncompromisingly at Geralt. “You know. In case we run into another sow situation. People prepare all they can, building strong, ahem, interpersonal fences, but sometimes the pig still gets into the garden.”

“Or the grave hags get into the cemetery,” Geralt said with a little upward curve to his lips. He was quiet for a short while, the comfortable clip-clop of Roach’s hooves anchoring the other forest sounds, until abruptly he said, “Probably the truest song you’ve ever sung. The gwent one. Glad to make sure it stays that way. Even with---” He made a chopping motion with his hand.

“The times when we’re both being pig-headed and hag-minded?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt nodded.

It was as much of a declaration as Jaskier had ever heard from him. “Well, I know how much you care about the facts,” he said, touched. “I’ll be happy to sing the right version as long as you’re there to remind me which one that is.”

“Hmm. Still haven’t finished the line about the weather cards,” Geralt said, and then he spurred Roach into a trot.

Probably this was so he didn’t have to look at the stupid grin on Jaskier’s face. “And the clear weather cards clear the weather for aaaaall!” Jaskier sang out, as jubilant as a clarion.

Grumpiness and dickishness happened, but so did gwent and music and caring. They would make it through any storms of temper as long as they could talk it through. And if talking wasn’t happening? Jaskier had a song for that.

---

[Note: When they meet up again after The Mountain(TM), Jaskier gives Geralt the silent treatment. Geralt, after an immense sigh, starts singing a song made of wrong lute facts for Jaskier to correct, which is how Jaskier knows that Geralt really does want to reconcile. :D] 

[Also on AO3] 

[definitelyyessnakedemons]

a list of the partially-written things i have laying around in my documents:

a fic in which Yennefer and Tissaia adopt a baby together

“Baby Roach 3: There’s a Baby Roach Loose in Kaer Morhen” which is approximately half written

part of a scene which will probably end up being put in “Baby Roach 5″ (none of “Baby Roach 4″ is written yet, but it has a specific theme which this partially written scene does not fit. it also does not fit part 3.)

“Dancing in the Rain of Descending Ash” ch 6

a heckin’ awkward dialogue exchange for a Carmilla/Raman soulmate AU

“From a Shell” ch 28 (still in rough outline form at the moment)

the introductory sentence to what was supposed to be the main fic in the three fandom pileup crossover that is “Several Concurrent Apocalypses: Aftermath”

1 scene and 2 partial scenes from the second chapter of “Be Thou Bound”

the beginnings of parts 4 & 5 of “In the Grey of the Morning”

first 3 sentences of “Legacy” ch 4

approx 15% of ch 4 of “Mother of Little Bears”

two sentences of the next chapter of “Sidelines”

some dialogue exchanges from a fic in which a very depressed angel OC shows up in Aziraphale’s shop

part of a scene from a future installment (but not part 4) of “too late for whispers”/”too late for the blush”

partially written (but still mostly in rough outline form) body horror fill for the phoenix wright kink meme

beginning of the 4th installment of “While I Turn to Sand”

a fic in which at the end of s2, Hector tricks Carmilla into turning him into a vampire. (this is not a happy story)

nearly 3k words of a thing i’m just calling “the horrible thing” and probably won’t even post if/when it’s finished

a fic in which the title is longer than the single line of dialogue i’ve written for it

a fic in which Carmilla and Hector have a very bad time and almost get killed on their way to Styria, and end up being saved by Trevor and Sypha, and things only get more awkward from there

partial fill for the phoenix wright kink meme in which the challenge is to write a sex scene without using a single adjective or adverb..... it is not going well so far, but i am determined!!

Pet Shop of Horrors/Castlevania crossover in which Count D visits a rival pet shop to tell Hector to stop resurrecting kids’ dead pets with necromancy

an Isaac/Hector fic in which Isaac is a selkie, which further complicates things because Hector seems to like him a lot better when he’s a seal

drabble about Seras’s plasma arm

a dumb joke that i’m going to have build a fic backwards around

the second installment of “The Secret Dance of Snakes”

several documents that are blank except for the fic titles, as i have 0% of the next chapter written for them

the scrap file, which currently has nearly 9k words of various lines and scenes cut from my fics which i’ve saved in case i want to use them for something else later, but they just weren’t working out in what i was trying to write

[bunkershotgolf]

Little Linksters™ “Best Pee-Wee Golf Swing in the World” Video Contest Marks its 10th Year! Our Winners Are…In a contest year like no other, kids from across the world recorded and sent in their golf swings and boy did we get some great entries! Little Linksters™, LLC, The Little Linksters™ and the Association for Junior Golf Development rolled out the tenth installment of their Annual Best “Pee Wee” Golf Swing in the World Video Contest in the early part of this year, and had to, like all of us, endure the twists and turns of this year in the process.

After all of this, Little Linksters™ and the contest judges are pleased to present our winners! Under 3 Division… 1st Place- JACK CANTIN (Canada, 1 Year Old) 2nd Place- STEPHEN LIMPACH (Florida, USA 2 Years Old) T-3rd Place- RIAAN AYOOBI (Australia, 2.5 Years Old) T-3rd Place- NICHOLAS GOMEZ (Texas, USA, 2 Years Old)

3-4 Years… 1st Place- VAUGHN COLEMAN (South Carolina, USA, 4 Years Old) 2nd Place- PENNY ROACH (Canada, 4 Years Old) 3rd Place- SANIA BHAMBANI (California, USA, 4 Years Old)

5-6 Years… 1st Place- THANDAN KONGSIRI (Texas, USA, 5 Years Old) 2nd Place- BOND HOGAN (Australia, 5 Years Old) T-3rd Place- KEEGAN CARBRAY (Illinois, USA, 5 Years Old) T-3rd Place- CAMDEN GUYTON (Georgia, USA, 6 Years Old)

7-8 Years… 1st Place- CARERON AMEN (California, USA, 7 Years Old) 2nd Place- ABIGAIL THAMBIRAN (South Africa, 7 Years Old) 3rd Place- TREBOR MELENDEZ (New Jersey, USA, 7 Years Old)

9-10 Years… 1st Place- ERIC CHAVEZ (California, USA, 10 Years Old) 2nd Place- ALISON OH (Virginia, USA, 10 Years Old) T-3rd Place- JADEN SOONG (California, USA, 9 Years Old) T-3rd Place- OWEN FONG (Canada, 10 Years Old)

11-12 Years… 1st Place- ALEX ZHANG (Canada, 11 Years Old) 2nd Place- MACIE RASMUSSEN (Virginia, USA, 11 Years Old) 3rd Place- CONNOR BRYCE (Texas, USA, 12 Years Old)

WATCH THE WINNERS VIDEO PRESENTATION HERE: https://youtu.be/2kJGTjx2fWY

This was the tenth straight year Little Linksters™, LLC, along with the Little Linksters™ Association for Junior Golf Development (501c3) has hosted this kid-centric contest. Once again, this year, some very heavy hitters from the golf world joined the cause, including World Golf Hall of Fame members, Jack Nicklaus and Annika Sorenstam, and PGA Tour Star, Jordan Spieth. They will join a team of US and International based PGA and LPGA teaching professionals. The judges include, US Kids Golf Top 50 instructors Michelle Holmes, Zoe Allen from Ireland, and Tom Reid from the UK, as well as acclaimed Canadian Instructor, Jason Helman. They all will join the contest’s host, and Little Linksters founder, Brendon Elliott, who was named the PGA’s National Youth Player Development award winner in 2017.

This popular contest allows parents to upload a video to YouTube of their “Little Linksters” swing. Videos this year were submitted from January through the end of July and winners were crowned in four age groups—ranging from ages 3 to 12. Voting was conducted by a panel of industry veterans and experts. This is an inclusive contest, with fun at its center point, so all children, regardless of ability are always encouraged to submit their swings!

“In what has been an incredibly challenging year in many respects, we were determined to once again offer this opportunity to children and showcase to the golf world what the youngest among us can do with a golf club. This contest is primarily about fun and celebrating a game that is blind to age…kids as young as two years of age can love this game and we see that year in and year out.” explained PGA Professional Brendon Elliott, founder of Little Linksters™, LLC and Little Linksters™ Association for Junior Golf Development. “Over the years, we have been very humbled to have had such a recognized and esteemed celebrity panel of judges including Jordan Spieth, Lydia Ko, Brooke Henderson, Andrew “Beef” Johnston, Tony Jacklin, Annika Sorenstam, Hank Haney, Kelly Sheehan, Lexi Thompson, Jim McLean, Win McMurry, Paula Creamer, Nicole Weller, Chuck Evans, Brittany Lincicome, Gary Player, Jack Nicklaus, Keegan Bradley, Mark Bradley, Allen Wronowski, Frank Nobilo, David Leadbetter, Michelle Wie and Holly Sonders.” added Elliott. 

This year’s contest saw just shy of 200 entries poured in from over 15 countries from around the world. Elliott, is a US Kids Golf Top 50 Kids Teacher (2010, ‘11 and ’12), a 2013 US Kids Golf Top 50 Master Kids Teacher, a four- time NFPGA Junior Golf Leader award winner (2011-14), as well as a five-time Top 50 Growth of the Game Teacher as named by the Golf Range Association, was named the PGA of America’s National Youth Player Development award winner in 2017. More recently, Elliott was named a 2019 GRAA Top 50 Elite Status Growth of the Game Teacher and one of Orlando Family Magazine’s 2019 Men of the Year. Brendon leads the judging of the Best Pee Wee Swing contest each year. He was assisted by this year’s celebrity panel of judges. 

Taking part in the 2020 campaign were:

• Jack Nicklaus— World Golf Hall of Fame member and the man that holds the record for the most major championship titles in the men’s game. Known to many as the best male golfer of all time. Mr. Nicklaus is making his fourth appearance as a judge in the Best Pee Wee Swing Contest.

• Annika Sorenstam— Also a World Golf Hall of Fame member. She is regarded as one of the best female golfers in history. She won 90 international tournaments as a professional, making her the female golfer with the most wins to her name. She won 72 official LPGA tournaments including ten majors and she tops the LPGA's career money list with earnings of over $22 million. Annika is also making her fourth appearance as a judge.

• Jordan Spieth— Jordan is a three-time major winner and the 2015 FedEx Cup champion. In April 2016, Time magazine named Spieth to its list of the "100 Most Influential People", noting that he "exemplifies everything that's great about sports." Spieth's first major win came in the 2015 Masters Tournament where he became the second youngest golfer (behind Tiger Woods) to win the Masters. He then won the 2015 U.S. Open with a score of 5-under-par. He was the youngest U.S. Open champion since amateur Bobby Jones in 1923. This will be Jordan’s third time as a judge in our contest.

• Michelle Holmes— One of the very brightest instructors in the junior golf instruction arena. A multiple award- winning teacher, Michelle is the owner of the Michelle Holmes School of Golf at Cahoon Plantation. Michelle serves the greater Williamsburg, Virginia Beach and Outer Banks area but has an ever-increasing influence around the world. This is her third straight year as a judge. Among her numerous awards, Michelle is a US Kids Golf Top 50 Master Kids Instructor.

• Zoe Allen— Another of the very brightest up and comers in the junior golf instruction arena. A multiple award- winning teacher, Zoe is the owner of Zoe Allen Golf at Lurgan Golf Club in Lurgan, Northern Ireland. Zoe won the distinction of being named a US Kids Golf Top 50 Master Kids Instructor this past January at the PGA Merchandise Show in Orlando, FL. This is her third year as a judge.

• Tom Reid— US Kids Top 50 Instructor, Tom Reid hails from the U.K. Tom is a former Touring Professional that has made a significant impact in the junior golf arena in Europe over the past few years. Formerly an instructor at the highly acclaimed Wentworth Club, Tom is now the senior teaching professional at Stoke Park Golf and Country Club. Tom is a lead in the Leadbetter Kids program, which is a youth program from the David Leadbetter Academy. • Jason Helman— Over the past 25+ years as a Golf Professional, Jason has made his mark in Canada as a top instructor and golf coach. His passion for the game, pride in his students, and their willingness to learn and develop as golfers or athletes so they can reach their highest pinnacle in the game are what drives him. He said, “All I want is for my students to succeed, whether they’re 5 years old or a tour professional.” Jason is the 2010 PGA of Canada National Teacher of the Year as well as the 2016 PGA of Canada Professional National Development Award Recipient.

The Little Linksters™ golf program in Central Florida was originally designed specifically for children ages 3 to 8 years old but has expanded in recent years to include ages up to 18 and children of all abilities. The introductory program is taught in a fun and interactive way, using both traditional and non-traditional instructional methods to ensure children’s first introduction to golf is FUN! The Little Linksters™ Association for Junior Golf Development, a 501c3 nonprofit in conjunction with AAU, is continuing to develop a national program that will enable teaching professionals from across the country to grow their business and the game of golf with a proven program that combines a child-friendly approach, a complete program curriculum, and uses items from some of the industry’s best training aid and junior golf equipment companies. One of the Association’s most prized projects, called G.O.A.L.S. (Golf Outreach Advances Life Skills) is specifically aimed at introducing children ages 3-12+ with special needs to the game of golf. In doing so, children will learn valuable life skills that will help them throughout their life. The Special Olympics of Central Florida is a proud partner of Little Linksters™ efforts with this program. Support of the G.O.A.L.S. program has also come from the Alliance for Accessible Golf as well as Jordan Spieth and the Jordan Spieth Family Foundation.

Little Linksters has added additional programming in 2020 that touches children ages 3-10 as well as 11-16 that are in economically challenged situations and that may have never had an opportunity such as those that Little Linksters™ offers, to play golf. “Golf is more than a game; it is a tool to teach young children so much more and we hope to use this tool to enhance the lives of as many children as possible explains Elliott, Little Linksters™ founder and Executive Director.

To help the nonprofit, Little Linksters Association for Junior Golf Development contact them at nonprofit@littlelinksters.com To donate go to Little Linksters™ go here: https://littlelinksters.com/donate/

To become a corporate sponsor, contact Executive Director Brendon R. Elliott, PGA at brendonelliott@pga.com

For more information about the “Best Pee-Wee Golf Swing in the World” Video Contest or the Little Linksters™ Association for Junior Golf Development, please visit www.littlelinksters.com or contact Brendon Elliott at BrendonElliott@pga.com or by phone at (321) 278-1612.