#Standard Audio Description

[vicaps]

standard audio description

Vicaps' Standard Audio Description service is a game-changer for media accessibility. By providing detailed audio narrations of visual content, Vicaps ensures that blind and visually impaired individuals can fully enjoy movies, TV shows, and educational videos. This service meets rigorous industry standards, offering clear and engaging descriptions of actions, settings, and expressions. Ideal for content creators and broadcasters, Vicaps' audio description not only expands your audience but also demonstrates a commitment to inclusivity and accessibility.

[xwhitenoise]

So I’ve started on Neverafter, right, and despite being sort of a baby when it comes to more grotesque horror elements I’m enjoying it so far

but some of the content warnings are for things that are... honestly really trivial and would not have warranted timestamped warnings in any other season, and I feel like they make the idea of content warnings themselves seem kind of frivolous and silly overall. Which is. The opposite of what they should be doing.

[adasitecompliance]

Video Accessibility Guidelines

Making Your Videos Accessible: A Step-by-Step Guide

Video content has grown into the most popular form of content available online. It does not matter if you have an educational institution, a banking app, a school, or a blog post. Videos are the most consumed form of content. Unfortunately, 15% of the world’s population finds accessing and consuming the content challenging. And it is because of their disabilities. This is why video creators should create accessible videos to level the playing field and let all their visitors access their online media. Follow Video Accessibility Guidelines for an inclusive online presence.

How can we make videos accessible?

Multiple things can be done, like the right video players, adding captions, and using the right colors and fonts. This needs time and effort; if you need help, we at ADA Site Compliance can help. We are the #1 source for all ADA website compliance issues and can make your video accessible to all users. We have a team of accessibility experts on hand to check the video’s dialogue for accessibility and perform the appropriate measures to ensure compliance.

Web Content Accessibility Guidelines

The Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG) was first published in 1999 to make web content available to users with disabilities. It was published by the World Web Consortium, and complying with WCAG 2.0 guidelines ensures governmental organization websites and media are accessible and compliant.

Who Benefits from Accessible Videos?

In addition to users with disabilities, other users may prefer watching the video without sound, like while in the library or at night when children are asleep. In this case, accessible videos with captions make a better choice for them.

Checklist to Create Accessible Video Content

Videos everyone can access can go a long way to getting people to view your fantastic content. It expands the reach of your content as the message is conveyed through images, sound, speech, and words on the screen.

The following tips are based on the WCAG and help ensure people with visual, hearing, or cognitive disabilities connect with your content.

1. Media alternative transcript

These are text transcripts describing what is displayed in the video displayed with the speech. Thus, blind users or those with visual loss can easily see alt text and access the video using screen readers.

2. Standard and Extended Audio Descriptions

Standard audio description is an audio description of the visual elements of a video created for the benefit of users with vision loss. Its voice track is written and recorded to fit the gaps between the existing dialogues and audio elements. A voice artist will record, or you can generate a synthetic voice of the final audio description. Extended audio descriptions are used in cases where the video does not have enough natural gaps within the soft track. The video is edited to pause at certain points to accommodate the secondary audio track description and ends up increasing the length of the final video.

3. Use an accessible media player

It is not just the content of video recording that has to be accessible for web accessibility. It also requires that the right accessible video player is used to relay the video content.

4. Adding Captions to Your Social Media Videos

Adding captions to your social media videos increases its web accessibility by:

Communicating your message better as words run with the speaker makes it easier for silent scrollers to enjoy your valuable content.

Making content accessible to everyone, even the hearing-impaired, as they can access the video.

Making content more engaging through moving captions to increase consumer interaction and attention.

5. Remove Autoplay From Videos

Autoplay can be distracting and even an obstacle to people with disabilities. They find it challenging and distracting to read the page with video playing while reading. Besides, the risk of videos hurting people with seizures makes auto video-playing a threat. This can be prevented by ensuring the video is played only when clicked.

6. Make High-Quality Audio

The video and audio must go in sync with your video. Quality voiceovers and a pleasant audio experience are important for accessibility and an overall user experience. Besides, WCAG requires reduced background music to cater to users with hearing or cognitive difficulties.

7. Closed Transcripts and Captions

Your video and audio content should include a caption file relating to every spoken message and non-speech sound. This means the captions should include song descriptions and indicate the tone while speaking, too. It is also always better to provide transcript documents for easy access by users with disabilities.

8. Don’t Forget an Audio Description or Voiceover

Your audio description can be compared to a podcast serving the same purpose. It delivers information without the viewer needing to visualize any information. Audio descriptions are better than transcripts for blind users or the visually impaired. Adding audio or video recording to descriptions may seem uncomfortable to some but becomes second nature once done.

9. Choose and Use the Right Video Colors

With about 7% of Americans having color vision deficiencies, the wrong color choices may lead to them not enjoying your artwork. Users suffering from color blindness find distinguishing between blue and red challenging. It is impossible to rebrand to eliminate colors, but avoid mixing red, blue, and green while creating relevant or meaningful videos. Using contrast-checking tools helps ensure you use the perfect text combinations for those with color vision to access important visual details in your content.

10. Mindfulness in Video Design

The accessibility of your visual content also depends a lot on its design. The wrong choice, like an overly busy video, can make it difficult for users with disabilities to access your video. On the contrary, there are some steps to adopt to ensure your video is design-friendly to cater to your entire audience:

Avoid placing text in places where closed captions will be placed. Too much text clutters the screen, making it challenging for those requiring closed captions. So remember where closed captions will appear before placing that text and place it accordingly.

Avoid having quick transactions or successive bright flashes in videos. It ensures your videos are safe for users with photo sensitivities and prevents possible epileptic seizures. Besides, avoiding flashing also helps users with autism, ADHD, and those recovering from a concussion.

Choose and use the right colors.

Including representations in content like casting or including disabled people or animated characters also helps. While it may not directly increase your video accessibility, disabled users enjoy seeing their representations in the message.

While these are easy and minute changes to implement, they make a lot of difference in your video accessibility.

11. Open, Closed, and Auto Captions and Subtitles

These terms are often used interchangeably and are minimally different. Subtitles display dialogues in a language different from what is spoken in the video. Open captions are found in the video, and are impossible to disable or remove. Closed captions can be activated or switched off if need be.

12. Include Video Descriptions on Social Media

Users with impairments read your content easily through a detailed breakdown of your shared video. The visually impaired people can easily read the video descriptions with the help of screen reading software. Just be very clear and thorough about everything in your content while writing a detailed video description. And remember that video descriptions vary on each social media platform. For example, Facebook includes videos in its description page, while Twitter requires you to enable video descriptions in options.

Conclusion

Many people have inaccessible social media videos mainly because of a lack of awareness. And those who do know about web accessibility do not do it because of the time and effort needed. Put some additional time and effort into creating accessible video content. However, it is well worth it because it avoids an accessibility lawsuit. Besides, if you do not have the time or do not know how to make your videos accessible, we can help. We at ADA Site Compliance are your #1 source for all ADA video compliance issues and can make your videos accessible to all users. Our team of accessibility experts is always at hand to check the accessibility and perform the appropriate remediation of your videos so that you can focus on doing what you do best!

[howbrightthemoon]

The audio description of the carriage scene, Bridgerton s3 ep 4

No one asked lol but here is the audio description of the best scene in television carriage scene from episode 4. I LOVE the description so much; it just adds a little extra layer to the scene, especially what's going on in Colin's head and the interactions during the intimate moments.

"What if I did have feelings for you?" "What?" He fixes her with a desperate stare. He drops to his knees in front of her. [...] "It is everything I have wanted to say to you...for weeks." 'But...Colin, we are friends." "Yes, but we..." He searches her face with wild shining eyes. [...] "But I'd very much like to be more than friends. So much more." He leans in close, bringing his face to hers. They share a scorching kiss. He wraps his arm around her waist. They separate for a brief moment, then share several deep, slow kisses. She runs her hands up to his face and down his chest. They pause, regarding each other in wonder. She brushes her fingers over the curves of his ear and rakes her hand through his hair. His open mouth curves upward in an ardent smile. He presses his lips to hers, flattening her against the back of her seat. His hands (ride?) up her skirt, coming to rest at her hips. She grips his lapel as they kiss fervently. He pulls back and slowly slips one of her puffed sleeves down along the creamy skin of her shoulder. He brushes his lips over her throat, and the yielding flesh below. He skims his hand down and squeezes her lush breast through her sparkling bodice. She rests her hand on his, looking down with her pink lips parted. His hand slowly slides down to her thigh. She finds his mouth with hers. He pulls back. They lock eyes, heaving. He looks down. He gently lifts the hem of her dress to palm the smooth curve of her calf. He meets her pleading eyes. She nods. He gathers the sparkling fabric in his fist. He softens his fingers as he slips them past her knee and beneath the folds of her skirts. They keep their eyes fixed on each other. Her mouth drops open. Her eyes widen, then drift closed. She clutches him convulsively. He watches her flushed face. Their open mouths meet. He catches her lip between his. She arches her neck and pulls him close. Her lips find his. They share several long, smoldering kisses.

And the very last line got me.

"For God's sake, Penelope Featherington, are you going to marry me or not?" Penelope's bosom swells. A smile blooms on her face.

UGH it's so beautiful. I know it's not ao3 standard, but it just really heightens the tension and intimacy of the scene. Can't wait to see the mirror scene next.

Does anyone have stats on how many times the carriage scene has been rewatched lmao

[ladytabletop]

Do you happen to have any resources regarding accessibility in ttrpg design? About design, colours, phrasing of text or anything else that could be helpful!

I spent wayyyyy too long compiling all this - but it's important, and I appreciate you asking!!

Accessibility is a subject near and dear to my heart, and I will say up front that I'm not sure universal (aka accessible to everyone) design is possible, because people's needs can vary even within the same subset of similar disabilities (such as limited vision or blindness). BUT that doesn't mean we don't try to design for and make our games available to as many people as possible. Mismatch by Kat Holmes is a great read on design for accessibility in general, as is Invisible Women by Caroline Criado Perez. You might also check out literally anything Alice Wong has ever done.

To start, I recommend this article on the Lenses of Accessibility.

(for reference, this article is about web/graphic design, so I'm going to try and distill the most salient points for game design)

We are going to primarily focus on a few of these lenses:

Color

Font

Images & Icons

Layout

Readability

Structure

Keyboard

More details under the cut.

Color

Why does color matter? Well, for starters, there's a lot of colorblind people out there. Contrast affects readability. Autistic people and people who suffer from occular migraines might be affected by particular vivid colors. There's lots of reasons to consider color and the work it is doing in your piece, but in general you can provide a black and white, high contrast version of your game to help users.

There are tools out there to figure out if your contrast meets certain readability standards, such as this one.

Font

Dyslexia and other visual processing issues can make font choice really important. Plus, some fonts really affect readability. Additionally, line height, justification, and size of text can affect readability.

Best practice would be to provide a plain-text version of your game (and beware of "dyslexia-friendly" fonts which may or may not actually help - sticking to a basic readability font like Arial, Tahoma, or Verdana, is safest). I like this style guide for reference.

Images & Icons

For visually-impaired people, it's important to use alt-text, descriptions, and/or captions to help screenreaders properly translate images. Tons and tons of details that could go into this, but there are better people than me to describe it.

Layout

We've talked about this a bit, but there's tons of resources for this. There was recently a great writeup about Yazeba's Bed and Breakfast in terms of layout that I highly recommend.

Readability

More of the thing we've already talked about - it really is a combination of all the other lenses that comes down to readability. Audio versions of your game are always a good way to avoid the restrictions of screen readers, but can be expensive to produce.

Structure

This is tables. Tables are a nightmare for screenreaders, but including them as images can also be a problem. The short solution is "don't use tables" but that's not necessarily great for seeing people. The section in this blog is really great when talking about options for structure.

Keyboard

Debated on whether to include this, but given how many games are being read as purely digital files, I think it's important to have workable interactive elements that can be navigated through without a mouse. Some of that is going to come down to the programs being used to open your files. But if there are things you can do on your end (such as labeling form fillable fields on an interactive character sheet), they're worth doing!

Please understand that this isn't an exhaustive list. There's tons of resources out there and technology and standards are constantly changing.

It's also is important to note that even doing one of these things is helpful. You might look at this list and go "wow that's too hard" but I promise you, it's worth it. My games do not all have accessible versions! That's something I'm trying to rectify. The biggest part of that for me is thinking about accessibility from the start instead of at the end! But we can start today, and that's better than not starting.

The most important thing to remember are that disabled people are NOT a monolith - needs will differ from person to person. Accessible design makes gaming better for everyone!

Final Resources:

Accessibility in InDesign

Accessible-RPG

A11Y

Accessible Design for Teams

[wheelie-sick]

really weird ask,

I like subtitling video's and clips and such, and what's like your favourite type of subtitles?

I try to be descriptive as possible, but I want to know if there's any like "oh you should do this" or "this formatting is actually really nice"

because I love subtitling things, and I like making things accessible

I usually do it for shows and such that don't have the subtitles available yet, I don't do it often. but I do it more than not.

so yeah, super weird ask.

some of these are actual subtitling standards some are just personal preference

subtitles should be 3 lines of text maximum but ideally 1-2

subtitles should be readable against the background. this usually means having a highlight box for them. I personally still find the ones with an outline hard to read if they're going fast, I prefer the highlight.

subtitles should be either size adjustable or large enough that the majority of people can read them. small subtitles are terrible

subtitles should never block a person's face or important information. it's so annoying to have to read the subtitles, go back several seconds, and turn off subtitles just to see something on a screen. likewise other information should not cover subtitles so like on tiktok and Instagram this means not putting them where the description and likes will cover them

subtitles shouldn't move around the screen unless it's being done to avoid covering information

subtitles should actually include what's being said in other languages, not just a translation or "speaking [language]"

I personally really despise the word-by-word subtitles where only one or a few words are shown at a time

I personally find colored subtitles really annoying to read

descriptions of sounds usually go in brackets (e.g [floorboards creak]) I really prefer that sounds get distinguished from dialogue somehow.

on that note don't describe every sound or else it becomes too much, only describe key sounds to understanding a scene (e.g if a character is being snuck up on and the only indication is the sound of footsteps that's important to subtitle but the if a character is walking on screen and there's nothing particularly notable about it? don't subtitle the footsteps)

I have mixed feelings on dialogue indicators (e.g bob: I love cats) they can be helpful if it's not clear who's talking but I'd say avoid them if who's talking is implied

please please please if it looks like a character is talking and there's no audio add an indication of silence!! sometimes I think that a character's dialogue just wasn't subtitled and then I turn up the volume and learn that the sound just cut out for that part of the scene

that's all I can think of right now. thank you for taking the time to subtitle things!!!

[metalichotchoco]

Robots and their voices

Get ready because this is a long one ;]

A lot of the time characters are defined by their voices but with ai/ robotic characters this works overtime since it’s usually the only outlet into their emotions or character. They can get away with being an off screen presence since they typically aren’t psychical in nature. For all purposes in most cases they are nothing but their voice

Like with Hal, the only way we receive information about this character in visual mediums is his voice. It’s soothing like a lullaby, careful with even tones,smooth.Prideful in the sense of confidence not arrogance. You can hear his ego at being a perfect machine but it’s not boastful there’s no smirk when he says that. It’s how he views himself. You can imagine Hal with a soft smile for most of the movie, trying not to alarm staff. Only at the end does his voice get small, when he pauses for more time than normal as if to take a breath you cannot hear and that he does not need.

Edgar is loud and brash when feeling intense emotion which is a lot. He’s screechy and almost awkward in tonality. When he’s in a better mood he’s still peppy and small sounding. A sense of confusion is what a lot of lines read as but once he looks it up or figures it out, he’s much lower and monotone. With the Cinderella dialogue it sounds like he’s reading the information straight off the website he found it from.hes hot and cold he’s immature. A pest more than a true menace, due to his “newness” he doesn’t talk down to the humans in the movie but he’s underhanded and petty, craving love and attention and begging to be heard. A lot of the time you can hear his voice sort of breaking. It’s probably an audio issue from the time the movie was made, a filter over the actors voice but it works incredibly well for him.

Glados and her lines ooze sarcasm. She talks down to you more like you’re a nuisance she has to deal with than an equal in any sense (until potato glad but she’s almost a completely different character,not quite though) you can hear the exact moment she lies to you directly, diegectically it’s as if she needs to find a loophole to lie to your face so there’s a slight disconnect. Glados has a very singsong voice, her pronunciation going into higher and lower registers to express emotion rather than actually putting in actual anger or happiness into the monotone. It does a good job of selling this robotic lady who doesn’t view you with any sort of respect until she has to in the second game.

Whealtey by comparison is very non robotic in his voice or manner which makes sense since he’s a personality core and none of the standard robotic traits like objectivity, rationality, intelligence or indifference are present in him specifically on purpose. He’s anxious but optimistic, he rambles to sound like he knows what he’s talking about but it makes it even more apparent he has zero clue what he’s doing. You can immediately tell he’s incompetent at his job from the second you first really talk to him and it makes him all the more endearing.his power trip doesn’t exactly change that either, just attempts to self aggrandize, look and feel important. He sounds “confident” but he talks to the point where you realize just how insecure and unsure he is about anything. The British accent is also weirdly enough feeding into his fake intellectualism since Americans tend to view people with said accent as smarter even if they aren’t saying anything particularly smart.

The narrator is what you’d get if you crossed glados and Whealtey’s attitudes to character voice work but that’s reductive to him and the Stanley parable in general. The whole game is predicated on whether or not you listen to him/ mess with him. It’s an interactive story in the most basic of descriptions. The narrator is literally trying to talk you through a story and gets more distressed and annoyed as the player tries to exert and wrestle control from him. When you think of a narrator this type of voice comes to mind, a British masculine monotone that ebbs and flows with the story. This whole game is a meta narrative so it’s a very smart choice for this to be the case. There’s no robotic tone to his voice because that’s not the point, he’s basically the only real character in the game which makes him feel more human than the actual human we control who cannot speak, only act. He’s the one that makes us feel anything about the game. More the most part the narrator conveys a self assured calm tone, a blank canvas to react to the players weird actions.

Last for today is am and oh boy is he a doozy. Mr Ellison really does his creation justice on how powerful his performance can be. Am in the game and radio drama are actually sort of different characters but it makes sense since in the game he’s literally playing a game with the survivors whereas in the radio drama we get closer to the actual book. For a lot of these characters, the protagonists tend to be silent or reclusive but for am to still be as dominant of a presence with 5 other speaking roles is a testament to the type of character he is. For game am, he sounds almost like a car salesman. He talks down to the survivors, even very obviously flirting with them. You can imagine the mile wide grin on his face when he pulls something. But he’s not exactly desperate, more just like he’s playing a sick little game. Am does things that not even the most human sounding ais do, blowing raspberrys, coughing, laughing, crying. His cadence even makes it feel as if he’s breathing even though you cannot hear it. He’s very intense and visceral. He can go from relaxed and playful to manic and deranged so naturally and it’s what makes him so scary. This computer is far far too human. Everything he does also reminds you that he cannot move or breathe, he cannot scream or cry but it’s clear that he should. The reality of what he is looms over this performance. For as sad as he gets, no tears will flow.his chest will not move because he does not have one.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 43

Tw: some description of post mortem decay

Tegan once found herself in the mid-1980s. While here, she had an encounter with a rather stroppy teenaged waitress. This waitress was named "Dorothy." (Novel: The Crystal Bucephalus)

During funerals on Venus, the brain of the deceased is cut up and eaten by those attending. This was a way the deceased could live on as they would gain the deceased's memories this way. The First Doctor could take this in stride, but Barbara and Ian were a bit disturbed by it. (Novel: Venusian Lullaby)

Rassilon feared for the survival of the Time Lords so deeply that he sent biogenic molecules back in time that would force all life forms in the universe that were affected to evolve into something similar to what was the Gallifreyan standard. This is why so many species look similar. (So Time Lords don't look human...Humans look like Time Lords, just as Trions, Trakenites, etc etc do, because Rassilon interfered with their natural evolution). (Audio: Zagreus)

The Doctor's previous selves maintain awareness in their subconscious, and for a while, the Doctor would keep some of them imprisoned in their mind. For example, the Fifth Doctor was kept in chains in a pit. (Novel: Timewyrm: Revelation)

They also kept the Sixth Doctor imprisoned very deep inside the Doctor's mind for fear of the Valeyard. (Novel: Head Games)

Indeed, the Seventh Doctor started having dreams that his Eighth would lock him in a "room with no doors" after their regeneration. (Novel: The Room With No Doors)

The design for the Mondasian Cyberman was based off of a body scan of the Fifth Doctor. (Audio: Spare Parts)

By some accounts, Liz Shaw died of Agent Yellow, which is a virus that turns oxygen into sulfuric acid somehow. (Novel: Eternity Weeps)

The Fatkats are a race of giant, intelligent cats. They sometimes keep humans as pets. Rory was kidnapped by a Fatkat and given to his kid as a gift, and the kid renamed him Cuddles. The Eleventh Doctor and Amy eventually convinced the Fatkats to help them free Rory, and as a thank-you gift, he left them a life-sized stuffed Doctor doll for them to play with. (Comic: Humans Aren't Just For Christmas)

The Tenth Doctor once wrote a letter to the Brigadier, saying he felt guilty for not visiting and that he was thinking of him. When the Brigadier died, this letter was found lying on his bedside cabinet as though he had just been reading it. Thus, it is likely that the Doctor’s words were the last he ever read and that he might have even passed thinking about his old friend. (Novel: The Time Lord Letters)

When Time Lords die, their TARDISes do as well. (Audio: The Axis of Insanity)

The Axis is a place in interdimensional space that holds together and regulates all damaged timelines to prevent the contamination from spreading. Time Lords typically aren't welcome since they are responsible for most aberrant timelines, but one was sent to investigate when Jarra To took over. This Time Lord was later found by the Doctor, oozing pus and covered in roaches after being murdered by Jarra To. (Audio: The Axis of Insanity)

One time after stumbling on alien invaders, the Eighth Doctor and Charley used their acting skills to save the day. Charley became Lady Charleyostiantayshius, a Gallifreyan observer, and the Doctor became a transcriber from the High Council, who is pretty much Lady Charleyostiantayshius's excitable if a bit bumbling companion. They both wear the proper Gallifreyan regalia, and Charley was so good at her act that the Doctor thought she made a better Gallifreyan than he did. The Doctor convinces the captain of the alien fleet that there is a plague and gives him large quantities of the "vaccine," which is actually just straight up alcohol, so the captain gets wasted. (Audio: Living Legend)

The Doctor's memory of his first two incarnations is hazy, to say the least. (Audio: Cold Fusion)

Patience regenerated into a female form only after meeting the Fifth Doctor. The description of their prior incarnation is ambiguous in that regard. (Audio: Cold Fusion, Novel: Cold Fusion)

Peri was infected with a virus that copied all of her DNA and turned anyone she touched into a clone of herself. This included the Fifth Doctor, who started at first by repeating what Peri said and then became her. Based on the classic Big Finish noises that accompanied this, the change is graphically painful (Audio: Mission of the Viyrans)

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[satoshi-mochida]

Corpse Party II: Darkness Distortion launches this fall worldwide for PS4, Switch, and PC

From Gematsu

Corpse Party II: Darkness Distortion will launch for PlayStation 4, Switch, and PC via Steam, GOG, and Humble Store this fall worldwide, publishers XSEED Games, Marvelous Europe, and Marvelous, and developer Team GrisGris announced.

In North America, physical $49.99 standard and $79.99 “Ayame’s Mercy” editions will be available for PlayStation 4 and Switch. The latter includes a copy of Corpse Party II: Darkness Distortion with a reversible cover, a “Save Yourself” LED blue candle styled after the in-game save points, a 64-page artbook filled with behind-the-scenes content, a “Ayame’s Mercy” lenticular art card, an “evidence kit” containing items from the game, and an Amare Est Vivere “Medical Kit” metal outer case. This limited edition will be available shortly for pre-order through the XSEED Games Store and at participating retailers.

Here is an overview of the game, via XSEED Games:

Corpse Party II: Darkness Distortion follows three high school friends; Haruka Nanami, Nemu Takanashi, and Maria Hitsugi, as they explore the Amare Epatoentst Vivere Hospital, testing a local urban legend as the streamer Nemu seeks to boost her subscriber count. Unfortunately for the three girls, the legend of “Ayame’s Mercy” is true, and they trigger a decades-old curse that sends them into a dark realm. Together they must avoid the vengeful spirit of Ayame Kirishima and other horrors from the hospital’s dark past as they search for a way to dispel Ayame’s curse once and for all. The cult-classic Japanese horror franchise returns with new characters, a new setting, a terrifying new curse, and a brand-new look allowing for more thrills and chills! Players can freely explore the fully 3D rendered halls of the Amare Est Vivere Hospital in both third- and, for those brave enough to take a closer look, first-person viewpoints as they try to keep the girls alive. This new perspective complements the series’ visual novel-style storytelling, pairing updated visuals with gruesome descriptions and spine-tingling binaural audio accompanied by the original Japanese voiceovers. Featuring six chapters, with eight additional scenarios and plenty of Wrong Ends for players to discover as they uncover the truth behind “Ayame’s Mercy” and escape with their lives, Corpse Party II: Darkness Distortion is the perfect entry point for new horror buffs while keeping longtime fans on the edge of their seats.

Watch the announcement trailer below. View the first screenshots at the gallery. Visit the official website here: English / Japanese.

Announce Trailer

English

Japanese

Announce Trailer: Ayame's Spell

Live Action Trailer

[thefrogman]

I can't believe you forgot the five thousand dollar HDMI cable! That's the most important part! Never mind the fact that most HDMI cables do basically the same thing and have very few specialized features, don't think about it. Never mind the fact that gold plating is worthless on a digital signal. Spend five thousand dollars on a gold plated HDMI lead, right now!

You can never go wrong with AudioQuest. If you want overpriced cable nonsense, they got you covered.

Meet the Dragon "10K" HDMI cable.

For a cool $2300 you can get "Level 7 Noise Dissipation."

LEVEL 7!!!!!

Check out this totally scientific description of this feature...

"Traditional “100% shielding” is not enough to guard against the increasingly prevalent effects of Wi-Fi, cellular, and satellite radiation. In AudioQuest HDMI cables, all 19 conductors are Direction-Controlled to minimize the RF Noise that damages performance by “directing” or draining it away from the most vulnerable circuits. In Level 7 Noise Dissipation, high-loss graphene is added to the carbon layer sandwiched between layers of metal around the 4 FRL + eARC pairs, a "global" high-loss carbon layer is placed around all conductors, we incorporate our patented 72v Dielectric-Bias System, and even the drain wires are 100% Perfect-Surface Silver."

I'm sure all of that would hold up to scientific scrutiny.

I mean, sure, you are just transferring 1s and 0s back and forth, and as long as all of the 1s and 0s get where they need to go, your picture will look exactly the same with a $10 cable as it does with a $2300 cable... but I really do need that Level 7 dissipation. My house is constantly flooded with satellite radiation.

Yes, there are shitty HDMI cables. And some of them struggle to meet the bandwidth they claim on the packaging. This will cause no picture or sound or it will cause dropouts or skipped frames. Sometimes you will get crazy artifacts that pop in and out. But you cannot improve video or audio quality with a fancy cable.

You will not see magical colors so bright you cum in your shorts.

You will not hear indescribably intense bass that will violently vibrate your testicles--killing your sperm. That was microplastics, okay?

You will get the data that was encoded into the media file.

You just need a cable that can pass along that data without incident. Buying a "good" cable is actually recommended. Blue Jeans Cable is a great brand that has high quality control standards and a good warranty. They are a little spendy, but everything is a good value.

Their website is built on ancient GeoCities technology...

So you know they prioritize their budget toward R&D and product design over graphic designer or a subscription to Squarespace.

I buy their cables because they always meet the data bandwidth they claim and they can take abuse due to using tougher materials that last.

My best advice when buying an HDMI or other data cable is to figure out how much bandwidth you need, and then make sure in the product description they mention the data rate.

So if you want 4K resolution at 60 Hz, you will need a cable that does at least 18 gigabits per second. If you need 4K/120Hz/4:4:4/12 bit, then the bandwidth should be 48 Gbps. And if you get more bandwidth than you actually need, the cable is backwards compatible.

Here is a handy chart...

USUALLY, if they list the actual data rate (Gbps) in the product description, you can trust they certified it can pass that much data through. It's when you don't see any Gbps rating in the product description that you should move on to another cable.

(USB standards are insanely confusing, but the same advice applies. Try to find out the data rate you need and research to make sure the cable is capable of that.)

I'm afraid all of this cable nonsense goes back a long way. When I turned 16 I immediately applied for a job at Best Buy selling computers. And I really loved that job. So many people were clueless about computers back then and I was very good at assessing their needs and making sure they went home with the equipment and accessories that would suit them within their budget.

And if they tried to buy the eMachines computers, I would tell them they might as well set their money on fire.

Throw directly into trash because this is some hot garbage.

Unfortunately my managers pressured me to sell warranties and accessories that I didn't really believe in. The hardest thing they asked me to do was sell people gold-plated printer cables. This is back when printers still used a parallel port connection.

They wanted me to sell these for $40 to $60 (depending on length).

Even though these bad boys did the exact same thing for only $20.

I could actually see on the store's computer how much markup these cables had. The cheap ones cost Best Buy the exact same amount as the gold ones.

Maybe they weren't as aesthetically pleasing, but those cheaper cables were built like fuckin' tanks. I probably still have some of these in my basement that would function just as well as they did 25 years ago.

The ONLY difference was the "gold" contacts on the ends. But my managers told me to lie to customers. I was to tell them you would get much faster print speeds, better colors, and more DPI (dots per inch). But both cables sent the same 1s and 0s. They either worked or they didn't. The only tiny advantage is that gold contacts are slightly less resistant to corrosion over time. But I have yet to see that happen within the lifespan of any cable.

So I would tell customers it was a waste of money and lie to my managers saying the customers weren't interested.

"Did you tell them it was faster?" "Yes." (A lie.) "Did you tell them it made the colors better?" "Yes." (Also a lie.) "Well, we're going to have to work on your sales presentation skills." "Sounds good, boss." (Whatever, dude.)

[vicaps]

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In My Blood | Part Two

In My Blood Masterlist

Curtis "Curt" Biddick x SOE!Female Reader

It is no longer safe for you to remain in Belgium. With the Gestapo closing in, Curt is finally ready to make his escape with you. But is it too late?

Warnings: MAJOR canon divergence, Language, Violence, Weapons, Spy Craft, Detailed Description of Murder, Death, Injuries, Angst, Grief, Fear, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: This story contains revisionist history, read at your own risk. Reader is half-Belgian, half-English and has been given an extensive backstory and family tree. While they have been given the codename of "Marie," no physical descriptions or Y/N are used.

Italics used for non-English words and to indicate dialogue spoken in a language other than English.

This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 6929

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

May 3, 1940

“Honestly Papa,” You protested in French, threading the telephone cord between your fingers as the line crackled and hummed with the standard overseas audio distortions,“I do not understand why you will not let me come home, nothing has happened in months–”

“Enough, my little monster,” Your father’s voice gently but firmly cut you off. “We have been over this a thousand times, it is simply too dangerous for you to leave England with war declared. Yes, it is quiet at the moment, but it is only a matter of time now that the weather has grown warm.”

Your eyes scanned across the neatly appointed Edwardian writing desk in your grandmother’s study before turning to eye the drizzly gardens of the Dower House through the spotless window behind you.

“If it is so dangerous, why do you and Mama insist on staying in Brussels? You are both more important than me and if those Nazi bastards invade you know that’s where they’re headed – straight for you.”

“Come, come now, don’t let your mother hear you using that language.” His chastisement was half-hearted and filled with laughter, pulling a reluctant grin from you. “Belgium is neutral, firstly, but if the worst happens, we will simply flee to the house in Wallonia. Chin-up my little monster, we are made of sterner stuff, are we not?”

“Yes, Papa,” You replied, feeling somewhat reassured and heartened, “we truly are.”

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

October 28, 1943

The collision of your spine against the brick wall drove the air from your lungs, a strangled noise of pain seeping from your throat as the broken end of a bolt that had once affixed something to the side of the building tore through the fabric of your blouse and dug into the meat of your right upper arm. Gritting your teeth as your eyes watered at the searing pain and warm gush down your sleeve, your grip tightened on the handle of your knife, swinging it higher towards the vulnerable neck of the man you had lured into this alleyway.

He had been following you for at least twenty minutes, Gestapo most likely, on your way to pick up some material to then courier to another contact. You had been unsuccessful at losing him, and with the sun setting and curfew nearly upon you, confrontation had remained your only option. While sneaking out after curfew was perilous enough, being caught out around the fall of curfew was nearly suicidal. Parking your bike in front of a well-attended pub, you had made your way across the town square, wending your way through the emptying streets before ducking into this very alley to lay in wait.

Unfortunately for you, the man had proven to be much larger than you had first estimated, and along with a brutal case of halitosis, each sour breath assaulting your senses as it impacted your face, he was easily overpowering you, slowly turning your knife in your grip, threatening to use your own weapon against you. Unfortunately for him, you had been trained in all the ‘ungentlemanly’ ways one could undertake warfare, and he was utterly unprepared for the collision of your foot with his most tender parts.

A sound consisting of an intriguing mixture of a yelp and a wheeze escaped his mouth as he fell back, his oppressive weight finally easing off you. Seizing the momentum, you quickly struck with your blade, meeting the weak block of his forearm and drawing a yowl this time. While he was not proving to be a quiet kill, thankfully his racket resembled an alley cat, and could be explained away if necessary. Heart hammering in your ears, breaths coming in quick gasps under the heady influence of your own adrenaline, you swung the blade home into the defenseless flesh of his neck and tugged forward, sealing your opponent’s fate as he crumpled to the worn cobblestones.

Taking several awkward steps backward, you inhaled deep, greedy gulps of air as the man exhaled his last and grew still. It was both relieving and unsettling. Casting about for the large metal bins you had glimpsed earlier, you darted across the alley to quickly remove the lids from both, shifting the filthy contents from one into the other to make space for your deposit. Returning to his lifeless form, you assessed his bulk before struggling to strip him of his large, navy wool coat before dragging him down the alley and hoisting him into his final resting place. The wound in your triceps screamed in agonized protest with every breath until you had resecured the lid, the scene unremarkable enough in the long shadows of evening.

Shrugging into the bulky coat to conceal the damage to your blouse and retrieving your luggage, discarded moments before the altercation began, you forced yourself to exit the alley at a perfectly normal pace in the direction of Doctor Legot’s clinic, trusty bicycle abandoned for the sake of a speedy departure. Reaching the clinic well after closing, you slid around the back, setting down your suitcase to root around in the hedges for the upturned pot hiding the spare key known to only a select few. You took a moment to compose yourself, taking a deep breath and brusquely wiping at the tears of discomfort that had been stubbornly welling in your eyes the entire journey.

The lock turned soundlessly under your practiced hand, the door swinging inward to an unexpected shaft of light spilling from the patient washroom. Peering around the doorjamb, your eyes widened to see Curt standing at the small sink in the powder room, stripped down to his undershirt, carefully dragging a safety razor across one lathered cheek. Exhaustion and injury got the better of you, making you sway unsteadily, forcing you to catch yourself on the frame of the door, immediately attracting his attention.

“Marie?” He turned to look at you, well-defined muscles of his arms flexing with his movements, shaving cream adorably still adorning a great deal of his face.

Hastily lurching forward into the clinic, you quickly closed and latched the door behind you, depositing your luggage and shoulder bag before shrugging out of the claustrophobic overcoat.

“Jesus Christ, look at you!” His outburst, followed by the sound of his razor hitting the porcelain bowl of the sink, made you drop your gaze to your clothes, only to be greeted by the sight of your late opponent’s blood drenching the fabric.

“Oh, do not fret about me…” You had hoped to put on a display of bravado, but your voice was aggravatingly thin, “…the other fellow is much worse off.”

His startlingly warm palms cupping your elbows made your head jerk back up, meeting his furrowed brow, eyes darkened with concern. “That isn’t very comforting, gorgeous.” He muttered and began tugging you towards Doctor Legot’s office where a crack of light shone from beneath the door. “Doc?” He barked out before open the door without any further preamble.

Only a small noise of protest sounded before the doctor was shooting to his feet, quickly ushering you to take his recently vacated chair, rapidly looking you over before his eyes settled on your arm.

“I’m not going to ask how such misfortune befell you, Marie. I am a wiser man than that. But what, specifically, happened to your arm?” He murmured in Dutch as he retrieved a set of suture scissors to begin cutting away the sleeve of your ruined shirt.

“I backed into the shorn off end of a bolt with rather a bit of force.” You sighed wearily, glancing at Curt who remained in the room, eyeing the pair of you intensely from where he leaned against a filing cabinet. “Why is your guest upstairs?”

Your sentence ended in a hiss as you inhaled sharply through your teeth at the feeling of the doctor’s fingers prodding at the wound on the back of your upper arm.

“He cut himself shaving by candlelight one too many times. Once the cast came off, we made an agreement he could come upstairs between closing and dinner to wash up. You’ve had your tetanus vaccine?”

As Legot began to aggressively paint your wound with disinfectant, you pressed your lips together tightly against any further mortifying outbursts, and thus only managed a nod in confirmation.

“Good.” The room fell silent as he applied a square of gauze to your wound, securing it in place by wrapping your arm in a bandage, tying it off.

Your eyes drifted back to Curt who had not seemed to move an inch, not even changed position, the shaving cream on his face drying out, growing crusty against his skin. His silence was perhaps the most unnerving thing you had encountered this evening, his voice seeming to have filled every waking encounter you’d had with him thus far.

“It’s a lot of blood…” He muttered, eyes rising from your clothes, marred by scarlet quickly turning a mottled brown as the blood dried and aged.

“Mostly someone else’s.” You reminded him gently, earning a non-plussed grunt in reply.

A heavy sigh fell from the Doctor Legot’s lips, making you look up at him slowly. “Marie there has been…an increase in the Gestapo around town. A contact of mine was even questioned about a woman bearing a remarkable resemblance to you. And now that you seem to have had a run in, I’m…concerned.”

Despite similar thoughts ricocheting about your brain the entire flight back to his clinic, the breath you drew in felt like it contained thousands of tiny shards of glass which imbedded themselves deep inside your breast as you heard it from an external source. Rationally, to have survived so many months in your occupation was a feat worth celebrating.

An SOE agent typically had a life expectancy of six months, and yet to watch your ability to remain in Belgium, to remain useful to your fellow Belgians, crumble before you was incredibly painful. You allowed your exhale to accumulate in your cheeks before releasing it all at once through pursed lips with a nod, the feeling of having failed your people, your family, once again a yawning pit deep in your gut.

“It is time for me to move on.” You conceded flatly.

“If you are headed in a certain direction, might you be able to take a certain guest with you?” He asked with a nod in the American’s direction.“Couriers are still stretched thin.”

Your eyes widened slowly as it dawned on you that it was well over two months since Curt had become a guest in his cellar and should be well on his way to Spain by now. “He is well enough to travel then? Have they made him papers yet?” Your rapid-fire questions were greeted by frantic blinking from the doctor before he nodded quickly in the affirmative to both.

Turning back to Curt you tilted your head, reinvigorated by the chance to be useful one last time as you tried to remove yourself from occupied Europe, saving another’s life infinitely more important than simply trying to preserve your own. “Tell me, Curt, are you ready to head back to England?”

The apprehension that had drawn his features tight melted away, yielding to a bright smile, his eyes fairly sparkling with anticipation at the promise of beginning his escape at last. “You have no idea.”

You could do nothing to stop the uplift at the corner of your mouth in response, nodding slightly. “I’m going to change out of these clothes and then we’ll get ready to leave in the morning.”

Straightening from his lean against the cabinet, he moved to the door. “I’ll just go grab…” His voice trailed off as he disappeared down the hall before returning with your suitcase, setting it on the floor with a nod before departing once more, not loitering long enough to accept your gratitude.

Legot produced an old flour sack for you to deposit any clothes beyond saving, to be burned upstairs in his fireplace, before leaving you alone in his office. Feeling the chill of autumn in your damp clothes, you quickly stripped, using a towel to wipe any bloody remnants from your skin with water from the sink in the corner of the room, before changing into fresh clothing. Your mind was already occupied with plotting your route – to Antwerp, fetching supplies from the small flat you kept as a base of operations there, and then boarding a train to the border before crossing on foot then onto another train at Lille to Toulouse before meeting up with the Ponzán group to be guided across the Pyrenees. But this time, you would be one of the party making the crossing in neutral Spain.

Bringing your damp towel to try and blot any blood from the pilfered overcoat, hoping to save it for Curt’s benefit during the mountain crossing to come, you turned off the office lights and headed toward the storeroom, grabbing the garment from the floor on the way. Dropping it through the open trapdoor followed by the wet towel, you smiled to Curt as he appeared below, passing him your suitcase with your good arm before beginning your own descent down the ladder. Pushed well beyond all possible limits, your battered and bandaged arm gave out at your demand to bear your body weight, a yelp escaping as your right hand lost its grip on the ladder as a result.

Strong hands quickly landed on your hips, steadying and supporting you.

“Easy, gorgeous, good as you got the guy, he still hurt you.” Curt muttered behind you, the fresh scent of soap and aftershave radiating from his warm skin as he helped you down the last few rungs.

“Th, thank you, Curt.” You stammered, hugging your throbbing limb close as your feet settled onto the cellar floor, watching him easily climb up the ladder to swing the heavy trapdoor shut almost silently even from inside. “You’ve come a long way in the past few weeks…”

He smirked a little, carrying your luggage over to set on the foot of your bed for you. “Been doing a lot of shadow boxing down here.”

“Boxing!” You breathed in surprise, gathering the abandoned coat from the crumpled heap it left on the floor, trying not to notice the way his muscles moved as he pulled on a thick knit sweater in the cool damp of your hiding space. “If I had known, I would have gotten comics related to your interest…”

“I enjoyed the ones you brought, even read the book too. My teachers would be proud.”

A small laugh escaped you as you settled onto the edge of the bed, inspecting the coat for bloodstains and methodically beginning to blot them out. His own laughed intertwined with yours all too melodically, making you swallow tightly.

“That coat is awful big for you, gorgeous.” He teased, watching you from where he stood at the end of your bed.

“It’s not for me, Curt, it’s for you – you’re going to need it where we’re headed. Just need to get all the blood out first.” You murmured, turning the right sleeve inside out knowing you had surely bled on it yourself.

“Do I get to know where we’re going?”

You peered up at him a moment before shaking your head. “Other than England. That will suffice for now. I will share the goal with you day by day, but the less you know the safer you will be. Aside from a few key portions, the majority of the trip will be by train to start. Tomorrow, though, we shall have to try something new.” You trailed off into a mutter at the last, wrestling with the heavy fabric, shooting him a grateful look as he grabbed the hem of the coat to help you position it, allowing you to reach one of the last stains.

“What’s so special about tomorrow?” He prodded, clearly still listening even though your final statement had more been musing aloud than for his ears.

Pausing a moment you sighed before meeting his eyes. “I suppose you ought to know that I appear to be a known entity to the Gestapo, at the very least locally, and so we will take extra evasive manoeuvres when we leave town. I shall be disguised, we will leave just before dawn, and avoid public transportation. I have a few ideas for how we might reach where we are going first, do not worry.” You offered a reassuring smile, to which he returned a small nod. “Jan will have been by the take your photo and give you papers?”

“Oh, yeah, nice fella if a bit quiet. Gave me a couple sets of papers.” He stepped over to his cot to retrieve two well forged sets of identity papers, bringing them over for you to inspect.

Laying the now-cleaned coat to dry across your suitcase, you accepted them from him, looking them over before holding out those in your left hand. “These are your Belgian papers. I suggest you put these in your usual pocket – the one you will reach for first, so that you can produce them as naturally as possible. We will destroy them as soon as we have left Belgium.” You watched as he took them from you.

“Belgian papers, got it.” Curt made a tiny salute with the papers before grabbing a leather jacket from the back of a small chair that was a new addition to the cellar, sliding them into the inner left breast pocket.

“And these,” you held out those in your right hand, “are your French papers. You will want to keep these close, in a safe place on your person, but not somewhere you will mistakenly hand them over until they are needed.”

His eyebrow shot up playfully. “Hold up, Marie, I thought you just said you weren’t going to tell me where we’re going…”

“Did I?” You blinked innocently and his guffaw of amusement threatened to pull another unintentional smile from you.

Since when had your expressions become so very difficult to control?

“The most important thing for you to remember on our journey,” you soldiered on despite your inner struggle, “is not to speak. Your voice absolutely gives away the fact that you do not belong here. Many of the airmen whom we guide find the most success by feigning deafness. It explains both their inability to speak and the fact that they do not understand the language.”

 “You could just teach me French, or whatever you speak with Doc…”

“Flemish?” You found yourself fighting back laughter. “We do not have enough time for you to master either, Curt. We leave tomorrow. Now take your French papiers and get some sleep, we leave in a few hours.” You nodded firmly, but with a kind smile.

“You too, Marie, you need dinner or anything?”

Shaking your head softly, certain you could not bring yourself to eat even if you felt hungry, the pair of you settled in to sleep, the damp wool coat taking over the chair in the middle of the room to dry, looming in the flickering candlelight like some grim reminder of your actions. Huffing at your melodramatic thoughts, you pulled the blankets over your head and rolled over to get some rest.

As agreed upon, Legot woke the pair of you shortly after four with warm bread, apples, and granola. You could almost taste the ghost of butter, jam, sugar, and cream on your tongue – heavily rationed delights that had been hard to come by in England and all but non-existent here under Nazi rule. Downing your dry, brown breakfast, you opened your suitcase to retrieve a wig from its depths, gathering your hair and securing it beneath the false strands to disguise your apparently known appearance.

“I dunno Marie…” Curt’s musing were interrupted by an exaggerated yawn as he smoothed his hair with a pot of borrowed pomade. “Your natural hair looks so much prettier on you.”

Fighting the girlish urge to preen under his indirect compliment, you shook your head. “It’s a good thing I’m not trying to look pretty then, just different.”

“Well in that case you look nothing like your usual self.” He shrugged into his leather jacket before snagging the hard-won navy coat from the back of the chair and folded it in perhaps the most unmethodical way you had ever witnessed, but it still wound up flat and small enough to fit into his suitcase.

“Good.” You muttered and snapped the latches on your own luggage closed, heading over to the ladder to climb up.

“Wait, let me help you.” He hurried over, reaching out to grasp your waist. “You sure you can pull the cases up?”

Huffing a little, more in annoyance at being injured than his offers of help, you nodded firmly. “Absolutely.” Clenching your jaw, you forced your way up the ladder, stubbornly ignoring the ache in your still-healing arm, turning to reach out expectantly for the first piece of luggage once you were kneeling on the floor above.

A bemused expression greeted you before he easily hoisted the first, waiting until you had it tucked aside before sending the second up. Taking a moment to extinguish the candles still burning below, he then quickly ascended the ladder to join you, silently securing the trapdoor behind him.

“Right, this is it then.”

About to make your way down the hall to bid a final farewell to the doctor, you turned with a soft gasp to find him stand there with a small canvas bag of food.

“For your journey.” He held it out, nodding as Curt quickly stepped forward to sling it over his shoulder.

“Be safe, Doctor Legot, thank you for all your assistance.”

“The very same to you, Marie. Best of luck on your travels.”

A small, sentimental smile poked through your serious expression before your eyes widened. “If you are in need of a bicycle, mine remains outside the pub across from the town square. Farewell.”

At serious risk of lingering too long, you turned then and headed out the backdoor, glancing over your shoulder in the faint light of early morning to ensure Curt was following you. You kept a quick pace, cutting and winding through town towards a familiar farmyard, dairy cows grazing the fields, lowing softly, as the farmer and his daughters loaded containers of milk into the back of a worn truck. The sun had escaped the confines of the horizon by now, flooding the landscape with the golden light of an autumn sunrise as you cast another glance of confirmation over your shoulder, nearly tripping over your own feet at the unjustly stunning quality of Curt’s eyes in daylight.

“Whoa, easy.” He hurried a few steps forward to steady you by the elbow, catching the attention of Tillens who quickly sent his children back into the house.

“Hush.” You whispered firmly before waving to the farmer, who squinted at you a moment before relaxing as you greeted him warmly in Dutch.

“That you, Marie? You’ve done something new with your hair, didn’t even recognize you for a moment…”

“The point, I am afraid. Are you by any chance headed to Antwerp today?” You asked hopefully, stomach falling as he shook his head.

“Could take you to Brussels, but Antwerp is tomorrow.”

Brussels was the one place you avoided, far too many familiar faces and even more Nazis along with their collaborating government.

“How much could I offer to convince you to take us to Antwerp today?”

Tillens’ brown eyes studied your disguise before looking over at your companion. “It’s only one hour out of my way, Marie, for you there is no charge. Hop in the back and I’ll pack the rest of these around you.”

Your eyes widened before you quickly gestured Curt forward, digging into the bag on his shoulder and pulling out the loaf of the bread you found there. “Then please accept this, for your family.”

“Marie…” Tillens protested but you pushed it forward insistently and he accepted it with a grateful nod. “Thank you, every bit helps.”

“Thank you, for it truly does.” Grasping Curt’s elbow, you pointed into the back of the truck, watching him step up and weave his way towards the back.

Setting your suitcase on the tailgate, you reached for the handhold with your left arm, gasping as Curt’s hands were suddenly around your waist to hoist you in amongst the containers of milk.

“Gorgeous but stubborn.” He muttered under his breath, grabbing your suitcase and leading you over to a gap he had found just large enough for the pair of you to settle on the floor.

Pulling your shoulder bag against your body, you tucked your skirt beneath yourself as you sat down beside him, nodding to Tillens as he peered in at the pair of you before sealing you in with the last of his cargo.

“It’s about a two-hour drive, feel free to sleep.” You whispered, the back of the truck going dark as Tillens secured the doors shut, the motor growling to life shortly thereafter.

“So he speaks Flemish too?” Curt asked curiously as the vehicle jolted into motion and you nodded softly.

“It’s Dutch, really, with some regional differences. In the bigger cities you’ll find more of a mix of Flemish and French.”

“And you speak it all.” Curt smirked and you nodded, hugging your knees to your chest as the cargo rattled around you. “Really somethin’…” He muttered, leaning back to close his eyes and try to get some rest as you had suggested.

The drive smoothed out as the truck navigated onto the main road, and you felt yourself relax a little after the first hour of distance was put between you and Beverst. You were by no means out of danger – the Gestapo was an insidious organization, their network a far-reaching and interconnected tangle. The fact that at least one agent had come looking for you specifically meant that, if the entirety did not know of you yet, they soon would. You had to run all the way to be truly safe.

Of their own volition, your eyes drifted towards Curt’s sleeping form, his handsome face grown slack and soft in sleep, the youth of him both striking and painful. What would his life look like if Hitler had been able to keep his hands to himself…or better yet had never even come to power? What would your life look like? Certainly neither of you would be in the back of a dairy truck sneaking your way to Antwerp.

A roughened patch of road jostled his body, threatening to wake him and you quickly wrenched your eyes away, studying the handwritten labels from Tillens’ farm. Thankfully Curt remained asleep for the rest of the drive, the truck pulling to a stop amidst the hum of the city, and you gently prodded him awake with a shake to the shoulder.

“We’re here.” You whispered before pressing a finger to your lips and he nodded drowsily before straightening.

Light flooded into the back of the truck, the pair of you blinking owlishly as Tillens shifted the cargo to make a path of exit into a familiar alley. Climbing out carefully, you turned to unload the suitcases as Curt passed each, nodding sharply to the farmer before you and the airman assembled yourselves, and strolled casually out into the foot traffic on the sidewalk.

The interference and unpredictability of humans had you on edge, not appreciating the way Curt always seemed to be not where you expected him to be with every glance over your shoulder. After the fourth time you looked for him a little too long, your heart in your throat, you stepped around a rather annoying blonde making eyes at him, and seized his free hand with yours. To keep better track of him, of course. The fact that your throat tightened slightly as his blunt fingers wrapped around your hand in return, requiring a forceful swallow to clear it, was utterly irrelevant.

Turning the corner, you looked both ways before tugging on his hand, guiding him across the street to the unassuming building of flats from which you were intending to collect your warmer clothes and some other supplies. The sight of the rather nice car out front was the first sign that something was off. The next was the sound of your neighbour, an ancient, haggard woman named Josephine De Smet, speaking loudly in the stairwell, her creaking voice cascading down the tiled stairs to the lobby, halting your feet immediately.

Clearly distracted, Curt’s body collided with your back, forcing you to brace against the wall lest you topple over.

“Geez, why’d you sto–” His less-than-hushed whisper was cut off by your palm, forcefully freed from his grasp, slapping over his mouth as you quickly pushed him back into the corner of the lobby under the stairs, casting a sharp look at him before craning your ear back upwards.

Holding your breath, you listened intently, trying to hear the rest of the conversation. To confirm if the alarm bells ringing in your head were warranted.

“Just what has that hussy gotten herself mixed up in then, sir?” The old crone rasped in French, not her usual choice of language, and you pressed your lips into a line thin.

“I cannot say, madam, other than she is a monster and you’d best be wary.” The deep male voice, a German accent poisoning his pronunciation, made you inhale sharply through your nose.

Hand dropping from where it pressed against Curt’s remarkably plush and soft lips to grasp the lapel of his jacket, you pulled hard, yanking him out of the building and back onto the street. They were a lot closer on your trail than you had realized. Pulse rabbiting at your throat, you held your suitcase out to Curt in a silent request, grateful when he took it without question, following you as you took off down the sidewalk at a brisk clip.

Darting around the next corner, you led him on a chaotic, unpredictable, and hopefully untraceable path to a tramway stop several blocks away as you dug through your shoulder bag for the coins to make fare for both of you. Once that was secured, you traded his fare for your suitcase, tucking your own coins into the pocket of your light jacket, trying to suppress your grimace at the loss of your winter clothes in that now unvisitable flat. The feeling of Curt’s sturdy hand slipping into yours, enveloping your skin in warmth and his strong grip, halted you for half a step before releasing some of the tension in your lungs.

Propelling forward across the street, the pair of you jumped onto the tram just as it was about to pull away, shuffling into the heart of the crowded carriage to purchase your tickets and keep your faces away from the windows. It was not an overly warm ride to Antwerpen-Centraal station, but you could certainly feel sweat prickling in your armpits and rolling down your back between your shoulder blades. Tugging on Curt’s sleeve, you disembarked one stop short with him and ducked into an alley to yank the wig free, hanging your head upside down to shake out your hair before repining it. It surely looked sad, but given that identity papers were required to board a train, you needed to resemble your photo and thus the wig was shoved into a nearby trash bin.

“We will be asked for papers, there will be a lot of soldiers, try to remain relaxed and do as I do.” You whispered to Curt, and he nodded, patting the left breast of his pocket with an easy smile, though you watched his adam’s apple bob sharply as he swallowed. “We will be buying tickets and travelling to the border where will stop for the night, alright?”

“Lead on, gorgeous.” He nodded and turned to following you toward the grand, stone-clad station built at the turn of the century.

The presence of Nazi soldiers was pronounced, their bright red swatiskas flashing about the otherwise pleasant square like blemishes on a beautiful face. Keeping your expression perfectly neutral yet pleasant, confident yet not cocky, you took a moment to exhale slowly as you made it past the first hurdle into the building before heading to the ticket counter, requesting two tickets to Kortrijk. It was nothing short of a miracle that you managed a polite nod rather than kissing the ticket seller full on the mouth when he informed you the train would be leaving in twenty minutes. Pulling the bills from your bag, you accepted the tickets in return before leading Curt to track three.

Rolling your shoulders in and down your back, you confidently offered your identity papers to the Nazi soldier standing at the carriage door, immensely pleased when Curt did the same without prompting.

“Where are you two headed?” The soldier asked in clipped, stilted French, his piercing blue eyes wholly unsettling as they flicked between you and Curt before coming back to you.

“Kortrijk, sir.” You answered simply.

If he wanted to know more, he would need to ask more. You certainly had a lie prepared should he require one. He made a noise of displeasure, looking over your shoulder, implying the accumulation of other passengers.

“Off you go.” He grunted, returning both sets of papers to you and you nodded rapidly, climbing aboard quickly, even as your arm shook under the strain of hauling your body up the steps.

Shuffling down the hallway of the carriage, you at last came to an empty compartment, stepping inside and setting your luggage on the bench. As soon as Curt stepped in behind you, you slid the door shut behind him, knowing it was rude with a full train but not wanting anyone else to join you. As you turned back, he was already hoisting your suitcase up onto the luggage rack, making you smile fondly.

“Merci.” You murmured, hoping he would understand your meaning.

Judging by his responding smile, it seemed he certainly did. Despite your longing to collapse onto the bench seat, you sat with decorum, trying not to stare at your watch and count down the minutes. As the last whistle blew and the cars at last shunted into motion, you finally relaxed back into the cushion behind you.

“Is it always like that?” Curt whispered and you shot him a rueful look before shaking your head.

“I am deeply sorry, that…that is solely a complication of traveling with me right now.” You murmured in response, digging out his ticket and papers, returning them to him. “The conductor will arrive closer to our destination to check your ticket, then we show the papers again in the station after we detrain.”

You watched as he carefully took the items and tucked them back into his inner pocket.

“No apologies, gorgeous. We’re both not wanted here, so it’s a good thing we’re leaving.” He nodded and you looked out the window when rain pelted the glass as the train left the shelter of the station, biting the inside of your cheek savagely to keep your emotions in check. “Why don’t we have some lunch?”

He started to root around in the bag from Legot and you forced a smile, sharing the few apples and the small wedge of cheese, akin to a rare jewel, that the man had gifted the two of you with. After a minor squabble over who ought to be resting, Curt finally gave up and obstinately remained awake as you insisted that you must, staring out the window as the fields of Flanders rolled by. The train made numerous stops until the conductor arrived to check your tickets, signalling you were about to arrive in Kortrijk, the final stop.

Courtesy of your preparation, the process went remarkably smooth, and the pair of you stepped off the train once Curt had retrieved the suitcases from overhead. Another successful check of your papers and you were melting into the population freshly departing from their workday and making their way home. Within thirty minutes, you had arrived at an unassuming home on the southern edge of town, knocking the door in the prescribed way.

A young woman with a toddler perched on her hip opened the door, eyeing each of you cautiously.

“May I help you?” She asked in Dutch.

“Good afternoon, Ma’am. We were wondering if you might be interested in some new cosmetics?” You smiled broadly, delivering the passphrase.

A flash of recognition crossed her delicate features, her plump cheeks flushing in excitement as she briefly went rigid before she reined in her emotions. “Why don’t you come in and show me what you have for sale…” She stepped back, holding the door open wider for you and Curt to step inside.

Once the door was secured behind you, she led you through her small but tidy home up the narrow stairs to a small half door before opening it slowly.

“Here you are, dinner will take some time.”

“Whatever you can spare is truly appreciated, thank you.” You thanked her softly, sliding your suitcase into the attic before crouching down to crawl in after it.

The space was smaller than Legot’s cellar but larger than the back of Tillens’ dairy truck, enough room for each of you to lay flat, high up in the very peak of the small house. It was not a safe house you would have employed for a larger group. For the first time, you were grateful it was nearly November and not the heat of summer.

“Ouch!” Curt hissed as he cracked his head on a low beam, and you frowned, shifting up onto your knees to make sure he was alright. “Yeah, yeah, m’fine Marie, just an idiot.” He gave you a lopsided grin and you shook your head.

“Sorry it’s not the Ritz, but it’s not a cellar either?” You tilted your head hopefully.

“Never stayed at the Ritz, you?” He asked, settling onto the centuries-old wooden planks beside you.

“Hmmm.” You hummed noncommittally. “She says she’ll have something for us to eat in a bit, we will rest and then start out walking after midnight.”

“Walk…?” He prompted, eyebrow raised.

“It is not easy to cross the border, we cannot simply take the train into France, so we must walk. It is best to do so at night, and even better to do so rested. I promise we can linger a little longer at our next place, but we must get out of Belgium.” Despite your efforts to quash it, a slight tremor remained in your voice and Curt shot you a look of sympathy and utterly threatened your ability to maintain your composure. “So sleep.” You tacked on firmly and pulled off your jacket, folding it up to make a pillow before laying on your side with your back to him.

There was a decidedly awkward silence as he remained seated, looming above you, before laying down with a heavy exhale, clearly frustrated with you. Well that made two of you.

Dinner arrived two hours later with a soft knock, driving home the fact that you had not slept, but the warm vegetable hash was so very welcome and filling, giving you hope that you might be able to actually fall asleep for the last few hours of your stay here. As you lay back down onto your make-shift pillow, Curt’s breaths almost immediately evened out into the heavy sighs of sleep, making your lips twitch in a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Yet as you closed your eyes, all that echoed through your mind was the voice of your father ‘mon petit monstre’ and the Gestapo agent from the stairwell of your flat building ‘elle est un monstre.’

Petit monstre

Un monstre

Monstre

Monstre

Grief clawed at your throat, making you sit up sharply as you gasped for air, eyes brimming with tears as the realization that you would never again hear that nickname in your father’s voice – that it would now only come to you by way of anger and insult – sank like a stone in the pit of your stomach. Sniffling petulantly as your nose began to run, you jumped at the feeling of Curt’s hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong…” He whispered groggily, shifting closer.

Shaking your head quickly, you roughly wiped the tears from your eyes trying to hide the evidence, huffing as the action only caused fresh ones to spill onto your cheeks.

“Don’t tell me then, just c’mere.” He replied and gathered you into his arms, cradling you close against his chest.

Every muscle in your body went rigid at first, your rational, well-trained self knowing this was utterly inappropriate. And yet…

And yet, he was so warm, so kind, and he was holding you so tightly that maybe you could fall apart just a little without crumbling entirely. Surrendering to the fact that no arms had attempted to hold and comfort you in years, you yielded to his embrace, becoming pliant as you loosened the clenched-fist-grip on your grief just a little, allowing tears to slide freely down your cheeks in the darkness of that attic as his palm soothed up and down your spine.

“Shhh, I’m right here, you’re not alone…”

How very much you wanted to believe him.

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

In My Blood Masterlist

Tag list: @precious-little-scoundrel, @luminouslywriting, @polikabra, @beingalive1

[ripleycano]

The Illusion of Living: Sammy Lawrence Archive

 Long time no see, BATIM friends! In light of BATDR releasing soon, I’ve decided to buy The Illusion of Living and compile all the information we have about our favorite music director. I’ll also include information from sources other than TIOL for a more holistic aggregate of knowledge :)

Full post under cut!

Appearance

 Let’s start with mentions of physical features and attire. We already knew from the Hot Topic takeover that he had a ‘flowing cascade’ of brown or blonde hair:

TIOL adds onto this in Joey’s description of Jack Fain and Sammy Lawrence at the evening party:

“Though I suppose his (Sammy’s) hair could have been slicked back a bit more, not quite so long and floppy on the top as it was. As it still is.”

It looks to be the case that his hair was indeed on the longer side, and it remained that way during his time at the studio. (Personally, I’m a big fan of the idea of his having messy, unkempt hair that’s a little long for the standard of his era.)

DCTL describes Sammy as looking like a bird or insect, TIOL does the same:

“Sammy stepped toward me out of the dark. His angular face was highlighted now from the lights of the party, throwing sharp shadows that only made him look more insect-like.”

In addition to this, TIOL confirms my assumptions that Sammy is both younger than Joey and looks permanently exhausted:

“He was a couple years younger than me but seemed like a fellow who had lived several lifetimes already.”

Keep in mind Joey thinks this on the eve of his thirtieth birthday, meaning Sammy was likely somewhere in his twenties when he started working at the studio.

We already know suspenders were part of his closet, but what else? TIOL portrays Sammy in stark contrast to his musical partner, Jack Fain. This is seen not only in their personalities, but also in their attire.

“The man (Jack Fain) tipped his bowler in our direction. I understood now why he was still wearing it even indoors. His whole outfit was a kind of costume in a way. He wasn’t in a tux or a dinner jacket either. Instead he was in dark gray wool trousers with red suspenders, a white button-up shirt beneath an orange vest and brown bow tie. He fit the description of “a character” to a tee. Sammy Lawrence on the other hand was in a neat simple black evening suit and looked totally appropriate for an opening night party.”

Looks like Jack prefers to dress in bright, flashy clothes, while Sammy’s style of choice is plain, smart, and occasion-appropriate. Unfortunately for him, he is eventually fated to wear only ink-soaked suspenders for the remainder of his life :,)

Past

With TIOL, we finally have some insight into Sammy’s life before the studio! Joey mentions he had already seen Sammy prior to their meeting at Chapter 6′s opening night party.

"I hadn’t realized right away when I met him properly on the eve of my thirtieth birthday that I’d seen him before. Only in that first conversation was it revealed he’d worked for the Grand Cinema as a teenager. I remembered him then easily. I’d been so impressed by the quality of the music that I’d hardly noticed the film.”

Sammy had already been working in the film industry before taking up Joey’s job offer-- looks like his job was to play live music scores to accompany film visuals.

“The music he (Sammy) made felt effortless but what was just as striking was his focus. The way he stared at the screen before him, watching the film as keenly as any of us in the audience.”

"It was an incredible show and I remember the audience applauding at the end of the film, which didn’t happen all the time.”

Not only was Sammy skilled at his job, but it looks like he had a deep predilection for cinema. I wonder how things would’ve turned out for him if he’d continued his path in the film industry.

Personality (oh boy)

Pre-ink

All the information prior to TIOL (audio tapes, DCTL, etc.) point to Sammy being adherent to a specific archetype: the tortured artist. He’s artistic, sensitive, and immensely talented-- however, he’s also irritable and blunt. (“I just hope nobody tells Sammy. Because if he finds out I lost my keys again, I’m out of here!”)

Luckily, TIOL adds more nuance to his characterization! Before becoming affected by the living ink of the studio, it seems that Sammy was fairly quiet and very much introverted.

“’Sammy!’ called out one of the supporting actors in a low baritone. The man at the piano shook his head. He seemed annoyed. I thought it was funny, I didn’t realize that it wasn’t an act. That Sammy was not a fan of attention and definitely didn’t like putting on a show like this.”

When conversing with Joey, he speaks in a curt, brief manner, never bothering with hollow pleasantries. He’s not one to sugarcoat his questions, consequently offending one very ego-driven Mr. Joey Drew. (He only gets away with it since Joey is so enamored with the idea of hiring him, but we’ll expand on that later.)

“”I’d like to talk to you two,” I said, smiling as warmly as I could. I wanted them to know I was a friend. But of course Sammy just stared back at me. “About what?” he asked curtly.”

“Sammy reluctantly nodded. I had no idea then why he was making such a fuss, honestly still don’t know to this day what makes him a grouch, but if being a grouch means beautiful music, I have no problem with that, I’ll tell you.”

““Joey Drew, owner of Joey Drew Studios,” I replied. “And what’s a Joey Drew Studios?” asked Sammy, lighting a cigarette from the darkness by the stone wall at the edge of the terrace. Yes, he said it in that dismissive tone. I didn’t understand why he needed to talk to me like that. I didn’t respect it. I was starting to doubt my own judgment. Did I really want to offer the opportunity of a lifetime to someone so extreme in their indifference?” (Side note: “What’s a Joey Drew Studios” absolutely knocked me out. Joey being incredibly offended about it didn’t help.)

““That was me, I remember you now. You are quite the talent,” I replied. “I know,” he said.”

Being a man of (very) few words, it seems that Sammy doesn’t express his thoughts much, either. Oftentimes, he’ll simply drift off in the middle of a conversation to ponder something with no additional context given. (Essentially, he just throws things out there and expect people to understand exactly where he’s coming from)

““Joey Drew Studios,” he said again, mulling it over. “So like film?” I nodded. “Sure, like that,” I replied. ... “You like movies,” he said, nodding back. Was he imitating me now? “I do.””

““Can we watch a movie?” asked Sammy. “A movie?” Sammy always had and still does have a way of surprising you with what he’ll say or do next."

What Sammy doesn’t say with words, he conveys with the occasional bemused facial expression. Joey finds this especially fascinating, often scrutinizing him closely in an attempt to figure him out. I imagine he treats it as some kind of game.

“Jack was duly impressed, Sammy was unreadable. Typical Sammy.”

““Why do I know you?” he asked then. He was looking at me carefully now. Not in the same suspicious manner. He was truly trying to figure out the answer to his question.”

“Jack on the other hand seemed to love it. “You can feel the creativity!” he said. Sammy said nothing, of course."

“Jack looked at Sammy, then back at me with an expression of “I have no idea what he’s thinking.”"

In fact, Joey has an incredibly unhealthy obsession with trying to read Sammy which begot this... fascinating passage:

“He (Sammy) leaned back on both elbows on the stone wall. Beneath him Fifth Avenue roared and certain death would come to anyone who toppled over the edge down onto it. The man definitely had confidence in that wall. I had a sudden urge to give him a shove. Not push him over, but just to see his reaction. This might sound strange, but I needed to see a human moment from him, I needed to see the man he was hiding from me.”

A mysterious guy for sure.

As if his lack of willingness to verbally communicate wasn’t difficult enough, Sammy is shown to be very, very stubborn and demanding. (Artists, am I right?)

When asked to work for Joey, he first demands that he receives a tour around the studio. Before Joey can even start to schedule a date, Sammy pulls a Sammy:

““How do I know it’s real?” Sammy asked. “Oh it’s real,” I replied. Sammy stepped toward me out of the dark ... “Show me.” I nodded. “Of course, let’s schedule a tour for some time this week,” I said. ... “No,” he said, inching toward me. “Now.” “Now?” “Now.”” (Now I know for one that Joey’s heart DEFINITELY skipped a beat there)

Upon visiting the studio, Sammy kindly (?!) gives his unsolicited input on a group of characters he’s never seen before:

““Do you have other characters?” asked Sammy, not turning around. “A wolf,” I replied. “Boris,” I added. “Good name!” said Jack, turning in his seat and grinning at me. “You need a girl,” said Sammy.” (No maidens???)

Thanks, buddy.

Finally, Joey manages to win him over, to which newly hired Sammy Lawrence responds:

“Finally Sammy spoke again. “I want full creative control over my department. I want to hire my own people. And if the money isn’t good, I’m not signing the contract.” ... “Ol’ Sammy, a man who knows his own mind,” said Jack with a laugh."

It’s a very bold move to speak to your boss like this, but I fully support it. It’s no secret that Sammy is very talented and fully aware of this fact-- I’m very glad he knows his worth :) (Although signing that contract did lead to him becoming a cultist stuck in a time loop)

Post-Ink (I’ll likely touch on his post-ink self and descent into insanity on another post once I find my copy of DCTL!)

That’s all I have the energy for now, but there is one more thing I’d like to touch on: Norman. 

Unfortunately, there is no mention (that I know of) of Norman in TIOL. Perhaps this is because he was hired later on, partly thanks to our very own Sammy Lawrence :)

“Sammy looked around the room. “I’ll need a projector,” he said. “A projector?” I asked. He nodded. “To play with the movie.” Of course, I realized then. Of course. That was what he did best, improvise as the movie played. “Yes! A projector booth, of course, that will be our top priority.” I added it to the mental list I’d started months ago.”

Looks like Sammy was indirectly responsible for the projection booth in the music department! I love the unexpected eye for detail he has when it comes to the video side of the production process. His enthusiasm shows in his insistence on watching the films he plays to, which I find very sweet.

I’ll probably follow this up with posts about Sammy’s in-studio relationships and one focused on his post-ink ‘prophet’ self. Thanks for sticking around for so long!

As for my final thoughts on Sammy, Joey says it best: “I’d never trade Sammy Lawrence for anything.”

[thecoleopterawithana]

Hello!

I'm looking for a section of the lunchroom tape (from the Get Back sessions) where John says something to Paul along the lines of "I mean, you've only recently realised what you were doing to me". Does that ring any bells?

You seem to know your way around amoralto's archives, and I'm not having any luck searching there :)

Thanks!

Hi, @i-am-the-oyster (love the name, by the way)!

I think you might be referring to this section of the Lunchroom Tape:

JOHN: And it’s just that, you know. It’s only this year that you’ve suddenly realised, like who I am, or who he is, or anything like that.

I find this bit of the conversation particularly impenetrable; and all the more fascinating because of it. It's here that we have this famed exchange (whose full meaning still eludes me):

JOHN: Because you – ’cause you’ve suddenly got it all, you see. PAUL: Mm. JOHN: I know that, because of the way I am, like when we were in Mendips, like I said, “Do you like me?” or whatever it is. I’ve always – uh, played that one. PAUL: [laughs nervously] Yes. JOHN: So. PAUL: Uh, I’d been watching, I’d been watching. I’d been watching the picture. YOKO: Go back to George. What are we going to do about George?

I encourage folks to go listen to the full audio and transcript and try their hand at decoding it!

I don't know if it's accessible on the mobile app, but @amoralto has a separate page with links to all the Get Back excerpts, listed in chronological order. It's a pretty neat resource if you want to just binge through interesting little snippets from these sessions (some that made it onto the documentary, and many that didn't).

To those curious about the Lunchroom Tape in particular, here's a (play)list of all the transcribed excerpts, with @amoralto's descriptions for context:

We Have Egos

Over lunch, the remaining Beatles touch on George’s resignation from the band on the 10th, as well as a group meeting held the previous day which ended in less than desirable circumstances (with George leaving the room, frustrated by John’s persistently Yoko-filtered standard of communication). While Yoko contends that it would be easy for John (and Paul) to regain George’s favour, John points out that this is a more deeply-rooted issue than it may seem, compounded over the years by John and Paul’s treatment of George and his defaulted status within the group. Upon this problem of overriding egos, however, Paul suggests (passive-aggressively) that it isn’t just the Lennon-and-McCartney tandem that is causing George upset and consternation. 

Jealousy For You

As the problem of George’s current resignation from the band is discussed, John makes it about him and Paul wonders what it’s all worth.

The Way We All Feel Guilty About Our Relationship To Each Other

John contends with how the force of his partnership with Paul and his relationship with Yoko has negatively affected George and perhaps directly contributed to George’s walkout on the group three days prior.

Cabbage

During a discussion on how the rest of the group should move forward after George’s departure on the 10th, John wonders if they should get George back at all, suggesting his role as a Beatle is replaceable (unlike his own or Paul’s), and likens this unkindly to how Ringo first replaced Pete Best. Paul notes that John has been the top buck in getting himself heard (and getting his way) since the inception of the group (which John protests) and quickly reassures Ringo when he wryly declares himself to be little more than rabbit food for the group. Paul admits that both he and John have done one over on George, albeit unconsciously as an effect of the competition and unaware of how it may have hurt George in the process, but John argues that he’s known since early childhood how manipulative he himself can be, and has tried to curb it to little avail.

What You Are

In the middle of a personal discussion with John and Ringo about the band, its tenuous future, and their relationships with one another, Paul (in response to John’s admission of insecurity in the face of external pressures from the public and media to perform) is emphatic about his faith in them and their abilities and contends that whatever interpersonal problems they have can be resolved, for what their music is worth.

Working At A Relationship

While Yoko and Paul conduct their own conversation with each other, Linda talks to John about the inevitable difficulties any relationship faces - even in the context of a musical partnership - and why it doesn’t prove the relationship itself is an expired one. John (inexplicably or not) laments that the White Album doesn’t sound like the genuine, inspired band collaboration they achieved in the past. 

You've Got To Blame Yourself

As Paul encourages an unconfident Ringo to go ahead with his plans to record a solo LP, John hedgingly brings up his own apprehensions about following his instincts (especially when he’s not even sure what he really wants to do). In their inimitable and emotionally non-committal fashion, John and Paul engage in metaphors about intentions, conveying these intentions in actions, and how these actions may be conveyed by those who see it. (Basically: what John and Paul talk about when they talk about love.)

How Much More Have I Done Towards Helping You Write?

John and Paul have an obfuscating conversation about their songwriting partnership and creative process, which has been incapacitated by a lack of direction, misplaced (misread) intentions, and the unmet (unrealised) expectations they’ve inflicted upon each other. (In other words: issues. And some projecting of issues onto George, for good measure.)

What We're All About

In the midst of a personal discussion about working together within the band, John tries to explain the disconnect in their process, and why he can’t envision their songs the way Paul can. As both John and Paul circle around the issues of honest communication and (living up to) each other’s expectations, they eventually project onto George bring George into the quandary of the Lennon-McCartney partnership. 

[thealogie]

I have to say I’m so impressed with British theatre’s accessibility effort. They always have audio description performances with touch tours beforehand, sensory adapted performances and good availability for sign language and captioned performances. I think those two are pretty standard now but I just saw that the young Vic is doing a couple of relaxed performances. Not something I was familiar with but it’s so awesome!