#but anyway since it was going on top that required blackout work and also putting new ink on top of old ink which is difficult to do

[sage-nebula]

when I was getting my tattoo on Saturday my artist kept telling me like, "It's okay if you need to tap out, I won't be pissed or think less of you, we can come back to finish in another session," because honestly for this particular tattoo the pain was severe and about halfway through I started involuntarily cringing and squeezing the pillow I was laying on very hard and other such involuntary shows of how much pain I was in. (such as flinching hard when she had to wipe excess ink / blood / plasma away, because good god somehow the damp paper towel felt worse than the needle.)

but each time I refused. "the only way out is through," I said. nearer the end I said, "if you need to tap out though, I understand" because she had to put on a brace for her back because of the angle at which she had to be hunched over to finish the tattoo. but she didn't tap out either.

anyway I saw a meme with Shadow the Hedgehog that was like, "stop DMing me that 'are you ok' shit, obviously I'm not but we move" and my immediate thought was, "me @ my artist during my tattoo session on Saturday."

[themidnightfarmer]

Mo(m)relia knows best || Morelia & Jared

Timing: During the season 1 finale.

Location: The farm

Tagging: @morelias & @themidnightfarmer

Description: Morelia comes to Jared’s aid, and promises are made.

Triggers: injury tw? 

It was strange caring for another being - well, caring for one that wasn’t either her dog nor her… Boyfriend, or whatever they were. But Morelia still found herself making her way through the familiar path towards Jared’s farm with a fabric bag hanging from her shoulder, inside a first aid kit that contained, perhaps, more than just first aid items. Unlike other fae, Nymphs weren’t particularly known for their healing abilities which was why the lampade sometimes smuggled medical tools from their job at the hospital to keep at home if she would ever need them, like when she had to stitch up her arm after a werewolf attack not too long ago, or now, to fix whatever Jared had managed to do to his bite wound. Once the gates were in sight, clearly illuminated by the strong light of the full moon, Morelia stopped moving forward, the sound of enraged animals faint but noticeable in the distance. If she could hear them, then it couldn’t be good. The only reason she didn’t fear visiting him despite the potential threat of angry beasts eating her was because she could just poof herself out of there. Taking her phone out, she sent the male nymph a quick text, letting him know she had arrived.

As the night started to close in, the impact of the sudden blackouts from the eye sun blinking started to lessen. Although admittedly not by much. With their routine blown and their emotions on edge Jared was having a hard time keeping up with his animals. The beasts were running him ragged and had been for days now. Thus the bite. He was usually on top of everything way better than this, but with ALL of them going a little crazy he’d lost focus for a moment and the proof lay under the tape on his arm. Receiving the text he sighed a small sigh of relief and hopped the gate. Looking back over his shoulder multiple times until he reached Morelia. “Hey Mo.” he greeted with a sheepish sort of smile. His arm was taped from wrist to elbow, and the bicep had a small rash where tape had already been pulled off the massive bite. It spanned his whole left arm -although half was still covered with tape. A particularly nasty cry sounded behind him and he cringed. “Maybe we should go a little bit further down the path. My tractor is parked over there.” 

Black hues immediately landed on the taped arm, a concerned look quickly covering Morelia’s features. It made sense that people thought putting duct tape on a wound could help; in practical terms, it did help a little, helping stop a bleeding and potentially holding together something that on its own wouldn’t in case of larger wounds. But that was just for a short term, and the lampade quickly moved and reached forward to delicately take his arm between her hands, already trying to examine him. She had told a guy online that she had the knowledge necessary for psychiatric patients, but her knowledge extended far beyond that after living and taking her own part in the american civil war. “You said it had bitten you, not that it had tried to rip your arm off.” Looking up, after the cry reached her ears, she shook her head slightly, and she motioned him with her head to start walking with her. “If the size shows anything, it's that I might need to stitch you up. Tending you inside would be much easier, quicker and, of course, more sanitary, but a tractor will do.”

“She didn’t actually try to take my arm off, it looks worse than it is Mo.” he tried to placate her. It was a large bite, but that was only because the animal in question was large in itself. Bies were massive beings -how he passed them off as cows was a mystery to him as well sometimes. But then again with how many human deniers lived in town it wasn’t hard so hard with a little glamour. “She just doesn’t know her own strength.” he defended his charge gently with a soft look in his eyes. No matter the damage his kids would accidentally do to him he’d never think any less of them. It happened so infrequently nowadays he hardly had moments like these. Maybe that’s why he was so lacking in medical equipment. “I’ve got a water pipe that runs alongside the trail to the gate, we can wash it out.” Jared was honestly just pleased someone was there to see to it. He genuinely hadn’t been prepared, and honestly with how everyone online had reacted to the tape idea he should feel very lucky she made her way out. He moved off by her side and shrugged. “It’s okay Mo I’m a little more resistant to bies bites, it’s kind of my life at this point.”

Black hues rolled to the back of her head, and a soft but audible sigh left her lips. There was enough medical experience in Morelia to know that when someone claimed their situation wasn’t as bad, it meant the complete opposite, especially when you were dealing with stubborn kids like Jared. “I will be the one to decide that.” The fact that the male nymph had all these dangerous creatures with him didn’t quite shock her as much as the fact that he could keep them under control - despite her own fondness towards animals and, well, critters in general, she had to admit that his bond and how it helped him deal with them was admirable; something to be jealous of, even, if she cared enough. “Well, that certainly does not help me worry less about your well being, my dear.” A side glance as they walked, the worry still present in her features. “I know these creatures are your… thing, but you ought to be more careful. Especially in a strange town like this.”

He couldn’t argue with her there. She was the expert in this one, even if he was technically more knowledgeable about what a bies bite might do in the long run. “It’s been years since I got a bite like this,” Jared tried to argue with her. “I’ve gotten so much better this last year at really truly communicating with them. The eye in the sky just kind of shot the connection. The increased stress on the kids made one start running itself a little too ragged. So I stepped in. It was going well until another blackout hit, got crunched for my efforts. But only because I shoved my arm between it and a passing bonedoggle. I like my charges alive you know.” He explained as they approached the tractor. “Lived here my whole life Mo, nothing really scares me so much anymore. Just sort of have to get on with it you know?...thanks for coming out though, appreciate it. Genuinely thought tape was a good idea.” he laughs sheepishly. 

“And that is exactly why I’m leaving this--” She raised her kit for enfasis. “-- here with you. The next time you require professional medical attention, either for another bite or large cut or any other situations involving your animals, you will call me and not try to follow the advice of strangers online, because that is not smart. Do you agree?” Morelia hated promise binding a fellow fae, but with how stubborn this kid and seeming that going to the hospital was out of the question, it looked like the only way. The tractor was already on sight, and for a moment she hated the fact that she was wearing a dress and heels, because getting on that would prove to be a challenge. But alas. Fashion comes first. “I’m not telling you to neglect your… kids.” She winced when mentioning the word, slightly disgusted that she had actually said it out loud. “Just to be careful. We have a funny eye sun that I thankfully don’t get to experience. There were fish falling from the sky. Who knows if the next hellish curse this down gets is random animal possession.”

He was completely innocent to the fact she was promise binding him into something until he’d already uttered the words “Ok Mo, I’ll do that.” And then his face went slack and he stopped walking. “Why did you do that to me?” He thought through her wording even if he couldn’t do anything about it now. “You’re going to get sick and tired of being my personal nurse.” He warned her. “That was a dirty trick.” he accuses then but does continue walking anyway. He did need her to look at his arm this time, he supposed she’d be doing this every time from now on. Reaching the tractor Jared offered Morelia a hand, and his knee to boost her so that she could climb into the cab. “I’d be able to feel it. I have a handle on them usually, the eye is just….offputting.” 

Morelia couldn’t help but sigh when the other so willingly accepted her promise, almost disappointed at how he hadn’t touched the terms at all. Still, she laughed when he rebuked her, not stopping with him when he did, but slowing down her pace for him to catch up. “Oh, Jared love. You should know better by now. Perhaps we should add fae lessons to that deal, since you seem to need them terribly.” Her tone was playful, and though what she said could’ve easily be taken as an insult, she really meant her offer to help him. Once he helped and both were settled in the tractor, Morelia searched inside her now almost empty fabric bag for her phone and, after turning in the flashlight, she . “I need you to illuminate my lap so I can work.” Once she made sure he was doing that, Morelia carefully grabbed his taped arm and slowly pulled it towards her, hands softly tapping it and applying light pressure as she made her way down from his elbow to wrist, eyes moving from the arm to the fae to see where it hurt most. “I will try to take this off without major inconveniences, but I’m afraid that also means I cannot rip it off fast to make it hurt less.” And then after a beat, and just because she was used to the hospital protocols, she added- “Does that sound okay?”

Jared found himself in this situation all the time. Not looking deeply enough into things that he should have. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be savvy enough to pick up on everything that a more experienced fae would. He supposed that promise wasn’t all too bad. Having a person to call when he required a little bit of hands on aid wasn’t the worst. And Morelia was -at least to him- kind enough to care. He held the phone and didn’t stop singing her praises while she worked. He appreciated her help, and if that came at the price of ALWAYS needing to contact her for similar instances so be it. 

[kekekentyuh]

The Quirks and Qualms of Online Class

The global pandemic terrorizing us as of the moment has taken so much of our lives when limited social contact was introduced. Preventing the virus from spreading further has reduced our lives to crumbs, robbing a lot of us of the chance to create a better life for ourselves in the outside world, forcing us to powerlessly retreat within the walls of our homes. And sadly, to say the very least, even the education system wasn’t safe from the Corona effect.

Remote learning seems to be the next logical step that most academic institutions can come up with because of the whole social distancing thing. For a while, it was a step so many dreaded to take because of how evident it was that it was just a disaster begging to take place — the countless government officials continuously campaigning to push through with the academic year weren’t of good help either — although it eventually arrived to a point where it was the only thing they could think of. Some have already opted to use this means of providing as early as April to finish off the previous school year, or summer semesters in some university constituents, all in little steps, but in general, we all know how it is: this type of learning is new to most of us, especially for those of us who are used to face to face learning, and we’re all learning to adjust to it while we’re still contained indoors.

The university I attend already had us undergo the whole process of online learning during our Midyear semester last June, where we took a couple of subjects that we were supposed to enroll in for the summer had the world not gone batshit crazy, opting only to open the possibility of attending that midyear semester for those who are required to do so in their respective course program curricula. We held synchronous online sessions via Zoom, where meetings were recorded for everyone's access, making for more accessible resources for note-taking, and used the online learning platform Canvas as pilot testers (both accounts provided by the university itself along with our emails) that we utilized for transfer of information, like learning materials and paperless, digital submissions, generally, and it all seemed to work, for a term that lasted a month maximum. But even before it began, I had a lot of qualms and reservations, particularly on how it’s all going to play out, and how it’s going to affect my performance and my academic standing, because up to that point, I’ve never taken any class or required academic sessions within virtual online learning platforms (not that I was happy while I was taking it, anyway; it’s a hellhole waiting to burst like a pimple). And that was just for a Midyear semester, which was four weeks at most; given how they’re planning to have this coming regularly-paced semester (shortened for the purpose of everyone’s convenience, although I’m pretty sure that’s going to do more harm than benefit, especially for students) purely on remote learning accords, we have no idea how we’re all going to take it on, not with major subjects and a lot of skill-based outputs being asked of us, which are probably much, much heavier than the countless submissions we had to do previously. 

But you know what the boomers think: it’s all better than letting the school year just fly away, they didn’t have access to privileges like this so we’d better put up with it. Go now, plan later; and to that, I say one thing — you can’t stop a runaway train.

Even though one month of putting up with this mess is probably just a rough estimate of just how grueling an entire semester online is going to be, I would like to share a few of the things that I’ve noticed about remote learning that are not so great, and, to be completely unbiased, fine by my own judgment. I’m going to use the experiences me and my fellow Biology majors had whilst taking them to truly evaluate how effective it is for university students here in the Philippines, all with the company of you, my dear readers. This is, however, limited to the things we’ve experienced, and may vary for different situations, like from the point of view of a faculty member or a student of a different school, so please, take all of this with a grain of salt. We have no idea if things are going to play out exactly like they did previously, but it’s good to know a few things to prepare ourselves, right? Consider this as sort of a primer — from one lousy college student to another. If we’re going to deal with this bullshit, we’re going to look at it together. 

For starters, remote learning is kind of energy efficient — and when I say that, I don’t mean chill. God, no; it’s anything but. The main thing I really like about learning from home is that it saves us a lot more time and physical energy than how much we usually need to attend face to face classes. It’s a very striking point, and I’m sure some may see it beneficial, especially those who still need to put up with the commute to go on campus. We don’t have to worry more about budgeting our time between classes and activities outside, like what time we’d have to wake up so we can have more time to get ready for our day ahead, or where to eat and what to wear to go out. We can wear home clothes while attending classes (not like your clothes even matter, anyway; at least not in UP) and don’t have to deal with the headaches and heartburns you get when you try commuting in the Metro, since we’re all just indoors. And let’s not forget, for someone who attends a university situated in the middle of a bustling city with people of all shapes and sizes that you can never trust, being confined to our homes means we are in a much safer environment, where we wouldn’t have to worry about being robbed every fifteen seconds or won’t have to look twice so every passing vehicle gets a lesser chance of ejecting us off the street. We’re all sitting within the walls of our homes, so we have lesser things to worry about logistically, so to speak. Besides, stepping outside is even more of a risk now than ever, and making available materials to access at home may reduce the probability of that risk getting the best of us, so at least that’s out of the way, like it’s supposed to be.

One thing that also struck me about remote learning is how it’s heavily dependent on how you pace your studies and work. Since your learning environment consists mostly of you and the digital materials, apart from the synchronous classes some professors require, a lot of the time, the way you’re going to deal with this is mainly on how you decide to work on it and how your pace with regards to taking everything on would be, and since there are scheduled deadlines and exams, and you can’t afford to lose any of your precious time monkeying around, albeit the hard way, you’ll definitely learn to manage your time on your own. It’s not completely individual, as there were still group tasks and outputs to be submitted as a unit, but since you’re all alone in your workspace, it’ll all depend on how well you manage to properly do these requirements. Time management is a key factor in college, or in any school level setting really, a skill better than any studying technique you will ever come across, since it helps a student tackle the countless loads of work being tossed their way without it stacking up to immediate doom, and remote learning prompts one to find the method that allows one to work with the flow the easiest — kind of like the perfect key to crank up an engine.

But the thing about remote learning is, for a whole student system not entirely prepared and properly equipped for it, the cons outweigh the pros — by about a mile.

To put it simply, limited contact is much more stressful in the parts of those who are actually involved in the setup, which are, primarily, the student and the teacher. Home environments, right up the first bullet, are not all conducive learning environments. This is entirely dependent on various factors, which may range from more personal ones, like unfavorable familial setups or various distractions at home, or more logistical ones, like the location of the home itself, all contributing to numbers and numbers of disruptive tendencies, none of which are under the child’s control, which may result to their lack of focus or increased anxiety. Home environments are not made for learning, unlike schools and universities where students are free to study without any distractions, and this may hold back the smooth process of their learning if continuous and entirely destructive — and there’s nothing the students nor the instructors can do about it but stress out. The number one most notorious culprit of them all, undeniably, would be the alarmingly appalling mediocrity of the Internet connection the majority has access to, which, on particularly bad days, may result to unfavorable situations almost unexpectedly, like constantly being cut off from the session and unclear instructions from professors, mostly, who have unfavorable access to the Internet themselves. The constant unannounced power cutoffs in some parts of the country (which is, personally, my biggest qualm and pet peeve that I have developed during quarantine) would come in at a close second, especially since a lot of these blackouts have no given range, much to the dismay of the consumers. On top of these are some unexpected inconveniences, like glitchy learning environments and faulty instructor-to-student communication, brought by lack of time synchronization, mostly, that may not seem like much, but can make this whole experience a whole lot shittier than it actually is. 

And what’s even more stressful is the few solutions to these problems can all but do so much; mobile data as a substitute for WiFi connections can only give us so much with promos and the money it costs, but in the end, it’s still no match for the data requirements synchronous meeting platforms like Zoom or Google Meet require, so it’s best to just skip the class than waste your time and data trying to reconnect. Instructor-prepared course packs, which contain all materials needed for the subject, definitely designed to cater to students who lack the resources to make it to online classes, may work, but there’s still a lot of considerations that need to be made for their evaluations, which, preferably, need to match with the rest of the class they’re in. I know — no one wins here, except probably only the officials of our crappy Internet providers, happy that they still have a lot of people to leech out of.

The curriculum of the various degree programs students are enrolled in are at stake, because so much adjustments need to be done in order for them to be suitable for the online setting that they all, well, don’t feel like genuine learning methods anymore. Skill-based programs, like mine in Biology, for example, are particularly affected by these changes, since the materials and the opportunities for us to learn the skills we need for our degree are out there: at the labs, at the campus, out at the world. The pertinence of the development of methods to teach these practical courses with limited contact cannot be denied, but actually fulfilling those requirements physically and learning them with your own experience is something with much more impact, and that can’t be denied, too. The limits imposed on learning these necessarily skills will also limit the students to what they’re being given; if they’re given half the materials to make a bun of bread, they’ll only come up with half of that bun, because they’re given so limited resources. We don’t even know how lab classes will take place — how are we supposed to be sure we’re going to learn from them? Not only that, but the curriculum coming to play is at stake, too; take synchronous evaluation procedures, for instance. Does anyone want to take a quiz or an exam with relentlessly flopping Internet, with electrical power that plays Russian Roulette every single day of the year? Of course not, because you want to do as well as you possibly can in this exam. Do you want to wake up to a blaring, incomplete grade because the assignment file you’ve busted your ass for just didn’t make it through the portal, although you swore to your underwear drawer that you did? Of course not, and that’s why checking the submission box three times is almost nothing. So much of the learning process is being compromised and limited by a lot of factors outside of our control, it’s almost impossible to bounce back into the much-favored learning headspace we all desire to be in. We’re spending so much time worrying about not being able to learn because of so many things around us glitching that we lose, albeit gradually, our focus on actually learning.

These factors all narrow down to one big boulder about to trample one smacking detail within us: our mental health. It’s already bad enough that we’re dealing with the health crisis erupting everywhere around us, a health crisis that doesn’t seem to want to tone down anytime soon, and hearing and seeing so much of the tragedy it’s bringing to our country continuously, but we have to also constantly worry about whether or not we’re learning the right things or submitting the right things on time and still making sure we’re doing our best despite all of it. Imagine the constant anxiety and the rigid schedule of a regular semester multiplied thrice, all dumped online — with a few adjustments here and a few tweaks there, but almost inaccessible to some, and too much for many. You're not even sure, at any given point within the months-long span of supposed learning, if you're doing it to actually absorb the knowledge, or just fulfilling it because it's a requirement, and just hurriedly making sure everything is taken care of because you don't have any more energy to drag it on longer. That’s how mentally draining it is. And I get that I might be exaggerating (I have an underlying tendency to do so; forgive me, my bad) but who’s to say that it may not ring true for some? If you’re anything like me, who finds comfort in the company of peers, in the little things like building a routine and sticking to it, distracting yourself with new, uncharted things every day, and managing your stress outside the confinements of a house, then it’s probably taking a huge toll on you, too. 

But all that’s nothing compared to those directly affected by the pandemic, like the family members of healthcare workers, those whose main modes of making a living were laid off due to contact protocols, and, most importantly, those who lost so many people dear to them because of a virus no one can contain. I can’t explain how much my heart cracks in my chest when I see a student looking to social media to ask for a means to fund his schooling, or when a person I rarely know is knocking to ask for a few pesos to get their ailing family members through. Remote learning, online classes, really, would work just fine — if you belong above that margin. If you have access to resources without going scathed, have nothing else to do but focus on what’s important for you, and leave the rest of the world outside your door. The exclusivity of remote learning is striking, and it’s extremely absurd how much people want to push through with it despite so many consequences for so many unwilling benefactors  — six million children, to be exact — left behind. Children should never have to beg, lose themselves, or destroy themselves to be able to learn, because it’s their right to be given a chance to be the best they can by pursuing this education to the fullest extent. Apparently many people disagree.

Let me call remote learning for what it really is — a temporary aid, unsustainable way of dragging the students to uncharted waters. It’s a band-aid solution, meant to temporarily do what needs to be done while the future is still unknown. So many calls to stop the year from coming up have been put out there, as well as so much postponing and halting of the flow of inconcrete plans, promising to improve, but time and time again, to nothing; and amid so many calls for help, just within the education sector, there has been no reliable answer. Academic Freeze, which aims to halt the school year altogether, is not a plausible way of resolving this, as it is only student centered; although it may be beneficial for us, a lot of employees in the education system may lose their modes of income as well, which may lead to a shortcoming in their part. But given that, we also cannot turn our backs from the fact that so much of the student population, almost six million, will not be able to enroll, because education is a right that every child must be given, and if one child deserves to go on studying, they all deserve to. And postponing the opening of the academic year and delaying what is to come can only do so much.

Contain the pandemic — that’s the answer. If this administration, particularly the department concerned with this issue, truly cares about the rights of every Filipino to quality, equitable, culture-based and complete basic education, then they’ll take the necessary steps to put an end to this and protect not only those rights, but, to the administration itself, the welfare of their people.

Delaying the problem isn’t putting an end to it, because what’s only slowing down is going to gain momentum later on.

So many thoughts and so many words! What did you think about these experiences? And if your’re from the Philippines, what do you think about the Department of Education’s response to this rising concern? I’d love to hear your thoughts! Let me know by reaching me through the Inquiries page, or through my social media here I'd love to hear from anybody!

Like always, I wish everyone is doing well, being safe and secure, and in good health! I hope everyone is taking care of themselves by sanitizing and garnering a healthy lifestyle! It means a lot to me that you're here reading. Thanks for staying, and I’ll see you on the next one!

[rahirah]

Okay, I KNOW you've reblogged that "DVD commentary" meme at some point in your life, so: would you like to do DVD commentary on the opening scene of "My Baby Is A Centerfold"? (Or less detailed commentary on the whole "My Baby Is A Centerfold"?)

My Baby Is A Centerfold DVD Commentary

I wrote this story in 2004, fifteen years ago, so fair warning, I don't recall a lot of the minutiae that went through my head when I was writing it. However, I will do my best!

This was one of the first short stories I wrote set in the same universe as my novel series. I wrote it for the Summer of Spike community over on Livejournal – Summer of Spike was, I believe, the first of the "seasonal" fic communities, and inspired a lot of imitators (including Seasonal Spuffy and Summer of Giles, which are still going to this day) but it only lasted for a couple of rounds. Anyway, someone had recently asked me what happened to the Trio in my 'verse. I already knew that the Trio had started their careers as criminal masterminds while the events of Necessary Evils were going on, and that after NE ends, Warren would try enslaving Katrina in pretty much the same way, Katrina would end up dead, and Warren would try to frame Buffy. Buffy being in a very different frame of mind by this point in my 'verse, while she initially panics at the thought that she accidentally killed someone, Spike and Dawn are able to convince her to investigate first. And of course they discover that Katrina's been dead for several hours, so they call the police and that's when Terminal Line takes place, and Buffy makes first contact with Detective Nguyen, who becomes a recurring NPC and eventually the captain of the Sunnydale PD and is instrumental in Buffy's plan to bring the supernatural out in the open and ANYWAY.

For this story I wanted to do a lighthearted buddy cop sort of thing with Spike and Dawn, and it occurred to me that the Trio would have had to have set up their spy camera system, but since they all got arrested after the Katrina incident, they never had the chance to do anything with the footage. And in my 'verse, some of that footage would have been pretty racy. So what would happen if Buffy and Spike found out about it? The story pretty much wrote itself from there.

I could tell something was wrong the minute I walked in the door. The house had that too-quiet thundercloud feeling about it, and it wasn't just because of the blackout curtains. Buffy was still at the rink, Tara was at her summer job, and Willow was probably asleep (she's not as much of an early riser as Spike is). Normally this means an afternoon of bad TV and junk food with Spike, but the TV wasn't on. Spike always has the TV on.

So this story takes place between Necessary Evils and A Parliament of Monsters, when Spike has moved in with Buffy and Dawn, and Willow and Tara are renting the Summers's basement. It always bugged me that the characters on the show only had to worry about work when the plot required it. When the writers get bored, Buffy can suddenly support a dozen people on a starting school counselor's salary. So while I try not to make a huge deal of it in my 'verse, I do a lot of thinking about how everyone supports themselves. Especially people like Tara, who's sure as hell not getting any money from her family. And with Buffy I wanted to give her a day job that A) she would enjoy, and B) would be flexible with regard to slaying. Which is how she became a skating instructor.

When Spike moved in there was a whole big reshuffling thing, like musical chairs with bedrooms, and Spike ended up getting my old room as an office for Bloody Vengeance Inc., the demon-hunting business he and Anya started. I figured he was probably holed up in there downloading porn or something. Never overlook an opportunity to collect blackmail material is my motto. I dumped my library books on the couch and snuck upstairs with super-Slayer's-sister stealth, which wouldn't do me any good at all if Spike was actually, like, paying attention to his super-keen vampire hearing. Which apparently he wasn't, since I got all the way upstairs without a single physically impossible threat bellowed in my direction.

I had an argument about this with another fic writer once – she felt that Spike threatening Dawn with physical harm was abusive and horrible, and Dawn would be traumatized for life. I pointed out that A) it's canon that Spike does this when he's worried about Dawn's safety, and B) even if you're not a soulless vampire, it's really common for fear in a de facto parental unit to express itself as anger, C) does anyone seriously believe that Spike would ever follow through on any of those over the top threats? Seriously? And D) Dawn canonically blows off said threats and does not appear to actually feel threatened in the slightest. We ended up agreeing to disagree.

Spike was in the office, all right--I could see his hair glowing in the light of the computer monitor. I couldn't see what he was looking at, but whatever it was, it must have been really good, 'cause his eyeballs were practically SuperGlued to the screen. Or maybe really bad, because he looked horrified, not turned on. OK, what horrified William the Bloody? Besides the prospect of squiring Buffy to "Fantasy On Ice?" This I had to see. I rounded Spike's desk and peered over his shoulder. "Hey, mister, you got feelthy pictures?"

If it was Willow? Two clicks of a mouse's tail and whatever was in that window would be closed, password protected, PGP-encrypted, and accessible only through an FTP server in Outer Mongolia. Spike's way better with technology than some vampires I could name, but when he's taken by surprise he still resorts to more primitive methods. He scrambled around in his chair with the panicky flail of a cat falling off a windowsill and slapped a hand across my eyes. "Don't look!" he ordered, about half an octave higher than usual.

This story is full of early 2000s-computer jargon. It's not quite as dated as the show itself, but I give it the ol' college try.

Which meant it was a moral imperative for me to put some of that self-defense training he'd been giving me into practice and kick him in the shins--oh, come on, you'd have done it, too. "Fuck!" Spike yelled. He grabbed for his ankle, overbalanced, and banged his head on the edge of the desk as his chair rolled out from under him. He crashed to the floor, leaving me with a free-and-clear view of the computer.

For someone who's been accused of writing the Everybody Loves Spike Show, I sure have him behave like an idiot a lot.

Now, I want to make it real clear that I'm a sixteen-year-old of the world. I know all about the birds and the bees and the vampires. I've even done a little buzzing myself. And of course I know that my sister and Spike have--well, 'having sex' is way too tame for what they do. Anyway, I know all about The Sex in theory. I also know how sausages are made, in theory. That doesn't mean I'm panting for an up-close at the gooey details of either process. Especially when it involves a grainy RealPlayer file of my very naked sister bouncing up and down on my very naked best-friend-and-platonic-lust-object in Barbie's S&M Playhouse.

I may have written this whole story just to have an excuse to use the term "Barbie's S&M Playhouse."

I may have said something. It may have been 'gleep.' Luckily for my retinas, at that minute Spike lunged up over the edge of the desk and put his fist through the screen. The monitor exploded in a shower of pretty green sparks, and Spike stood there glaring at it all clenchy-jawed and snarly, breathing hard through his teeth. He turned the glare on me. "I swear by all that's unholy, Bit, the next time you sneak up on me like that I'm going to put you in a two-by-three box without benefit of hacksaw!"

Monitors! With! TUBES!!!

I glared right back--no way was he going to make this my fault. "How was I supposed to know you were watching Vampire Pervert Theater 3000?" I snapped. "I thought you were just watching NORMAL porn! Jeez, Spike, if you and Buffy are gonna to videotape your stay in the Satellite of Love, at least--"

I had another discussion with a beta about whether or not Spike would download porn. My argument was "He's a guy." 

Spike vamped out and hurled the monitor clean off the desk and into the wall with a roar (and when I say 'roar,' I don't mean 'loud yell,' I mean 'roar') of "WE DIDN'T BLOODY WELL TAPE IT!"

Wow. I never knew monitors were made up of that many pieces. "You mean you taped it without telling her?" I squeaked.

"NO!" Spike flexed his computer-punching hand (bloody knuckles, shards of glass, v. sexy) and shook off the lumpies. "Someone soon-to-be-departed did! I've never seen the sodding thing before in my life!" He looked really bewildered underneath the homicidal fury.

It's really very interesting to go back and compare Early Barbverse Spike to Late Barbverse Spike in terms of what progress he makes (or doesn't make) in controlling his temper over the course of the series. Hopefully I make the progression believable.

"OK, where did you find it?" I asked. I didn't exactly want to say so, but it occurred to me that maybe Buffy had taped it without telling him. Buffy may play it all Sandra Dee on the outside, but on the inside? Pure Gypsy Rose Lee. She had to keep it all bottled up during The Angel Years, and during The Riley Years she had to be really careful not to break him, and now, well--Exhibit A, currently lying in ten zillion pieces on the floor. "Was the file just sitting on your hard drive, or...?"

Spike looked super-guilty all of a sudden. His head ducked down between his shoulders, vampire ninja turtle style. "Mighthaveclickedonalinksomethin'boutSlayers," he mumbled.

"In other words, you were surfing for Slayer porn?" I folded my arms and settled in for some primo foot-tapping. "Don't you get enough of that at home?"

The interesting thing about the Buffyverse is that the supernatural ISN'T really a secret. Tons of people know about it. It's just no one admits to knowing about it. Which makes my Buffy's job a lot easier when she decides to drag it out of the closet. Which is a roundabout way of saying, if you know where to look, of course there would be Slayer fetish websites.

"I was not! I just...happened on it, like, looking for something else!" Spike is the world's second worst liar (Willow is the winner and still champeen) and he could see I wasn't buying it. "And anyway, it's a bloody good thing I did! Christ knows how long that's been out there for any spotty little deviant with their mum's credit card number to--" His eyes went Inuyasha-huge as fresh horror overtook him. "How long has it been out there?"

Barbverse Dawn is a Sesshumaru fangirl for sure.

"I'm more worried about who the cameraman was," I said. Spiders walked up my spine for a second. "I mean, that was your bedroom, right?"

Two seconds later we burst in through the door of Mom's old room, now Buffy and Spike's House of Ill Repute. I dove for the closet and Spike ripped open the door of the big old mahogany wardrobe he'd dragged over from the crypt. (But he didn't go inside, because as everyone knows, it's very foolish to shut yourself inside a wardrobe.) I stared at the crush of cute tops and kicky boots, ooh, I bet Buffy won't miss this one, she hasn't worn it in weeks... "How many shoes does she OWN?" I pulled a box free and the whole Leaning Tower Of Gucci collapsed on me.

My fic is usually a game of Spot the Narnia Reference

"Stop larking about," Spike growled, grabbing my feebly waving hand and yanking me out of the sea of footwear. "By the angle it's got to be around here somewhere..." He did one of those effortless vampire leaps and chinned himself on the top of the wardrobe, peering over the facade of wooden curlicues on the top. "Got the bastard!" He snaked one arm over the rim and jerked something small and black free, and dropped back to the floor with a thump. "What the hell...?"

It was a tiny, palm-sized camera with a little antenna sticking out of the top. Witness the creepiness. "I'm freaking out here," I said, plopping down on the bed. "Someone actually broke into our house and hid that up there!"

Spike snarled and closed his fist, and the camera joined the monitor in Electronics Heaven before I could yell, "Wait, that's evidence!"

"Not any more, it's not."

"It could lead us back to whoever planted it," I said impatiently. "We could have woken Willow up and had her...I don't know, do something technical."

This is why Spike needs Dawn around. She's the criminal mastermind in the family.

"Point." Spike shoved his lower lip out and scowled. "If there's one, there may be more. In fact, there's got to be."

I blinked. "How can you tell?"

He looked guilty and embarrassed again. "Ah, well, you see, the web site said...

For a guy supposedly unable to feel remorse, Spike does guilty and embarrassed very well.

*****

"Oh, as they say, my God." Xander stared at the tiny repeating clip with sick fascination. "'The Hottest Slayer in a Century Meets The Coolest Vampire Ever, and Guess Who Gets Staked! Sizzling Action With Cold, Dead Seed!' And this is just the teaser. You can order a whole DVD, only $49.99. Hours of fun for the whole family."

I am pretty sure that Jonathan got Andrew to write that advertising copy.

"Well, I must say both of you have excellent technique," Anya said with an approving nod. "And Spike has a large and well-formed penis, though personally I prefer circumcised men. But I can certainly understand why you're upset if you're not getting your rightful share of the profits."

"Spike, could you cool it with the growly noises?" Willow asked, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "It's distracting. OK, there's definitely more cameras... six at least. The Magic Box, the skating rink, Spike's crypt...this one's dead... Directory, directory, who's got the root directory...hah! Xander, hand me that Unicode list."

I actually researched what all Willow would have had to do to hack into and take over the camera network. I've forgotten it all now, but for about five minutes there, my skilz were l33t.

"What I still don't get is why someone bothered to break into our house and plant cameras," I said from the opposite end of the dining room table. I was staying as far away from follow-the-bouncing-Buffy as possible. "Especially considering Spike would have ripped their heads off if he'd caught them, and Buffy would have gotten REALLY mean. If you want to make a sex film, why not just go over to one of the frat houses on campus and hire a couple of college students?"

"I hate to say it, Dawnie, but I don't think they were making a porn film." Xander tore himself away from Willow's laptop. "This is surveillance camera footage. Someone's been spying on Buffy, and the porn film is just a happy byproduct."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Willow muttered. She picked up one of the larger camera fragments with a pair of tweezers. "Look, it's all dusty, and the battery pack was dead. This hasn't worked for weeks, maybe months. Do we have any toner cartridges we could break open? I think we could use the toner as fingerprint powder, and if whoever installed these left any prints, and if Spike didn't smudge them all up with his macho camera-crushing..."

This was back when printer cartridges had loose toner in them.  I had just come off working for a place where we bough giant bags of loose toner and refilled our own cartridges because it was cheaper, and by God, that stuff got EVERYWHERE.

"Oh, right, blame the victim," Spike groused. "Christ, I need a fag." He stomped over to the kitchen door, and I got up and followed him out to the back porch, which was in shadow at this time of day. He lit a cigarette and stood there puffing furiously, all formal and stiff, and it weirded me out. I mean, Spike doesn't just walk or stand or sit. Spike struts and lounges and sprawls and tucks his thumbs in his belt all "Hi, I'm Spike, and this is my crotch!"

On the other hand, somewhere underneath Spike, Vampire Sex God, is still a guy who grew up when ankles were an erogenous zone. "Spike...are you OK?"

"Didn't want you to see that," he said at last. "Not right. Not proper."

He looked absolutely miserable. Any other time I'd have patted his shoulder, but I figured I'd better roll my eyes instead. I leaned against the side of the house, ultra-cool and sophisticated and untroubled by the certain knowledge of Naked Spike a mere two layers of cloth away. "It's OK. Honest. It's not like I've never seen a naked guy before--"

So in my verse, as in canon, Dawn had a crush on Spike. And she knows perfectly well that Spike's in love with her sister, and doesn't see her that way. And she loves her sister, and wants her to be happy, and she doesn't want to be (as she puts it in another story) "pathetic" about it. So she's tried very hard to squash her crush down and pretend it doesn't exist. But sometimes...

That was a mistake. Spike went yellow-eyed, achieving zero to over-protective in six seconds. "And just who the hell--"

"You and Xander, dope, when we all went skinny dipping after that clambake. Get your mind out of the gutter." Of course vague glimpses of guy-parts decently veiled by darkness and ice-cold seawater and didn't quite, uh, measure up to, well, let's just say I'm going to be comparing my future boyfriends to Spike in more ways than one, but you know, I wasn't going to let this be weird. Spike is a total hottie, and maybe, just maybe there have been a few daydreams. Detailed daydreams. With a sound track and special effects. But there are hotties all over the planet, and not all that many guys you can talk to about important stuff like whether or not you really existed before two years ago, and whether the monks that created you remembered to add a standard-issue soul to the mix, and how incredibly annoying older sisters can be. "On second thought, I'm deeply traumatized. I think I might get over it if you talked Buffy into letting me get my navel pierced."

Spike stared at me, various bits of him twitching. "Dawn--"

I patted his shoulder, because I could. "You're gonna be inhaling filter in a minute. Let's go inside."

When we got back inside, Willow had bit and pieces of camera wired up to the laptop. "Curiouser and curiouser," she said. "The server this camera was supposed to send information to doesn't exist any longer, or at least, it's not turned on. The web site's on a regular commercial server, and the domain name's registered to Horatio Hellpop--pseudonym much? Good news, it looks like the site's only been up for a couple of days--" She broke into a triumphant grin. "We're in!"

"What're you waiting for, then?" Spike doesn't usually use his sire-to-minion voice on Willow, but he was using it now. "Take it down!"

It's not relevant to the tale at hand, so I don't belabor it here, but this Willow is a vampire with a soul. It's a long story.

"Patience, Grasshopper." Willow typed a few more cryptic strings of symbols into the laptop. "Bad news, it's going to take me a few hours to find out who the owner really is. I'll have to hack into Paypal to get his bank account info and track IP addresses and stuff."

I did not research what it would take to hack into Paypal. I have my limits.

Spike began pacing back and forth, tense and borderline vampy, looking like he really, really wanted to kill something. Or someone. "And in that time this berk could run off a hundred more copies and pass 'em out to friends as door prizes."

"Or keep them and sell fifty-seven of them to the list of people I'm downloading now," Willow said. "OK. I've disabled the site and changed the passwords, so no one will be able to order any more." She cracked her knuckles. "Give me six hours and I can clean out Larry Flynt Junior's bank account, ruin his credit history, and send anonymous tips to Donald Rumsfeld that he's a terrorist child pornographer." Willow's a little less scary without her magic, but really? Not by that much. She looked around. "Not that I would ever do anything like that."

I mean really. "Hacker" may be a 90s cliche, but I still wouldn't want one mad at me.

Spike snatched the list of names and credit card numbers off the printer and squinted at it. "Bloody hell. There's addresses all the way from Juneau to Key West." He looked at the list again, and smiled. Need I say it wasn't a very nice smile? "I think it's time to pay a visit to the locals. Could be some of them have an idea who they're ordering from. Harris, you want to take out the rest of those cameras, and--" He turned to Willow. "Will, when Buffy gets home, for God's sake don't let her suss out anything's wrong. If she finds out about this..."

My Spike still needs glasses, but is too vain to wear them. I have a number of canonical justifications for this headcanon.

All of us shuddered in unison. If Buffy found out there would be an explosion of thermonuclear proportions. Spike grabbed his motorcycle jacket and blanket and headed for the front door, and I leaped to my feet and ran after him. "Wait up! I'm going with you!"

He scowled at me. "I think not. You're going to stay here, and distract your sister like a good little minor."

"Uh-uh." I used all of my hey-Dawnie's-tall-now height to advantage. "Look, Spike, all this stuff getting out does to you is make you mad. If Buffy finds out, she's going to be..." I floundered for a minute. " Humiliated, and nobody humiliates my sister except me. I'm gonna go with you, and we're gonna find out who did it and...and... kick their butts with pointy-toed shoes."

Spike glared, but it was the old I-disapprove-on-principle-but-you're-all-right,-Niblet glare, and I knew he'd be caving in ten, nine, eight... "Move yer girly arse, then," he said with an unconvincing growl. "We've got villains to apprehend."

I scooted for the DeSoto before he could change his mind. Maybe he thought that it would be a good idea to have someone soul-having around when he was this mad, just in case. Or maybe, and I really prefer this version, he just wanted a partner in crime because it's more fun that way. Spike flung the blanket over his head and copied my dash for the car, and we flung ourselves into the DeSoto's dark interior just as Spike was beginning to sizzle. "You come along, you mind what I tell you, yeah? I say stay in the car, you stay in the car. I say you run, you run. I say you take that fucking pathetic excuse for music out of the CD player and toss it out the window--"

"--and I ignore you like always," I said cheerfully, turning up the Jennifer Lopez.

"Fine. If anyone dies tonight, it's on your head. Some things are beyond any self-respecting vampire's endurance." Spike slammed into reverse and backed out of the driveway with a screech of tires. I grabbed the door handle. Driving with Spike is always a character-building experience, and today was no exception. "First on the hit parade?"

I scanned the list. "Vernon Blakely, 1583 East Beechwood. What are we gonna say to Mr. Blakely when we get there?"

Spike gazed out through the little clean space in the windshield, obviously pondering which limb he should rip off first, and peeled out like there was a mob with torches after us. "Improvisation is a virtue, Bit."

I had absolutely no idea how they would get the DVDs back. The next several scenes are just me letting the characters take the reins and do whatever the hell they wanted to.

**********

Spike was smoking gently beneath his blanket when the shade-deficient door of 1583 East Beechwood opened to our urgent hammering, and a middle-aged guy with thinning red hair and freckles and a pot belly opened it and blinked at us. He looked like Mr. Weasley gone to seed. "Mr. Blakely?" I said with my brightest, shiniest smile.

The Blakely looked from me to Spike, and the contrast seemed to produce some kind of cognitive dissonance on his part. "Can I... have we met?"

"Only in spirit." Spike leaned heavily against the doorframe, with a smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring, but which made him look like he was sporting fangs even when he wasn't. Spike isn't a big guy--in fact, he's on the smallish side, but he's got, you know, muscles. And this air of being able to rip your liver out. Also did I mention the muscles? "I'm given to understand you made a purchase recently from...ah..." He glanced surreptitiously at the paper in his hand. "...Mad Genius Productions?"

Mr. Blakely looked at me, dubious, and at Spike, nervous. "What of it? If I'd done anything like that, which I didn't."

"We're from the, uh, department of quality control," I chirped. "The DVDs are..."

"Radioactive," Spike put in. "Rot your goolies off just like that. " I gave him an elbow-jab.

"Defective," I said firmly. "Glitches. Pixelization. It's criminal the kind of shoddy merchandise we put out. We're recalling them and giving you a replacement at absolutely no charge!"

Spike held up a jewel case and flashed it under Blakely's nose. "Director's cut. Added scenes. 40% more filth for the price."

Suspicion was gathering in Mr. Blakely's watery blue eyes. "Hey, you're that guy from the video," he said.

Spike heaved a melodramatic sigh. "All right, all right, as you've twisted my arm, I'll autograph it for you."

I honestly did not expect him to say that, but somehow there I was, typing it.

The watery eyes brightened. "Really?"

Five minutes later we were dashing for the car again, with the confused Mr. Blakely waving us goodbye. "So what's he going to do when he discovers he's been suckered for a bootleg copy of J-Lo's latest?" I asked, as we tore away from the curb.

"Long as it's got some bint with her tits hanging out on the cover, I doubt he'll notice the difference." Spike grinned. "There'd just better be some hitting involved in the next one."

**********

"I don't believe there's any such thing as a Department of Quality Control," Mr. Angusson said, looking us up and down. "What the hell kind of scam are you pulling?"

"All we want to do is to replace--" I started.

"Look, missy, I bought that DVD nice and legal, and I don't give a crap if whatever goombah and his girlfriend put on plastic fangs to do it is having second thoughts now. So you and your boyfriend just toddle off and--"

"HEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPP!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "HE'S SHOWING ME HIS THING! IT'S ALL GROSS AND PURPLE AND--"

I didn't expect Dawn to do that, either. And yet!

Angusson disappeared and reappeared in two seconds flat, chucking the DVD at our heads.

"Better," Spike said as we tore out yet again. "But I'm still feeling a lack in the hitting things area."

Mr. Fishbein retreated a step from the threshold. "I'm not giving you anything, and I'm not letting you in," he quavered. "What do you think I am, stupid? You're a vampire!"

Honestly, it's Sunnydale. SOMEONE has to get it.

Spike rolled his eyes. He's learned from the masters. "Oh, bollocks, you don't really believe--"

"Oh, yeah?" Fishbein challenged. "Step through that door!"

I stepped through the door, grabbed Fishbein's hand and gave him a good hard yank, right across the threshold and into Spike's waiting fist.

"What was that?," Spike caroled, drawing back for another punch. "Come on in and have a cuppa, Spike? Better repeat it, I'm a touch deaf in that ear."

"That was unnecessarily bloody," I said as we hopped into the car and stepped on the gas, one DVD richer.

"He'll live," Spike said dismissively. "Probably. Next?"

**********

I figured I had to give Spike SOME violence, or he'd get mopey.

"Can you see--?" I hissed, trying to get a better view through the front window. It was getting dark, and I was out of practice at sneaking around not-really-abandoned buildings. Spike shushed me and crept around to the door. I peered through the sad straggly thevetia hedge, cupping my hands against the dirty glass. The place was just crawling with innnnnnteresting monsters, all huddled around a crappy old black and white TV. There's some law against demons watching flatscreen color, apparently.

"Oh, my God, are they really...you know....doing it?" The Gorthesch demon bumped a couple of Fyarls further down on the couch and plunged a scaly paw into the bowl of popcorn as they all stared at the flickering screen. "With a Slayer? I mean, I heard about it, but I didn't think even a vampire could sink that low."

"Real vampires don't," the lone vampire in the crowd protested, voice dripping disgust. "Maybe great big Slayer-whipped pussies do, but--"

"Shut up!" came a chorus of squeaky, growly, and croaky voices. Despite the complaints, everyone seemed to like the show. There were tongues hanging out. At least, I hope they were tongues.

"Yeah, it's just gettin' to the good part," a Syvithis demon whispered.

"Oooh! The one with the pommel horse?"

"No, where the Slayer goes down on him in the graveyard and he--"

I actually wrote a PWP detailing all the scenes in The Spuffy Sex Tape. An edited-down version eventually got incorporated into A Parliament of Monsters, when Angelus gets a hold of one of the copies that Spike and Dawn aren't able to track down in this story.

The front door imploded with a crash, splinters flying everywhere, and Spike strode into the room over the wreckage, a gleam in his eye and a really, really big axe slung over one shoulder. He surveyed the assortment of demons with a grin almost as big as the axe and about twice as vicious, ran his tongue over his teeth and and tucked his free thumb in his belt loop, fingers splayed over the merchandise. Just like old times. "Looks like you're right, mate," he said. "We are just getting to the good part."

**********

"OK, I take it back," I said as we headed for home. "THAT was unnecessarily bloody." It was after midnight, and we'd collected twenty-two DVDs, broken and entered fifteen houses and/or lairs, killed or maimed eight demons, broken five human fingers accidentally-on-purpose, and signed two autographs. Spike had definitely achieved his hitting things quota, and it was a safe bet that no one in Sunnydale would be mentioning Spike and Buffy's brief but eventful movie career in public any time soon.

"All right, p'raps the railroad spike was a bit much, but a bloke gets nostalgic." Spike stretched, all luxurious and satisfied, and lit up a fresh cig, trailing smoke out the window. He had a black eye and a split lip and a scrape right across the place where his cheekbone goes all knife-edgy, and the stretching made things creak inside that probably weren't supposed to creak, but he was in a much, much better mood. "He'll grow a new head."

Where did Spike get a railroad spike on short notice? I have no idea. He's just resourceful that way.

"If you say so," I said, a bit dubious. "Doesn't that only happen when you cut the old one off?"

"So it'll take a bit longer." Spike bounced a little in his seat, all hepped up on the old ultra-violence. "Still haven't found the bastard who's selling the things, though. Must be a bleeding criminal mastermind if--" I Wanna Be Sedated beebled from the cell phone in his pocket. (Like I said, a lot better with technology than some vampires I can name. He can even program it, though considering the songs he picks, sometimes we wish he couldn't.) He grabbed the phone one-handed and didn't slow down even a bit as he zipped through freeway traffic. (Well, he is evil.) "Yeh? You must be joking. You must be--fuck. That little--I'll tear his soddin' head off! Yeh, I know. I'll just bruise him a little." He clicked the phone off and stuffed it back in his pocket, spun the wheel and zigged across four lanes of traffic towards the off-ramp, leaving a chorus of screeching brakes behind us. "After I tear his soddin' head off."

"Where are we going?" I yelled.

Spike hunched over the wheel, eyes grim. "Off to see the wizard."

We pulled up in front of one of the cruddy lease-by-the-month apartment buildings over by the UC Sunnydale campus. Maybe it was the same one Dad and I stayed at when he came down from L.A. to take care of Buffy's estate that time she was dead--the second time, I mean, not the first time. Some of the grease spots in the parking lot looked familiar.

It just struck me as I was describing the building that it was almost identical to the one I'd described in Necessary Evils, so I thought I'd better lampshade it.

"Apartment 42B, Will says." Spike sucked in his cheeks and narrowed his eyes, scoping out the disintegrating stucco overhead. "There at the end." He slapped his hands together and bounded towards the stairs like he was scaling Everest. I followed like I was scaling a rickety stepladder. (Hey, lack of supernatural stamina here. I was getting pretty darned tired.) The lights were on in 42B, and we paused outside the door, which was painted in barf-making 80s turquoise. Spike pounded on it with one fist. "Open up! Land shark!"

I heard some rustling and thumping noises inside, and a crash like a bookcase falling over. "Go away!" a strangely familiar voice yelled. "You can't get in here anyway!"

"Yeh? Maybe not, but I can stand out here till you starve to death. Or set the building on fire, or...uh..." Spike paced the catwalk for a second, smoking like a fiend, which I guess is appropriate. I was pretty sure the fire thing was a bluff, since Spike's not usually one for indirect mayhem. He's got the whole hitting things fetish, after all. Then his eyes lit up and he grinned. "Maybe I can't walk through your door, but there's nothing says I can't kick it down and send in my terrible mute minion, Paco." He whirled around and unleashed one of his shitkicker boots at the door. BANG! The whole building shuddered (which sounds impressive, but considering it was probably made out of pressboard and Kleenex, isn't so much). WHAM! A hinge sprung and the doorframe cracked. I buffed my nails and waited--obviously Spike was holding back.

I don't know why more vampires don't do things like this.

"I'm gonna lose my deposit!" the voice inside wailed.

"My heart bleeds. Oh, wait, no it doesn't. Open up, or--"

The door flew open, or tried to (Spike had knocked it kind of cattywompus, and it stuck halfway.) A face peered out, pale and pear-shaped and nervous under slept-in dark hair. Behind it was a barren little studio apartment littered with pizza boxes, comic books, and boxes of DVDs and padded mailers. There was practically no furniture except a mattress and a desk with a pretty sweet computer and home studio setup.

My hand shot out and I grabbed Pasty-face by the ear and pulled, hard. "Jonathan?!" I yipped. Jonathan squirmed and batted at me, but I dug my nails in. "YOU'RE the criminal mastermind?"

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!" he yelled. "Let me go, don't let him kill me, I didn't mean to, it's not my fault!"

"Oh, for God's sake, quit whining," I snapped, letting go. "Spike hasn't even touched you."

Spike took a drag on his cigarette, peeled himself off the railing and sort of glided over, all slouchy and menacing, with the angle of the floodlights leaving black caverns where his eyes should be. Jonathan squinched in on himself. "You just don't learn, do you?" Spike asked, soft and pee-your-pants scary. "How long've you had those cameras on us?"

Jonathan backed away with a panicky shuffle. "They're not mine! They were Warren's, and they haven't worked since the police confiscated all his computer stuff! Honest! I just happened to have some files I'd saved for, for--"

"Wanking material?" Spike asked, excessively sarcastic.

"Research!" Jonathan reached the wall and sat down very abruptly. "I didn't mean anything by it! All I wanted was to raise some money so Warren and Andrew could get a better lawyer! Someone who knows about demon-related cases, like Goldberg & Osbourne, or Wolfram & Hart. I didn't think you'd ever find out, and I'm really, really, really sorry, please don't kill me, please, please, PLEASE don't kill me--"

Goldberg & Osbourne is a real law firm in Phoenix, AZ, known for being sleazy ambulance-chasers. A joke that only I ever got.

"Didn't mean anything by dragging a lady's reputation in the dirt?" Spike roared (and again, by roared, I mean, well, roared). He grabbed Jonathan by his Robotech jammies and hauled him up nose-to-nose--Jonathan's one of the few guys Spike can look down on. "Well, maybe I won't mean anything when I rip your balls off and stuff them in your eye sockets, how's that?"

"Why?" I asked, grabbing Spike's arm. I realized I'd been wanting to ask that question for a long time. "Why, Jonathan? I mean, I get Warren and whatsisface--they had grudges against Buffy, but you used to be--" Well, not her friend, not really. "She saved your life! You gave her the Class Protector award! She let you off the hook when she turned Warren over to the cops--you were an accessory to murder, Jonathan, and she let you go! I don't get it. Why are you helping them?"

Jonathan yanked his pajama top out of Spike's grip and pulled himself up like he'd taken a dose of Insta-Spine. "Because they're my friends," he said, very simply, meeting Spike's yellowing eyes head-on. "And I know they're not much, but they're all I've got. Whatever else happens, you've got to stand by your friends, right? Or what's the point?" He sighed, squared his shoulders, and looked up at Spike with a little smile. "It's a fair cop. I guess you'd better do whatever it is you're going to do."

I wanted Jonathan to redeem himself a little bit, kinda?

Spike stood there looking at Jonathan, head cocked in the His Master's Voice pose he gets when he's trying really, really hard to figure out the motivations of the souled. And I knew what was going through his head. Spike was looking for a reason not to kill him.

See, Spike doesn't have a soul. He doesn't do good stuff because it's right. He can't. He's not wired that way, as he puts it. But he can do good stuff if there's a reason--like if it helps him somehow, or makes someone he loves happy. Or if it makes him feel, for a minute, like he's a man and not a monster, which is a feeling he really likes. And that's the cool thing about Spike, the thing I really love about him, and I think probably the thing Buffy loves too: not the cheekbones or the attitude or the mad combat skilz or what's under those jeans, but that he does like that feeling, and so Spike looks for those reasons. Looks real hard. Harder, I think sometimes, than some people with souls.

I'm just sayin'.

"Right," he said at last. And he hauled off and punched Jonathan right in the nose.

"YEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOW!" Jonathan fell over, clutching his face, and gore splattered everywhere. "By dose! You broge by dose!"

But still, well, evil.

"Just be glad that's all I've broke," Spike said. He wiped his knuckles on his t-shirt instead of licking the blood off, which was a pretty big compliment, really. Congratulations, Jonathan, you've graduated to Not-Food! "Christ, where's the fun in beating the shit out of a pathetic little wibbling sod like you?" He pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket (that's another moderately cool thing about Spike: he carries pocket handkerchiefs) and tossed it to Jonathan. "Grab the goods, Bit. It's time to call it a night."

Jonathan sat there snorfling blood into the hanky while I ferried the DVDs and Jonathan's hard drive out to Spike--I figured Willow could check it out for contraband and return it, so we weren't stealing it exactly. As we started down the stairs with the last armload, Spike turned back to Jonathan, almost amiable. "Word to the wise. I don't forget what your friends put Buffy through. If you want to do your pals a real favor, maybe you ought to remember that while I'm out here, and they're safe in stir, no one's likely to get eaten accidental-like, eh?"

Now this! At the time that I wrote this, I had NO IDEA that Warren would come back and cause trouble later, and that Spike would, in fact, end up eating him. Indeed, by the time I wrote "The Lesser of Two Evils," I had completely forgotten that I'd written this line, and when I stumbled upon it when re-reading a couple of years later, it was this totally serendipitous piece of foreshadowing. Sometimes writing is so cool!

Jonathan stared at him, and nodded a little. And we left.

**********

It was past two o'clock when we got home. We locked the DVDs in the trunk of the DeSoto, which had been the closet for a lot of other skeletons in its day, and after a short consultation on how to best avoid Ordeal By Buffy, we strolled into the house as if we were coming in from a late patrol and nothing in the universe was wrong.

Willow was still tapping away at her laptop in the dining room. "I'm just tracking down the copies on eBay," she whispered, "and sending out fake cease and desist orders from Mad Genius Productions. Buffy's in bed. She doesn't suspect a thing." She noted our alarmed glances and added, a bit huffily, "Don't worry, Xander took care of the the subterfuge part. Did you get him?"

"Yeh, he's got." Spike rolled his head and rubbed back of his neck. "Battle of the ages. Christ, I'm glad that's done with." He eyed our crumpled list of victims thoughtfully. "Wonder if I could fake a business trip to Juneau."

"Don't press your luck," Willow said drily.

"Someday I'm going to sire someone with a minimum of respect for their elders," Spike growled.

Willow grinned, smug. "And they'll bore you so much you'll stake them inside forty-eight hours. Shoo. Buffy's waiting for you."

So we headed for the stairs, and as I put my foot on the first step, I heard Spike heave a big sigh behind me. "Thanks, Bit. Couldn't have managed without you." When I looked back, he was staring at the toes of his boots, all awkward and embarrassed. "I just hope this hasn't... hasn't..."

"Spike, I'll always think of you as my brother." I waited two beats, and added with a perfectly straight face, "My brother with the enormous schlong."

I got three whole steps before Spike came after me and chased me all the way upstairs.

This story is the second of three I wrote ("The Road to Byzantium" and "A Dark and Stormy Night" are numbers one and three) which has Dawn moving on from her crush and into a more grown-up friendship with Spike as a major theme, and hopefully it works. And they all lived happily ever after, at least until I got another idea!

[rkjayanth-blog]

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[dracimalfoy1988292]

Veintisiete

•••

"No! We aren't going to have some lame ass party! This is the big one-seven. He's turning seventeen!" James exclaimed to Ivy as she smiled. Remus walked along side of him, rolling his eyes.

"But where would we have the party? And you know people are gonna want alcohol. He is turning the legal age you can drink," Remus observed. Ivy's face flushed as she recalled the night where she went on and on about Remus, decently drunk on Butterbeer.

"You know Fabian and Gideon are pros at sneaking in Alcohol. And the room of requirement is always open," James said in a sing song voice.6

"What is the Room of Requirement?" Ivy asked. James gasped, looking at her.

"You haven't lived until you've been in the Room of Requirement!" James said, shaking his head as he took a turn, walking down the stairs with Ivy following behind him.

"That doesn't answer my question," Ivy said grouchily with a roll of her eyes. Remus chuckled before explaining.

"It's this room that supplys you with whatever you need. You think it and it appears. James says that if we think about a party, we'll have everything we need for one," Remus explained. Ivy nodded, understanding mildly.

"Okay, I guess I understand. Also, where are Sirius and Peter?" Ivy said. James shrugged with a smile.

"Peter needs extra help in Transfiguration and Sirius is helping him with the work since he's good at it," James said with a laugh. They sat down in the Great Hall at one of the tables.2

"So we'll have a party this Friday night in the room of requirement. Fabian and Gideon can bring alcohol and Marlene can spread the word. Who's coming?" Remus said. James shrugged, thinking carefully about who should come to Sirius's birthday bash.

"Us, of course, almost all respectable Gryffindors in fifth year and above. Ivy's little group of friends. That's it, I guess," James said, shrugging.

Once the word was spread, it was all people talked about for the next few days, buzzing with excitement about the party. On Friday immediately after dinner, Ivy and Remus prepared, walking in and examining the party space.

"Holy shit!" Ivy said. This was her first time using the Room of Requirement, so it was all sort of a shock. The room had a high ceiling and supplied muggle speakers with several song choices by wizard and muggle artists plus a dance floor and a disco ball. There was a table off to the side for drinks and refreshments and a few chairs. A few minutes later, Fabian and Gideon walked in, carrying bottles of alcohol and plastic cups.

"Yo yo! We got the booze!" Gideon exclaimed excitedly as they set down everything. "Firewhisky, Tequila, Butterbeer, you name it, bitches."56

"Great," Remus said with a grin. The red-headed twins turned their attention to Ivy.11

"Greetings, Scott," Gideon said with a wink. Ivy gave a smile as they set down all the alcohol and cups.2

"Hello, Prewett. And, other Prewett," Ivy said, the smallest hint of distaste in her eyes as she glanced over at the other red headed twin who was already staring at her.5

"Hi, Scott," Fabian said, offering a smile as he turned away. They both chose to ignore the incident at the quidditch game where she insulted him relentlessly and he knocked her out even though it's what was on both of their minds.

"Ready to get blackout drunk, Mrs. Perfect?" Gideon said with the shimmy of his shoulders. Ivy rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hip.

"No. The group needs a mediator. Like... a designated driver."

"A what?"

Ivy shook her head. "Forget about it. Also, I haven't ever drank before."

"You've drank Butterbeer, correct?" Fabian said as Ivy shrugged. She thought of the time during the summer when she drank more than enough Butterbeer, something that had been on her mind a lot recently.

"Yes," Ivy said stiffly. Gideon smirked.

"Great. And you can drink without getting blackout drunk, but for newbies like you, it's hard to control yourself. And it seems like it doesn't take much alcohol to get you drunk," Gideon said, analyzing her. She shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll drink. Probably not," Ivy said, twiddling her thumbs as they looked around the room.

"Well, if it helps at all, Remus is a practically perfect student and is very familiar with getting drunk," Fabian said. Ivy turned her head quickly to glance at Remus who was looking quite embarrassed, his cheeks flushed.

"Sounds like there is a story behind this," Ivy said with a smile, Remus looked away, the wall becoming awfully interesting to him.

"So glad you asked," Fabian said joyfully, pausing to look at Remus's reaction, "basically, little fifteen year old Remus was drunk as shit. Dancing wildly. A total badass. Anyways, he ended up snogging this blonde chick on the dance floor. Woke up the next day with a massive hangover."22

Ivy gasped, feeling a short burst of jealousy. "You said you've never had your first kiss, you lying bastard."

"Well I don't count that. I was drunk. I don't even remember it. It wasn't a real first kiss," Remus said, blushing profusely. Ivy smirked, ignoring the envy she has for that blonde girl.15

"Well, I'd count it. You may not have gained anything from it, but you can say you've kissed someone. That has to count for something," Ivy shrugged, beginning to walk away. "I'm going to go grab Peter, Sirius, and James. See you and your non-virgin lips soon, Remus!"

She walked out of the door and sighed, turning towards the courtyard where they were sitting. She beckoned them over and led them to the Room of Requirement, trying her best to follow the instructions Remus gave her about how to get back in.

"Happy birthday, Sirius!" Fabian and Gideon said in unison once they successfully arrived. Ivy had already given him his present earlier this morning. It included several things from Zonko's and Honeydukes.

"Thanks," Sirius said, giving them both a high five. After a few more minutes of preparing for the party, they walked to their dorms to change out of their robes. Ivy scanned through her closet, having no clue what to wear.

"Need some help?" Chloe said, coming up from behind her. Ivy nodded. Chloe looked around at all her clothes. "I would say to wear one of my dresses, but they are too big for you since I'm a lot taller. Ooh! But I do have something from my own closet."

"Nothing too wild," Ivy said. Chloe ignored her, turning back around and grabbing the platform white shoes from Ivy's closet, holding them up in the light to get a closer look at them.

Next Chloe grabbed a tube top and a pair of small jean shorts from her own closet and pushed the clothing in Ivy's arms, ushering her to the bathroom. Ivy put on the tight, sparkly tube top and came out.

"You don't wear a bra with a tube top, silly!" Bella said, immediately walking over with her hands on her hips. Ivy smiled sheepishly.12

"Well I don't wear tube tops often." She said, walking in the bathroom once again. A few seconds later, she walked back out, feeling rather exposed.

"Yes! You look so hot!" Jessica said excitedly, watching her through the mirror as she brushed her cheeks with highlighter. She turned around to slap some glitter on Ivy's cheekbones as she laughed. "Everyone is gonna go crazy once they see you!"2

Ivy shook her head with a weary smile, lacing up her shoes and looking in the mirror. She ran a few fingers through her curly hair before turning around and looking at the three other girls.

"Alright," Bella said, looking at her with a smirk. "You're officially ready for your first party!"2

•••

[airadam]

Episode 111 : Pay Attention!

"Classical soul, I got the nastiest flow"

- Sean Price

We had to open the show with an Aretha Franklin track to mark her sad passing this month, and you'll hear her essence at various points throughout the episode. I'm just about beating the buzzer to get this one out on time, but I'm sure you'll agree it was worth the effort!

Manchester shows for the month;

Beatnuts, The Bluntskins, Didjit, Air Adam | September 19th, Whiskey Jar

Havoc, Big Noyd, DJ L.E.S, Seven Spherez | September 24th, Joshua Brooks

Twitter : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Aretha Franklin : Rock Steady

We had to start things off with a classic from the Queen. This 1971 single from the "Young, Gifted, and Black" album isn't short on legends, with Donny Hathaway on electric piano and organ, and Bernard Purdie doing the business on the drums. A much covered and much sampled record, all trying to get just a hint of the flavour of the original. 

Pete Rock : Aretha

A perfect instrumental for me to come across this month, drawn from the golden period in which Pete Rock was on production for InI's unreleased (but heavily bootlegged) debut album. This beat wasn't used, but it comes to us courtesy of the 2017 "Lost Sessions" release alongside nine other previously-unreleased instrumentals.

[DJ Premier] Gang Starr : 92 Interlude

I just had to include this - an interlude beat from the "Daily Operation" LP that built around just a tiny incidental piece of a famous Aretha Franklin track and put other producers on notice when it comes to how Primo picks gold!

JR & PH7 ft. Chuuwee : Meadowview Morning

Thank you Spotify for dropping this one into one of my playlists! The German producers JR and PH7 have made a brief appearance on the show previously, but their work on this track from "The South Sac Mack" is really something. They come up with a jazzy but sombre instrumental which perfectly fits the trio of Sacramento MCs telling tales of life in their corner of the world. 

Hieroglyphics : Oakland Blackouts

Keeping it over on the West Coast, the Hiero crew have always been reliable as a source of bars upon bars. The "3rd Eye Vision" album is creeping towards twenty years old, but is still an excellent listen! Opio of Souls of Mischief is on production for this one.

Termanology : Are You Sure?

We don't hear Erick Sermon's name brought up enough when it comes to some of the greatest producers, so I'm glad Termanology linked up with him for this head-nod groove on his latest album "Bad Decisions". This is almost Term's version of Gang Starr's "The Planet", with him telling the story of coming to New York from Massachusetts and having to work to establish and hold his position. I won't give away the hook sample in case it's uncleared, but it's also a quality record :)

Sean Price : Director's Cut

This one has an unusual structure - a series of short two-bar "scenes" separated by two-bar sections of commentary. It's raw street business with a dash of humour as you'd expect from Sean P, gracing the Khrysis beat with some classic jewels. If you like this track, then the "Jesus Price Supastar" LP is a must in your collection.

DJ Agent M : Keeping Me In The Dark

Agent M is a producer and DJ from Leeds whose 2018 beat tape "Closure" is the sound of him working through a period of loss. This track is based around a classic sample, which is not just flipped for the sonics but also for the title.

Kev Brown : Voltron

It's been an extremely long wait for a proper follow-up to Kev Brown's 2005 debut LP "I Do What I Do", but finally he returns with "Homework" - twenty-nine tracks for a grateful audience! It's a partly vocal and partly instrumental album, with many tracks clocking in at under two minutes long. This was an initial standout for me, and while it's tickling my head as though there's a familiar sample, it wouldn't surprise me to find out that everything was played from scratch - Kev certainly has the capability.

The Game ft. Faith Evans : Don't Need Your Love

I've got to be honest - the lead-up to the release of The Game's debut album, "The Documentary" felt like one of the first times I felt as though the industry was really trying to force-feed an artist into the scene. He'd only been rapping for a relatively short time (for that era) before this LP came out, and has to be credited for building his skills in such a short time, but the Dr. Dre co-sign and G-Unit affiliation was of course what put him over the top. He's still active nowadays though, and has absolutely earned his place. Anyway, the first album had two tracks I really enjoyed - "Put You On The Game" and this, a track straight from the heart with Faith Evans blessing the hook. Havoc of Mobb Deep is on production with a beat that isn't what you might expect from him in terms of sound, but is right there at the standard of quality that he'd set.

DJ Cam ft. Cameo : Love Junkee (Dilla Remix)

You may or may not know it, but you cannot deny that this is a serious tune! The original was cool, in a relaxed and organic way, with Cameo an extremely welcome guest to proceedings,  but Dilla turned it into a banger. Incredibly minimal on the surface, but packed with lots of little subtleties if you listen closely enough. If you can hear past that thumping low end! Get yourself a digital copy of both versions, and thank me later.

Zapp : Computer Love

I've said it before, but Zapp were something like fifteen years ahead of the advent of internet dating! This is a stone classic record, sampled and flipped countless times, and one which I'm glad to have enjoyed as a new track when it was released back in 1985! Shirley Murdock features as half of the lead vocal duet alongside Charlie Wilson of The Gap Band, and the great Roger Troutman (RIP), who also wrote the song, comes in on the talkbox. Apparently Charlie Wilson's record label thought this wasn't going to be a hit...I assume much crow has been eaten since! You can find this as a single, on the "The New Zapp IV U" album, and on many compilations.

Onra : Wait A Minute

This needed a bit of additional looping to be long enough to fit here, but it fit so well in terms of sound that it had to be done. It's taken from the new "Nobody Has To Know" album, the instrumental story of a secret relationship.

Sean Price : 60 Bar Dash

Sean P again with a stream of the disrespectful lines we love him for, on a record from relatively early in his solo career - you can find this on the B-side of the "Boom Bye Yeah" 12" single. PF Cuttin is on production, working a break you might know from the first Diamond D album.

De La Soul : The Art Of Getting Jumped

I always enjoyed this one and the 80s Aretha sample that makes up the hook! Underrated but big tune from the "Art Official Intelligence : Mosaic Thump" album, all about those times when the pack strikes and isn't concerned with fighting fair...

Eric B & Rakim : Set 'Em Straight

If you don't have the "Let The Rhythm Hit 'Em" album, then you probably don't know this track - it wasn't a single, it's not a club track, but my goodness, it's dope. The title is perfect, as Rakim takes the time to primarily put other MCs in check, but also correct one or two false rumours of the time, including that that he was supposedly locked up on Rikers Island for selling drugs. Pure heat from the very early 90s.

Blade : Rough It Up

Long before his union with Mark B (RIP) that many of you will know him for, Blade was an MC who absolutely personified the grind and the real DIY attitude. His first LP, "The Lion Goes From Strength To Strength", was in my opinion the original crowd-funded album, and the determined and defiant nature required to undertake such a task in 1991 is evident on this early 12"! He's talking about his real life right down to washing dishes to pay the bills, over a soup of funk cooked up by his own hand alongside the underground legendary engineer/producer "No Sleep" Nigel. I learned about this record when Pete Tong played it as a brand new tune on Radio 1, and it made me a Blade fan for life.

K-Def : Get A Clue

I needed something funky for this spot, and with the help of a bit of looping to make it a suitable length, I found it on K-Def's "Willie Boo Boo" collection, which is one that the beat heads should definitely have in their collections.

Aretha Franklin : Young, Gifted, and Black

What can you say? I thought this soaring anthem would be a great record to end the episode on. Nina Simone was the original writer (with Weldon Irvine) and performer of this song, back in 1969, but just three years later Aretha released this incredible version as the title track of her eighteenth (!) studio album. I certainly remember hearing many versions of this track as a child, and this is the perfect time to bring it out for all of you. Turn up the volume and take in the mastery.

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

[zncuaccretion]

2/05/18 – 2/11/18

                       Like clockwise 6:45 a.m. came early on Monday as another week of my training began. I collected myself, although, wit not intact and headed for Altgeld to begin with music theory. Shortly afterwards I trekked across the main drag and headed to the bazaar where I could purchase the aromatic dark liquid that familiarizes myself with the functioning world…

                       Monday has turned into one of my heaviest practice days of the week. I really enjoy how much I can accomplish on Mondays. I like being able to start the week off productive. I took my normal post on the second floor of the castle and began my typical practice habits with ear training for an hour. My rigorous ear training has started to kick in and I believe that ear training is becoming a hallmark in my routine. I am really excited to see how much progress I will make by the end of the semester.  

Once I finished my ear training for the day I grabbed my time card and began punching in for the day. I have been really incorporating strangeness into my practice routine. I spent my normal warm-up routine really handicapping myself with balancing act and blackout debuffs. I have noticed also that my eye brow problem has somewhat diminished. Eventually, I believe I will be able to eradicate this problem adding less stress and tension into my playing.

What made this Monday particularly interesting was I decided to jump on the bench and play with the ebonies and ivories which I had been neglecting for sometime now. However, I must say that it was really enjoyable to start noodling around on the piano again because of the amazing visual resource it provides. The trombone itself is such and abstract concept with many subtle nuances, such as sharp positions.

           Although, I have been having an exponentially better time this semester than last this week I was met with some conflict in one of my ensembles. I am not a good solo player by any stretch of the imagination, but I appreciate that my instructor gives me solos in order better to develop that skill. When I see a solo written on my music I get extremely nervous and usually this results in a failed attempt at playing the music correctly. Next, the ensemble stops and I feel awful for wasting everyone’s rehearsal time. However, on top of playing the solo out of time I have not been matching certain articulation in specifically the solo sections of the piece. One of the hardest challenges I face as a musician is erasing what is set in my brain because once something is in there it is in there for a while. Hopefully, I can recalibrate these solo sections with the proper time and articulation because it frustrates my instructor, ensemble, and myself.

           After my ensemble I usually reflect a bit on my way back to the bazaar for my second cup of the siren’s liquid.  I needed to cool off a bit because I was a bit upset with my how my battle went. I then concluded my days practice with some sword sparring studies, including, major scales with high slurs, octave studies, etude practice, and some sight reading.  

           Although I had a lousy rehearsal yesterday.  Tuesday brought some really new and exciting opportunities. I warmed up before pedagogy class and was pleased with how my tone and intonation sounded.  I particularly did not feel too awesome about how my lesson ended up going. Much of my time was spent on this jazz exercise that was clearly out of my vocabulary. Perhaps in the future I will revisit this particular exercise with the deftness that is required to meet the demands. Although, my lesson may have not been as great as other lessons I have had this semester I was given a manuscript that acts as a rite of passage in the trombone world. I was handed the Bitsch rhythm etudes and was excited to delve into these challenging works which focus on rhythms, note groupings, and articulations.

However, once I had a moment of down time after my other ensembles I purchased my solo for the semester which I am extremely excited about. I chose a work from Danish composer Launy Grondahl. “Grondahl composed a number of chamber works including two sting quartets, several orchestral works, and three solo concerti, among which the trombone concert of 1924 has constantly remained in the repertory (Koncert for Trombone of Orkester).” Personally, I think this challenging piece has some of the most beautiful and powerful statements in the trombone arsenal. I have been wanting to tackle this since I heard it in undergrad, but I needed to do some serious practicing in order to spar on par with this behemoth.  A new set of challenges have emerged for this semester and I cannot wait to navigate through a sword fighting rite of passage and slay a behemoth.

           Wednesday was pretty standard I completed my hour of ear training and had music theory tutoring. All in all, I am becoming much faster at identifying and analyzing music. I mentioned earlier that I thought that I had made good progress on my ear training I am also making some excellent headway on music theory too. I have noticed I have gotten a lot better at identifying certain chords and how they function in certain exercises. Compared to where I was last semester I believe that I will be in good shape by the end of the semester as long as I keep reviewing theory. Interestingly, my brother refers to music theory/ composition as the way of the warrior where I chose to pursue the way of the sword. Often times he tells me that if he had chosen to pursue music seriously he would have gone for composition as opposed to performance. I still inquire about this from time to time because of the enormous talent my brother possesses when wielding his axe. However, the ultimate irony is that he has a better ear than I do and he is hearing impaired.  Anyway, sometimes I get lost on anecdotal analogy tangents, but I thought it was worth mentioning…

           While doing my buzzing routine I love stumbling across songs that I have not listened to in some time. I happened to find one of my favorite Watrous tunes, “Smooth Talk, which features him whistling over a few choruses too. I complete my normal warm up routine focusing on alternate positions which I am starting to enjoy knowing that I can utilize them in my playing. However, one thing I have noticed when incorporating alternate positions into my routine is that because of how long the pipe of the horn gets. The horn requires more air to be put through in order to get a great sound. Not only is learning my alternate positions getting me to A to B faster, but it also helps with breathing too. Once I made it to a good stopping point I headed down stairs for my wind ensemble rehearsal. I hoped that I could redeem myself today because of how poorly I played on Monday.

Whenever I play janky in an ensemble I try my best to remedy what went wrong, but sure enough lightning struck twice in the same spot, things went awry, and I started to slip into the darker shades of my mind. Rehearsal went poorly again and I nearly blew a fuse post rehearsal, but managed to keep my cool. Interestingly, having two bad rehearsals is pretty rare for myself, but on the brighter side it keeps me modest and in a practice room. Sometimes it is awesome to be able to see the good out of something bad.

           One of the big buzzwords that has been circulating around the castle this semester is articulation. Most of my teachers have been harbingers of articulation because of all of the Bernstein we are playing. Not only that, but I feel as though some of my teachers were pretty impressed with last semester and it is time to take certain ensembles to the next levels, so after my rehearsal I went back into the practice room to got through minor scales at 120 focusing on every other note being articulated with an accent.

After going through my other technical exercises of the day I dug right into the first Bitsch etude which is challenging, but sounds impressive when the fragments of the etude all connect. The big challenge of the piece though is once again articulation most of the first etude focuses on an accent of the three eighth note patterns and it is usually followed by staccato notes. The etude is in 2/4 it focuses on weird rhythmic groups to get the player familiar with odd note groupings and rhythm.

Friday happened to be another day of revisiting an artist that has released new content. I learned that Elliot Mason had recently released a new solo album and someone had already transcribed one of his solos which some of his lines sound reminiscent of Rosolino. Before, Now and After features some of veterans of the NYC music scene including Sofija Knezevic, Tim Hagans, Brad Mason, and Joe Lavano.  

Elliot also plays with his brother and the two released an album a few years ago titled Two Sides, One Story. These English brothers grew up in a musical family where they were constantly playing jazz from a young age and sat in with some of the higher end English jazz bands. “By 16, Mason left England to join his brother Brad Mason at the Berklee College of Music… He moved to New York City after graduation and now resides on Northwestern University’s faculty… Mason currently plays with the Jazz at Lincoln center orchestra with Wynton Marsalis (jazz.org).”

One of the coolest things about Mason is his custom-made horn which looks like something out of the steam punk subculture. His horn has a ornate pattern around the parabolic curve and it also contains a really unique bell flair. I guess every epic swordsman needs a trademark swift foe faller.  One day I may set out on my own journey to claim my own legendary sword once I obtain my M.M.

Saturday concluded my musical week with me developing some content for ZnCU. I wish to keep making content for my blog, including, basic practice tips and ideas that I have regularly utilized throughout my practice routines/ sessions. Hopefully, I can keep creating content and education resources for ZnCu and eventually I would like to produce more audio and video content. Anyway, despite having a week of some ups and downs with my ensembles I still managed to finish the week with some fun and interesting practice exercises.

One thing that I really enjoy doing when I have to opportunity to practice piano is work on transposing basic melodies in different keys. I do this on trombone, but it is nice to see how these tunes are laid out on piano too. I experiment with really cool jazz voicings in harmonies. Eventually, I would really like to re-harmonize these transposition tunes with unconventional vertical accompaniment. However, I still need to get more of the unique harmonies under my fingers. Once I become more familiar with the voicings I can easily transfer said harmonies onto my horn to open up some really interesting note choices for solos.

… As the days press forward my skills become sharpened through hours of sparring mentally and physically. However, in the feint echoes of the distance a lumbering monster slowly encroaches on your position. The only opportunity to survive the inevitable confrontation is to pick up your sword and slay the monster outright… Ghrondhal killing foresight….

[god-hunter]

Secret Empire #0

This was the big one folks.  A giant sized 0 issue, which apparently wasn’t even the first one you were supposed to read.

There are 3 other prelude issues to this, which I won’t bother collecting.  One from U.S Avengers, where it seems Captain America shook things up with Roberto DaCosta.  Another in the Thunderbolts book, I think.  And finally his own Captain America: Steve Rogers book, where he finally revealed his outward villainy, apparently.

...Before I go any further, I should mention to anyone not in the know, that since the Pleasant Hill event ended and Steve Rogers triumphantly returned with his youth, Nick Spencer left us with a nasty cliff-hanger.  And that was the fact that, Kobik (the cosmic diety that brought him back) was being manipulated by Red Skull.

This only spelled bad news for Cap, as Spencer spent an entire year setting up the idea that Steve was never a genuine American Hero, but really a Secret Hydra Agent, deep deep undercover for years.  [Come on, man.  Really!?]

Now.. this is old news.  People hated Captain America: Steve Rogers #1 the world over.  Then others saw through the whole ploy when they stayed on for Steve Rogers #2.  Since then, I think Marvel audiences have been split between hating on this entire plot thread, and others finding it downright brilliant.

I... have avoided it like the plague.  Brian Bendis had the chance during Civil War II to hint at us that Cap wasn’t being genuine, or secretly harboring evil thoughts or whatever, and he didn't.  He left Spencer to his devices, who handled a pretty well written Epilogue to Civil War II.

That very same epilogue hinted at what’s to come right here in Secret Empire.  Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter were in power once again.  And this time, as Top Cop, he was going to make sure he was going to follow through with his “true” mission.

[Give me a break man.  He’s obviously gonna break out of this.  But in the meantime, Marvel audiences are beyond frustrated at the straight up blasphemy and downright betrayal that Spencer has created for the Captain America fanbase.]  And I think that’s a fair Pre-Assessment.

As for this issue.  It was really well written.  It’s very dense.  There’s a lot going on.  And some of it is a bit much.  And I was definitely left feeling bummed out by the end of it.  Steve Rogers is definitely breaking my heart a little bit, here.  But I’d also like to think I understand where Spencer is going with this.  And I can only hope that he’s going to deliver a major redeeming factor somewhere down the line, towards the end of all this.

In the mean time.  Let the Secret Empire begin.

[SPOILERS]

Warning.  This was a very long issue, and I don’t want to leave a single detail out.  So the rest of this review may be tl;dr.  I’ll do my best to move the points along though.

We start with a “Flashback” from 1945 in Japan where Captain America secretly reported to his Hydra boss, Kraken.  [Already, I’m not in love.]

Along with Kraken is what I thought was Sir Isaac Newton from the Sorcerers Supreme book, but I could be wrong.  Anyway, they tell him that the Allies are about to use a ‘Cosmic Cube’ to rewrite reality itself.  And not to believe them when he falls into their will.  {To make us believe that all those years as an Avenger, he was somehow being manipulated.}

Through some really nice visuals, we see Cap’s heroic history unfold, even though he now believes that it was in-genuine.  That is to say, he believes his “true mission” is to betray them.

After that strange flashback, we’re treated to an interesting Character Page.

This book is going to host Steve Rogers & Sharon Carter at S.H.I.E.L.D. Command [obviously], both Ironheart AND Iron Man in Michigan..

The Ultimates and other cosmic favorites like Hyperion and the new Quasar, (which was kind of nice to see.)  The Guardians of the Galaxy minus Drax will be around.

At New York City, we get to see the Defenders in action for the first time, which is pretty exciting.  I’m no stranger to Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Iron Fist and Daredevil, but to see them finally get the Team Treatment and recognition since Bendis wrapped up New Avengers vol. 2, is really nice.  Also with them is Spider-Woman, Doctor Strange, Cloak and Dagger.  The Uncanny Avengers will also be featured in this book, which I enjoy.  [Guess I’ll be collecting those tie ins.]  Did I mention The Wasp is there too?  Janet Van Dyne.  Not the new one.

And of course this event wouldn’t be complete without some Hydra Forces such as Baron Zemo and his Army of Evil.

Now...  Before I continue, I noticed a significant lack of ‘Actual’ Avengers.  ...is Waid staying out of this??  Does Spencer not care about them??

What of Clint Barton?  Won’t he have something to say about an evil Cap in Power?

Well.  We’ll see I guess.  I’m getting ahead of myself here.  Apparently Captain America: Sam Wilson explained his absence from this event already.  =/

Once we finally get into the issue, I’m already confused.  I’ve already missed something.  There are apparently 3 red dots on the trouble map, which S.H.I.E.L.D. has failed to stop for months, and now it feels like the end is nigh.

[Also, I’m completely thrown off by her old appearance in this issue, meanwhile in Infamous Iron Man, she’s totally young and fresh looking.  I could’ve sworn she looked the same in CWII’s epilogue as well.]

Well, anyway, we get to see Captain Marvel, the Ultimates and other Cosmic friends take action in space against the Chitauri.

[You would think Al Ewing would set some of this up for Ultimates 2 tie-ins, but he definitely has some other pointless things going on in his pocket of the universe.]

As the Ultimates fight in space, Ironheart, and apparently Tony’s mobile armored A.I. is able to fully work alongside her.  [As if Tony was never in a coma or something..  Hah!]

I have no idea what they’re doing.  I wish I could say what they’re analyzing.  But outside, New York is burning.

This is where we find that The Defenders are up against Nitro, who has nothing but vengeance on his mind since Pleasant Hill, which happened more than a year ago at this point.  [Where was this before?]

“Know that it is their sins you die for now!”

The action is pretty awesome on the ground and in space as Sharon worries with a pensive Steve from the Helicarrier.  The panels are scattered and frantic, although aligned neatly along the page.

Narrations build things up in past tense.

“This is how we were betrayed.”  The mysterious story continues to unfold.

Apparently in space, the new Quasar dies, or we are lead to believe that, as a huge alien swallows her whole.

From the Helicarrier, Cap commands, “We need that shield!”

[THATS what Riri and Tony A.I are working on!!]

{I have a weird theory that Tony’s A.I. slacked on getting the shield up in time, but I have little-to-nothing to back up that theory.}

In New York, Jessica Jones definitely saves the Defenders from getting blown up by Nitro, who just suicide bombed the area.

It almost seems as if something fatal happened to her, but we find that is not the case the next time we see them.

Cutting further to the chase, Riri and Tony A.I get the shield up, but in the process Steve basically locks the Ultimates out of Earth.

The Unity Squad touches down by the Defenders, where Rogue mentions something about guessing they’re Avengers again.

[I know this team got rocked recently, but I forget why.  Do they know that Steve is Hydra..?  Or just don’t trust him??  I gotta read up on them again.]

For a minute it looks like they all won.  [But as I said.  Steve locked the Ultimates out of Earth and, he makes this betrayal apparent soon after.]

He even allowed his own Hellicarrier to be brought down by Hydra Agents who invade the place.

They all arrive before Steve and Sharon and aim their guns at her.  He orders them not to shoot and to stand down, which confuses Sharon.

...This thing gets all over the place after that.  With Carol and the Ultimates finding out that they’re officially screwed and left for dead as more and more Chitauri waves come for them, we’re given an interesting caption.  “Stage One. Alpha Flight Space Station.”

Then we see that Zemo is outside of New York on a speedboat with Blackoutm as he holds the Darkholde book.  [Ah come on man.  That’s just pandering to casual S.H.I.E.L.D. TV fans...]

Zemo and/or Blackout initiate Stage Two, which is putting New York City in darkness, isolating it via a Darkforce Dimension.

We see Doctor Strange try to stop it, but it is unknown to us at this time if it did anything.

Then, we get to see our ‘Actual’ Avengers, the Champions and Spider-man move into action, as everyone starts to notice that something is up.

Tony A.I. calls “All Avengers” into action.

“If you can hear this, your services are required immediately-- We are under attack....  This is threat level red, Defcon Infinity Stuff here, people--  We need you to get to Washington D.C.!!!”

On the last page, we see Hellicarriers hover above the White House and a caption read, “Stage Three. Washington D.C. Objective: Hydra takeover. Mission: Underway.”

-To Be Continued!-

So yes.  A lot is going on.

And the end was very exciting.

But what the Hell am I reading Spencer??

And why did Marvel think this was the direction we needed to take???

Now.  I’m not gonna complain until I get more of a feel for what’s going on here.

So far this is definitely different.

But, I feel like Marvel is definitely throwing all of the wrenches in the cogs at this point, because they’ve promised apparently that this will be the Last Event for a while.  Thank God.

[I never thought I’d say that, because I love events.  It’s what got me into collecting in the first place.  But at this point, it’s clear that they’re a cash grab and not a story enhancer.  And not for nothing, but none of these Universe-changing events hold any weight when we know they’re just gonna get changed again in 3 months.]

So yeah.  In that regard, I am looking forward to wherever this event goes.

Because if Marvel inevitably hits the Reset Button again?  It’d be nice to see them stick to a plan this time...  And maybe.. Stop with the damn New #1′s.

...Until Secret Empire #1!

[This issue definitely felt like a #1...]