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tapwrites · 7 months

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P.L.U.G.: A Short Film Rewrite

Written based on a sci-fi short film by David Levy, back in 2016. It also helped me develop my ability to write action scenes, similar to my other #rewrite. It was fun to try writing the story in my own style, tweaking things, adding details and background where necessary for the written form. [source]

P.L.U.G. —Political Logistic Unifying Genome.

A soft beep. A second. Jessie stirred. A third. She groaned, rolling onto her front, away from the sound. A fourth. “Leave me alone, Mum,” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

Could she be back? Jessie bolted upright. “Mum!” she cried.

But Mum wasn’t here. She’d never see her face again. She was gone—just like Dad, just like Grandpa, just like the rest of the whole damned human race.

She winced at the harsh desert sun.

A fifth. The detector!

She looked to her left and started rummaging in the sand for the device. It continued its beep, its warning, its exultation in finally finding something. She picked it up and held the lens to her face, peering through the display. But it was dark, and blurry, sparks of light just visible as they ricocheted about the thin layer of smart glass.

Tapping a button on the side of her face mask, her vision shifted. Molecules in the mask’s lenses rearranged themselves until they let in the full light. It was blinding, but needs must.

Jessie held up the device once more and stared through the squat tube at the lens at the other end. The readout showed a life signature had been found just a few dozen yards to the south-east. Finally, a sign of life! It worked!

She slotted the concussive shells back into her pack and stood, sand falling from her in sheets. She wheeled on the spot, eyes wide, glancing up now and then to see if she could confirm what the hunk of metal was telling her. There! A white-hot blob showed on the glass. She strode towards it, pushing through drifts of sand and heading up a nearby dune.

It wasn’t heat she was looking for; there was more than enough of that out here, in the naked sun. She hadn’t figured out exactly how the device worked. Old 989 still didn’t believe the thing would even work. But she knew from some of her earliest memories of moving across the country that before the end—even before PLUG—there had been a way to differentiate human from machine, to detect life through matter. Her friend wouldn’t have got within 50 feet of a gate, back then. Now there weren’t any gates left.

The thing was a speck in the planet-wide desert, but plain as the antenna on a walking hotspot. Purest black on white sand. As she neared, she saw it scuttle away from her. An alien, insectoid thing the size of her palm.

She knelt in front of it, pulling out a clear container from the bag slung over her shoulder. It turned to face her. It bore two small pincers on its forelimbs, and hung its spiked tail up and over its body towards her. Was this creature always a part of Earth, or had it grown since they left PLUG in charge?

Holding the jar at arm’s length, she scooped it up, taking a handful of sand with it. The mess slipped to the bottom of the container as she put the lid on the top and pressed it down firmly, sealing it tight. She didn’t want whatever it was escaping and nibbling on her in the middle of the night.

Jessie held it in front of her, the creature clicking and squirming, angry at its detainment. It was trapped. All alone. It glared out at the wider universe, and came to know it would never escape its new home.

She sighed, and placed the bottle in the sack. She had to show 989.

The jagged metal jaws closed behind her, sunlight being sliced away from the room until only the flickering overhead fluorescents remained. She ambled forward, pulling the mask down round her neck and shoving the hood back.

Her long, blonde hair tumbled from the coat and caught on the mask. She pulled at the strands, freeing them from its grasp, and looked over into the depths of the bar.

A rainbow array of tiny LEDs sparked and bounced off the chairs and tables and the head panels of the robots. In the back sat a tall, chunky metalhead. Red stripes painted the back of its neck, slipping up the fins on its smooth, metal head and running down its shoulders. 989.

A smile grew on her face. He’d never believe it! She waved, with a smirk, and stepped forward.

A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“What is your reference number?” a voice growled. The bot was angular—tall, triangular ports stuck proudly from the side of its head. Blue panels presenting menacing, jagged lines down the face that wasn’t there.

None of them had faces. All they needed were sensors, motors, and a CPU. The hardware wasn’t designed to put humans at ease. They were designed to get the job done. Then designed to kill.

She pulled her arm from its grip. “Let go of me, dumbass,” she said, dismissively. The bot dropped and wandered off to the back of the room.

Once the war ended, the majority of military models became impotent. A lot of them still stood in the corners of warehouses, awaiting instructions. Those that still had some agency—ones originally designed as aides or bodyguards that were designed to interact with people—became impotent to humans. Well, to her at least. They were just puppy dogs, now.

As she passed through the bar, some bots nodded, a mechanical burble buzzing from their speakers. Others ignored her and focussed on porting their Juice.

She gazed over at the barman, a would-be maintenance bot with 4 bright beams on the front of its head. She approached, and leaned up against the steel plating that formed the counter top.

“What’s wrong with your doorman?” she asked.

It looked up from rearranging the Juiceboxes for the umpteenth time. “It’s touchy,” it said. It sounded like a shaver running out of power. Ironically. “We’ve had some attacks. Anomalies.”

“Bad machines, huh?” Some military models—even a few public-sector bots—went crazy after the war ended.

“There are no bad machines,” it said. “Just bad programming.”

She laughed under her breath. “Yeah. Right.” It was rare—they moved around a lot—but they performed raids on bars like this one to keep themselves going. These maintenance ports would serve anyone that walked in through the front door with a modicum of scrap, but crazy be crazy. She just hoped she’d never come across them. They’d have the scanners too, and may not take too kindly to finding a real-live human wandering around on their planet. “Speaking of bad programming…”

She slipped away from the bar and strode deeper into the room. Marker sat oblivious, welding a panel, flashes of vibrant yellow strobing on the wall beyond. He wore an old leather jacket. He was one of those.

Most knew PLUG reserved that privilege of sentience—of true autonomy—for itself. But as she got to know Nine, she doubted the legend of PLUG’s all-knowing, all-powerful, all-unique-as-a-snowflake persona.

Jessie tapped him on the shoulder. “What’s up, tin man?” He turned to look at her, its aerodynamic fins flicking by her head, central white and red leds dimming so as to not blind her delicate optical sensors. “Am I late?” she asked.

He turned back to the panel and readied for another blast of plasma. “Of course you are.” His voice wasn’t loud and obnoxious like the others. It was softer, more… human, somehow.

She hadn’t figured out what model he was yet. From the red dot on his forehead he could’ve been a Marker. But he was always swapping panels and grafting better servos onto himself, so the head panels could’ve been from anywhere. The other seemed squeamish of such “perverted modifications,” but her 989 was pragmatic. A realist.

As she sat down he discarded the torch in favour of a small circular saw, and resumed work. She flipped open her bag and pulled out the jar. The bug raised its claws as it was brought out into the light, wary of what day-ruining nonsense would come for him next.

She plonked it on the steel slab of the table and looked up at Nine, grinning from ear to ear.

He paused, and looked over at the jar, then at Jessie. He picked up it up and brought it closer to the sensing nodes buried beneath tiny holes in his faceplate. He looked back at the girl. The leds flickered as he spoke. “He’ll cook it for you if you ask nicely,” he said, putting it back on the table.

“Not that desperate,” she said, pulling the bag off her shoulder and folding it next to her. “Yet. I found it, Nine! With the mil-spec sensor, it works! It picks up anything living within 200 yards.”

He paused for a moment, glancing between Jessie and the bug.

She shook her head, her smile fading, and pulled the device out of the bag. “You have to try it out.” She handed it to him.

He took it, turning it over in his hand, head cocked as he tried to scan it for an interface. With a laugh, Jessie took his arm and moved it to the grip. “This one’s for humans, man,” she said. She pulled his arm up in front of him, then flicked a switch on the top of the unit. “Point and shoot.”

He waved it about, and it started scanning the area. “It’s not bad,” he said, looking back at her.

Her smile picked up again, then a look of determination. “So can we go looking? Today?”

989 paused once again, then shook his head and put the device down.

“Nine, help me!”

“Jessie, your parents are gone.” His voice was slow and deliberate. “They’ve all gone.” He leaned back in his chair. “Humans messed up the planet and they left.”

“No. Not everyone. I’m still here!”

“Yes. And you’re the exception.”

Jessie’s jaw slackened and eyes dropped. They flitted over the table—to the device, to the jar, to the trapped little animal inside. “Please,” she said, reaching forward and holding his gloved hand. She looked up into his faceplate. “Help me.”

He looked up, back down at the panel. Nine was all she had. She couldn’t do this without him. He looked into her eyes. “Okay. We’re not going to find anything,” he said, waving a pointed finger in her direction, “But we’ll go looking.”

She smiled and took the device back, fiddling with the controls. They were doing it. They were actually doing it!

The doors opened, spraying light across the gloomy hall. A figure stepped in, red lights sparkling about its bulbous head. It waited as the doorman stepped forward and waved its detector over its body, the doors closing behind it. After a moment, the doorman stepped back and the newcomer stepped into the room. It strode to the bar and asked for an Electro.

She hadn’t seen its model before. It almost looked like an old multipurpose attendant unit, but the shape was all wrong.

Jessie shrugged and continued playing with the detector, pointing it round the room at robot after robot, watching the readout struggle to keep up with the motion.

It started to beep.

A green glow spread across the bar as a cylinder of Juice was placed on it. “What have you got for me?” the barman said.

The red robot put something onto the metal counter.

The barman sounded surprised as he inspected the parts. “It’s been a while,” it said. “They don’t build them like these any more.”

“Yeah, they don’t make ‘em like me any more, either,” Red responded. It picked up the liter Juicebox and turned away from the bar. “Too bad.” Its voice was clearer, its range intact. Speakers were the first things to go, but the metalheads weren’t too fussed. All they needed was a clean enough signal to be interpreted by other drones and they could get by okay.

Jessie frowned down at the device, patting it on its side. The beeping stopped. Was there faulty wiring? Was the CPU finally dying? “There’s something messing with it.”

“Atmospheric EM?” 989 asked.

She stood, and held it out, testing the back wall, the chairs. “No, it’s something else.” She wandered through the bar, waving it towards robot after robot, waving it at herself. It all seemed fine, now. Beeping when it should beep, silent when it—

It beeped again, this time aimed out into the room. It was even stronger here, the lens showing a large blob of blurry white. Jessie moved forward, following its lead. She looked up. At a robot sitting behind a table. The one with red LEDs speckling its head. It looked back at her, then grew still.

It didn’t look military. It wasn’t raiding the place. It was just sitting there, quietly locking the green power cell into an alcove on its back. “Excuse me,” she said. “But what are you made of?”

It didn’t respond.

She shrugged and stepped forward, pulling a lighter out from her coat. Flicking out a flame, she started examining the unit closely. It didn’t flinch. A puppy dog, like all of them. Her fingers spidered over carbon fibre plating and thick cables connecting limbs to torso, head to body. She couldn’t see a single thing out of place that could explain the readouts she was getting.

She moved round to its faceplate. Sensors, twin IR blasters, thin speaker grill on the bottom half… The flame guttered. Jessie frowned. The door was closed. There was no ventilation needed for the metalheads. She looked back at the red robot three inches in front of her face, breath caught in her chest.

“Are you—”

A powerful kick to the chest sent Jessie flying back into a storage container propped up against the bar. Chaos flowered in the close confines, robots standing, gunfire ringing out. Metalheads dropped around her as she crawled towards the back of the room.

“Nine!” she called, her voice drowned behind the sound of gunpowder blasts and the clanks of half-ton machines falling to the grating.

The fluorescents switched off. The sound of motors whirred in the background as the hatches and ports sealed. Red flashes transformed the room in a kaleidoscope of light and shadow. He’d taken the power. He was one of the raiders, after all. Was there a military model she wasn’t aware of?

989 stepped towards her. “Jessie!” He looked away from her, back towards the red robot.

It was slaughtering them. It was killing them all. They didn’t have a chance!

She jumped up off the floor, bruised ribs etching hot pain across her belly. “No!” she yelled, grabbing her friend in a bear hug. They couldn’t die. Not when they were so close!

There was a pause. The only sound was her heartbeat in her ears. 989 half-heartedly struggled against her. But the only way he could break through would be to rip her arms away from him. She held fast.

An explosion sounded behind them and a fraction of a second later they were blown back. Nine slammed into the bulkhead with a crunch, and Jessie’s head slammed into his steel chest.

When she opened her bleary eyes, the room was bright again. She winced, holding her head as she turned to look at the room. The bright white light of the sun glinted off of still, metal bodies. Melted circled lines cavities that weren’t there by design.

“Are you okay?” Nine said.

Ignoring him, she stood and walked into the room. She glanced behind the bar. Most of the Juice had been taken. What was left had been shot through, the glowing ooze dripping down aluminium fascias.

“I told you, it’s not safe for you here.”

The sharp smell of burning wires and singed circuits filled her nose. All this death. What was it for? And if the thing truly was alive—maybe human—what would it need with all that power?

She frowned, and started walking. Either way, if the thing was human, she had to know. It couldn’t get away from her. Not now.

“I’m driving,” she said, and stepped out into the light.

Plumes of dust billowed from the back wheels of the buggy as the loud petrol engine sang out across the desert. The mask wasn’t great for visibility, but Jessie needed it in the naked sun. There was no atmosphere to protect them, now.

“Where are they?” she yelled, her voice muffled through the mask and the wind beyond.

989, sitting to her right in the passenger seat, continued scanning the horizon with the device. “Are you sure this thing is working?” he said.

They bounced over a pothole. She tightened her grip on the wheel and pushed the pedal to the floor. “It’s fine. I need the heading or he’ll get away from me.”

He stared at her a moment, then looked back at the scanner. “Okay, okay,” he mumbled. He twisted it round to get a better look at the controls. “Maybe if I—” The device beeped. Nine thrust out a finger to the left. “There!”

Jessie pulled hard on the wheel. Her body pulled to the right, the harness digging into her ribs, blooming the pain once more. Nine righted himself perfectly, as always. He didn’t even need a harness to keep him in the seat—and if they crashed he’d just shake it off anyway.

They rounded another port into a ravine, cliffs guarding either side. Its jagged sheets of metal jutted out of the sand and rock at odd angles. There were hundreds, thousands, of the things perforating the Earth, now.

The machine-made buildings didn’t have any sense of aesthetic the early models had. Once PLUG started making its own soldiers all but necessity and optimisation went out the window. Seemed this port was dead too though. No lights, all locked up. Just what did they need the power cells for?

The sound of a second combustion engine reverberated about the rocky cliffs. Just a couple hundred feet away, a motorcycle powered away from them. A green glow stabbed through a large sack that was pinned to the back of the seat. And the rider was a metalhead, its face glowing red as it glanced over its shoulder. But then, why would a robot need to turn its head to look behind it if it had sensors?

A small, dark object shot into the air from the bike towards them. A silent blip blip blip flashed as it turned in the air. A pipe bomb!

“Look out!” Nine shouted.

Jessie pulled right, swerving to avoid the explosive. It went off as they passed, sending rubble and sand high into the air. As they pushed through the other side of the cloud she swerved left, just scraping one of the cliffs. “That was close,” she muttered.

“What was?” he yelled.

“Nothing!” she yelled back. Perfect hearing could be pretty annoying at times.

The cliffs finally gave way and the bike made a sudden swerve to the left. It hit a long piece of plate steel and launched into the air.

She pulled the buggy round, trying to follow the bike’s agile movements. But the vehicle lost traction in the loose sand, skidding sideways and sending a cloud of dust into the air. Feeling control slip out of her grasp she cut the throttle and let the buggy come to a stop.

Jessie slammed her hands into the wheel, swearing.

989 stood up, his head poking through the roof, followed the bike as the assailant rode away. “It’s okay. We can—” He looked down. “Woah! Now that was close.”

As the smoke cleared Jessie saw a wide, gaping crevice in the ground just a few feet away from the back tires. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she said, tears welling up. Why didn’t she just let him drive? “I didn’t—”

“Oh just shut up and drive, would you?” Nine said, slipping back down into his seat. The suspension creaked with the heavy weight change.

She sniffed and wiggled her fingers under her mask, wiping at her eyes. “But we’ll never fit on the—”

“Just go around. I think I know where he’s going. Now get going!”

With a smile, she floored the pedal once more, her head snapping back as they zoomed away.

The crack in the Earth wasn’t that long, as it turned out. They rounded the end within a minute, and it only took one more to catch up with the fugitive.

It stood next to the bike beneath a tall structure, which was maybe five meters in height. It was a strange, spindly thing, with four legs stabbed straight down into the ground. After a joint, the legs continued in a cross-beam, joining the four corners of a square above. Where the four beams met hung a big, blocky, old-world engine of some kind; some form of unfamiliar tech. The steel was thin—no sign of the usual carbon nanotube alloy that marked all machine structures. If this was the beginnings of some kind of structure, it wouldn’t last long once they put the walls up.

Hearing the buggy hurtle through the cracked stone, it turned, flashing its red LEDs. Shaking its head, he stamped on a small protrusion in the ground and walked towards them. As he moved away the bike started to sink into the ground, as if the sand shifted out of the way, leaving a gaping hole.

A dark steel device glinted in the sun as the robot turned it in his hands, a long, heavy device, not unlike the pipe bomb in design. Another bomb? Jessie pushed harder into the floor, willing the small buggy to go faster.

But Red didn’t throw it. Instead, it hoisted it in front of itself, slammed it into the ground, and walked back towards the structure. She could see now that there was a small light flashing on its top, and a glass-like chamber along its length.

“What the—?”

The explosion was silent, but she felt the blast. A flash of light from the thing’s bulb, and then the engine cut out.

The pedals didn’t respond. The sound of arcing electricity was loud in her ears. She turned and returned the key, but the ignition didn’t even try to start. “Nine, what’s going on?” She glanced up at the machine still walking back to the structure. He was getting away! If he could shift into the sand too, she’d never see him again!

“Nine, what do we do?” Jessie shouted. She turned to look at her friend, but he didn’t respond. She shook him, but all she heard was the clatter of the machine gun as it fell from his hands onto the cracked, desiccated earth. “Nine?”

She turned his head towards her. The LEDs flickered and died as she watched. No. No! She didn’t care about her parents. They abandoned her long ago. When 989 found her, he kept her safe from militaries. He brought her food from old survival bunkers where the food was still flash-frozen from before they all left her. What did she need the humankind for? But now he’d been taken from her, too.

Looking back at the red robot, she scowled. Whoever it was, whatever it was, it didn’t deserve to live. Not when it’d taken everything from her.

Jessie stepped out of the buggy and turned back. She ripped an automatic magnetically attached to the side of the vehicle, and started walking.

She ripped the mask from her face, half-blinded by direct sunlight. “Hey!” she screamed. It ignored her, still walking away. She poked a few buttons on the weapon’s side and hefted it up, aiming towards the creature. “Wait!”

It turned. She fired.

The first spray of bullets popped as it drew a line up one of the structure’s legs.

The robot glanced at the damage, then back at her. It held out a hand for her to stop.

“That important to you?” she yelled, reloading. She pressed another button, shifting it to shotgun mode. The robot’s head drooped and it brought its hand to its face. “Good!”

She hefted the gun once more and trained it on the machine. Her life was over. But not before she finished this.

Red looked up. Its faceplate was missing. But instead of motors and actuators, chips and sensors, there was something pink and fleshy behind that mask. Jessie stopped dead in her tracks, her breath leaving her.

She made unintelligible noises, trying to speak the torrent of thoughts running through her mind. Was it alive? Was it human? She stared at the creature, at its eyes, at its stubble. It had a nose. It had teeth. It… frowned.

The Earth shook. Stumbling back, Jessie fought to stay upright as she saw cracks pop from the ground. A great scraping sound echoed from overhead. She looked up and saw the structure start to move. An earthquake? Would the scaffolding fall?

“Stupid girl,” Red muttered. Its voice was deeper than hers, like the machines themselves, but there was no buzz and crackle of the speaker. It—or he—turned and walked back towards where the motorbike had sank down.

The engine flipped upside down and seemed to open up into something else. The legs transformed too, the horizontal shafts sliding down the verticals until the whole thing was only a couple of meters off the ground. A leg ripped out of the ground and slammed back down to the hard ground. Its other legs followed suit. The engine—or its head, maybe—flashed red, just like the robot. It glared down at her as it spidered across the ground toward her.

Jessie fired once more, watching as what little shot hit the thing glanced harmlessly off its shell. It wasn’t just ordinary steel, then. She threw the gun to the ground, turned, and ran.

The shells! As she stumbled on, she patted down her trousers, searching for the small devices. Bringing one out, she glanced down at it. The bombs were small, but if she was lucky and hit it in a vent, or damaged a processing unit, maybe she’d make it out of this alive.

She turned and threw it wildly, as hard as she could. It hit the creature’s head and detonated in a cloud of fire and smoke. The blast knocked her off balance, and she fell to the dirt. She could hear the thing walk on, barely a hitch in its stride. This was it. First her family, then her other family, and now her. Why did she deserve this?

A shadow crossed her as the machine stopped, perched over her. Motors worked and gears whirred as it readied to strike. She kept her eyes on the ground. She’d stared at her own oblivion for a decade now. She couldn’t bare to watch as it finally caught up with her.

An explosion cracked the sky. Orange bloomed over the sands as heat flashed across her back. And death didn’t come.

“Jessie!” a soft, mechanical voice said.

She started to push herself off the ground, staring up at him in a daze. Nine? But he was dead.

“Get down!” he barked, raising a long, heavy railgun at the beast once more.

She dropped to the dirt and covered the back of her head as the second orange flash hit. The sound of steel ripping and panels warping screamed into the desert. The hunking metal monster crashed to the ground behind her with an almighty crunch. But she couldn’t look. It was her imagination. She’d finally snapped. After all these years, she finally lost it!

“Jessie, you okay?” That same haunting voice. “Come on. Get up.” He couldn’t make her. Tears started to cloud her vision. He couldn’t make her anymore.

But then something strange happened. Something touched her. Something hard, but padded like a leather glove. Padded like the gloves Nine got so he could hug her without leaving bruises in her skin. She was picked up from the ground, and put on her feet, in a whirl of motion. He never did get the hang of subtlety.

Jessie looked up into those flickering white and red LEDs. “Are you okay?” he said. She stared at him for a moment. Same fins, same smooth design… same leather jacket. She wrapped her arms around him in that same desperate bear hug she always did. Maybe she was crazy. Or maybe her life wasn’t over after all.

“Jessie.”

“I thought you were dead,” she sobbed.

“ Hold on.”

She frowned and hugged him tighter. “I’m so—”

“Look!” he shouted.

Reluctantly, she relaxed her grip and turned to look at the monster. “It’s dead. You saved—”

He pointed. “No, look!”

Her eyes moved beyond the wreckage and landed on square metal sheet in the ground, not far from where the bike had sunk underground. But no, it wasn’t scrap. It was a door. A hatch. No, it was a lift.

Jessie let go of 989 and stepped towards it, shielding her eyes from the harsh sun. “I thought we were done.”

Nine strode past her. “Not today.”

She followed as he picked a path through the wreckage. The smell of burning oil and melting metals seeped into the hot air.

As they neared the site, something caught the light—a bulge in the Earth. She knelt down in front of it and started wiping the dust off its surface. It was cool to the touch, though not as cold as glass. But as she dusted off the rubble she saw darkness beyond. It was a half-spherical window, jutting out of the ground, letting in light like in the bunkers she’d wandered through as a kid. But what was it letting light into?

“Jessie, be careful.”

“On it,” she said. She leaned forward, hands on either side of the window, peering in through the transparent material. It wasn’t just dark in there. There were lights, a mass of thin cables, meter-wide pipes, gridded walkways, tunnels… “How long has this been here?” she muttered.

A gunshot rang out. She looked up to see Nine spin through the air, falling in slow-mo to the ground. “No!” Not again. “Don’t—!”This was not happening again!

She stood and whirled around to see the man from before, gun trained on the robot.

“What are you doing?” she shouted, stepping in front of her friend.

He stepped gingerly towards her, his gun still at the ready. His robotic armour seemed grotesque now, perverse.

“We—” she stuttered. What could she say? “I was just looking for… someone.”

“Well you’ve found us,” the man said, craning his neck to look round. “But that thing ain’t gonna talk about it. Get back!”

“No. No!”

989 touched her shoulder. “Jessie, there’s plenty more like me. There’s no one like you.”

She ignored him, staring hotly at the man in front of her. “He’s… He’s all I’ve got.”

His gun lowered a little. “That tin man?” he said with a snarl. “Don’t make me sick!” His expression softened. “What have they been pumping you with? Sister, your people are people.”

She stood her ground. “The ‘people’ all left.”

He frowned.

She continued. “They left me. They messed up the Earth and then they left it for the machines to clear up.”

His face broke into a smile. “My… They messed things up alright, but they didn’t just bug out!” He looked over her right shoulder, at Nine. “Go on, tin can. You tell her.”

Jessie worked her fist open and closed. “Tell me what?”

“Tell her!” the man yelled.

Nine stepped forward, and turned to face her. “Humans were the problem. PLUG had to make them to go.” His head dropped. “They were killing the planet, Jessie. There was no choice—”

“Wait.” She looked at the man, then back at Nine. Her friend. Her protector who would never lie… “You made them leave?” He looked away. “Everyone?”

“Almost everyone.”

She stepped back from him. Her knuckles were white, now. “Why keep me?”

“The ships had already gone,” he said. “It was the right thing to do.”

She looked away, stared out at the desert. It wasn’t his fault. If PLUG wasn’t the saviour they said it was, it would never have sent that order. Even the vast machine workforce weren’t to blame. Nine was sentient before he found her; he made his own choices.

“Jealous?” the man said. He raised his weapon once more, readying to fire on 989.

She ran back to the robot, arm reaching toward the man. “No!” she said. “Not like this!”

The man’s voice was harsh, but pleading. “He’s not going back with what he’s seen.”

Nine started tugging at her bag, but she just stared into the man’s eyes. She wasn’t going to move.

His tone shifted to determination. “I’ve gotta tell you, no metalhead is worth his hide to me.” He reloaded his weapon, a thousand microshots slotting into the barrel.

Still she didn’t move.

He waited a few seconds, before swearing. “Bad choice,” he said, hefting the gun. “Okay, you’re done. We’re exposed. Screw you both.”

“No!” Nine shouted. His arm shot out in front of Jessie. Something small flew out of his hand.

The man screamed as it hit him square in the face. Frantically, he brushed at the thing until it fell to the ground. He stamped on it once, twice, then stepped back, feeling at his face through gloved hands.

Jessie looked down. A big bug lay dead at the man’s feet, its long, barbed tail still and broken. The man yelled, terrified of something.

“What…” she mumbled. He fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Suddenly he grew quiet, curling up in a rictus ball. “What the hell was that?”

“That bug you found. It was a scorpion,” Nine said. “Its venom can kill a human in a few hours.”

She turned to him. “What?”

He walked past her towards the man, still writhing silently on the floor. “Want to know why I told you not to go looking for weird creatures in the desert?” he stopped over the man and stared down. Shaking his head, 989 raised his leg. “Just ask him.”

“Don’t,” she said, touching the robot’s shoulder. He stood at ease, and looked back at her. She looked around again, out at the desert, over the window, back at the hatch. After a moment’s thought, she turned back to her friend. “Carry him,” she said. “We’re going in.”

The robot picked up the prone body of the only other human on the planet—as far as she could tell—and slung the man over his back.

They walked back to the lift hatch. She turned one last time at the world she’d been trapped in for so many years. At the life of loneliness, of abandonment. She’d find PLUG. She’d bring humans back to their home planet. She’d find her parents.

“You may find no answers down there, Jessie,” Nine said, stepping up next to her. “You know that, right?”

She stomped on the small glowing button embedded in the lift floor and felt the steel start to descend. “But it’s a good place to start.”

#sci-fi #writing exercise #rewrite

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thezanyarthropleura · 1 year

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March 21 (1 of 2: 1969)

(This post covers Gamera: vs. Guiron, look out for a separate Gamera vs. Jiger post later today)

Happy 54 years to Gamera vs. Guiron, the fifth film in the Showa era, and happy 53 years to Gamera vs. Jiger, the sixth film in the Showa era. Two back-to-back films with quadrupedal enemy monsters, even if Guiron apparently only is because the suit was too impractical for him to be bipedal. Also, two films that play reference to major cross-culture world events happening around the time of release.

Gamera vs. Guiron is the tragic tale of two single mothers, Kuniko and Elza, who are clearly in love with each other, but who’ve been so broken by repression and stolen dreams that they seal themselves in worlds where anything strange and exciting, even with proof, is simply fantasy, and life goals outside the strictly practical are to be brushed aside as demons of false hope. Despite an alien invasion taking place the previous year (confirmed as canon by its presence in flashbacks from Akio’s memories), both women refuse to believe Kuniko’s daughter Tomoko when she insists Akio and Tom were abducted by an alien spaceship, dismissing all previous alien sightings as made-up stories. Elza insists it’s unhealthy to allow children to believe such things, and Kuniko pushes her children away from their love of space and toward their studies – especially Tomoko, who she perhaps has some desperate hope will be given better options in life than she herself was.

Also, Guiron is a giant knife monster, Space Gyaos gets chopped up like a thanksgiving turkey, and Gamera competes in the Olympics. Perhaps I haven’t made it sound like it so far, but make no mistake, this is a FUN Gamera movie, perhaps the most fun out of all of them! It’s also the film where I put on my continuity goggles (overtop of my shipping goggles) and start yelling “I’ve connected the two points!” into the void, so get ready folks, this one’s a doozy!

This film might as well be called Gamera’s space adventure, because that’s exactly what it is, a film where Gamera gets to go into space and fight monsters on an alien planet. The monster action is well-known for being extensive, brutal, and filled with fun and wacky moments. If you’ve ever seen that widely-circulated clip of Gamera swinging again and again around a yellow pole, only to succumb to gravity and reverse directions for another few goes around, that’s from this movie, and no, it doesn’t really make any more sense in context, other than apparently having been inspired by the then-recent 1968 Olympic Games in Mexico.

All this monster wackiness is observed by the aforementioned two children, Akio and Tom, who are lured to space by their innate, hopeful desire to visit an advanced civilization that’s solved all the tragic problems of Earth (joke all you want about Akio’s insistence that ‘war’ and ‘traffic accidents’ are the two equivalent pillars of evil, you won’t after Gamera the Brave). This film begins the tradition of including a third child protagonist, specifically one boy’s sister, who is present in the film but doesn’t get to go on the main adventure, instead being relegated to subplots. This would continue into the next movie, Gamera vs. Jiger, but be resolved by the final mainline Showa film Gamera vs. Zigra, in which one of the main two is a little girl who has her own sidelined sister character. In this case, the third wheel is Akio’s sister Tomoko, who spends the film sneaking around desperately trying to pry Kuniko and Elza out of their small, closed-off, oppressed worlds to realize their children are in real trouble.

Now, this isn’t really a movie one is supposed to think too much about, but since I’m the type of kaiju fan who’s at her happiest when metaphorically disassembling 18th-century warships and soldering together their primary armaments into complex and beautiful public art installations… let’s do some canon-welding!

Our primary antagonists here are Barbella and Florbella, apparently the two sole humanoid inhabitants of planet Tera. Nearly all the exposition they give about their species and planet is in the presence of Akio and Tom, who they’re intending to deceive, such that it can be taken as a stretch of the truth if there’s any truth to it at all. Their real objective is to harvest the children’s brains and use the information contained within to adapt themselves, a process they compare to microorganisms acclimating to a new environment. They seem intent on using this adaptation process for some sort of invasion or at least infiltration of planet Earth.

Characteristics we see outside of the children’s presence, and thus that can be assumed to be true of their species, include eyes that glow and flicker yellow in low light conditions (a trait shared by the ‘human suits’ used by the Virasians in the previous film), the fact they disintegrate completely into light upon death (a trait shared by Giruge from Super Monster, who this author assumes is a fourth Spacewoman from the peaceful star M88 and thus this trait can be applied to the others), that they can communicate in a fast, chirp-like language but don’t always use it (later continuing to speak in Japanese/English depending on the film version even when they two of them are alone), and that they apparently possess a cultural philosophy in which the useless must be killed.

Ideas they relay to the children, and thus cannot be completely trusted as fact, include that they are the last survivors of a civilization advanced enough to control the weather (similar to the Muans), that the planet they inhabit, Tera, is beginning an ice age, thus necessitating their speedy departure for Earth, and that a powerful computer is responsible for, through an apparent error, creating destructive monsters that wiped out the rest of their people (similar to the Atlanteans and Nilai-Kanai).

One idea relayed to the children, but that there is solid evidence for in the film, is that the facility they occupy is besieged by creatures called Space Gyaos. Space Gyaos is very interesting, because we see (mostly in the background on monitors) that there are in fact many of them, allegedly having infested the planet and killed off is population. It’s eerily reminiscent of what regular Gyaos would eventually become known for in the Heisei trilogy and beyond. Presuming Barbella and Florbella are telling the truth about the planet’s computer being responsible for the Space Gyaos, it brings to mind the inevitable question of whether it’s also somehow connected to the Earth Gyaos. Does this supposed computer, and by extension the two women and their society on Tera, have some secret connection to ancient Earth?

Building on the speculations of Den Valdron and Chris N. in regard to the Toho alien races and the ancient Muans, it might be logical to assume the Teran people are a lost space colony of the ancient Atlanteans. However, something we have to contend with here are the characteristics listed above, which seem to preclude them being completely human. In particular, the fact they disintegrate on death (which happens regardless of whether or not they are killed by an energy weapon), seems to point in the direction of them being energy beings or artificial constructs of some kind.

If we connect the Terans to both the M88 inhabitants and the Virasian human suits, it’s clear they mimic human biology to high degree – they can bleed, they have fleshy limbs, they eat and sleep – but then somehow have the capacity to dissolve into energy. And if they can return to energy, perhaps they were created from it, leading to the question of who or what created them. Fortunately, this film already introduces something said to be capable of creating living beings – the Teran control computer.

It is my speculation that no living Atlanteans made it into space, but something they created did - an artificial construct that played a role in the creation of at least the Gyaos, and retained the template in order to produce a new kind of Gyaos on planet Tera. A construct that has some limited capacity to create energy-based servitors that evoke the image of its human creators (with all or at least some variations given the capacity to communicate with the construct in its own electronic language, to process organic matter into electronic data, and instilled with an enforced mentality of strict utilitarianism), some of which later broke free of its control and spread throughout the galaxy to ultimately become its enemies. A construct that, after having its monsters and servitors defeated on Tera but being, itself, left intact, would go into hiding, recouping its losses until, eleven years later, it would launch a final invasion of its planet of origin, Earth, restarting the Tera production facility and utilizing copies of all the monster templates at its disposal.

As an addendum to the timeline put forth in my post on the Wold-Newton literary concept and kaiju cinema, here are the events, as I suggest they have occurred, in the chronicle of Atlantean Genetic Supercomputer Zanon:

12,000 years ago: As Atlantis is destroyed, an artificial intelligence used in the Atlantean genetics program escapes into space, either already or sometime thereafter named “Zanon.” It brings with it the plans for many of the Atlanteans’ creations, including the previously-made Gyaos, Barugon, and Jiger. It is unknown if Guiron, Zigra, and Viras had also been created at that point, had been designed but not yet produced, or were new designs invented by Zanon after it fled into space (Thematically, I personally prefer the middle version). It is also unknown whether Zanon has the capacity to create a Gamera, and if so, whether the amount of Mana needed is what makes such an attempt too costly and impractical.

12,000 years ago to 1968: Either immediately or in the intervening millennia, Zanon settles on planet Tera, produces the Space Gyaos and Guiron, and creates a race of hybridized biological/energy servitors to do its bidding, not all necessarily in that order. At some point, a significant amount of these servitors rebel or otherwise are separated from Zanon’s control, and establish at least one colony, the Peaceful Star M88. Zanon would later attack and destroy M88, leaving at least three, perhaps four survivors. It is unknown whether Zanon is responsible for the Zigra and Virasian specimens that come to act independently in the galaxy during this time, or whether they’d been previously produced by the Atlanteans and made their way into space following Atlantis’s destruction. Either way, the Virasians at some point acquire humanoid disguises bearing a common origin with the Zanon servitors.

1968: Virasians outside Zanon’s control make two attempts to invade Earth, the first thwarted immediately by Gamera and the second by two human children. It is possible this brought Earth and perhaps Gamera to Zanon’s attention, and may have played a role in Zanon potentially targeting children for information the next year.

1969: By this year, Zanon is operating on Tera with the aid of two servitors and Guiron. The Space Gyaos are no longer under Zanon’s control, if they ever were, and Guiron must be used to defend Zanon’s computer core from their attacks. An unoccupied spacecraft is sent to Earth in a plot to capture and return specimens of modern humans to Tera, where knowledge of Earth’s present civilization will be extracted from their minds and used to plan a later invasion of the world. The plan is thwarted by Gamera, who rescues the two captured children. In the ensuing battle, both servitors and Guiron are killed, but Zanon’s computer core remains outside Gamera’s suspicions and is able to flee the planet.

1971: A Zigra outside Zanon’s control attempts to invade Earth, and is killed by Gamera. This may have influenced Zanon’s later decisions, either by further motivating it to see Earth as a threat or convincing it to delay and gather more forces prior to making a full invasion.

1980: By this year, three survivors of M88 are present on Earth, secretly embedded in the population but known to its inhabitants as “Spacewomen” when they act using their uniforms and abilities. Zanon is now operating out of a mobile starship and is aided by one servitor, whose independence suggests she may be a survivor of M88 or another colony who has willfully sworn allegiance to Zanon. The kaiju production facility on Tera has also been reactivated and is in use by Zanon. Gamera destroys all the newly-produced kaiju and uses a sacrificial Mana blast to destroy Zanon’s starship, presumably ending the rogue Atlantean AI’s reign of terror for good.

(*continuity goggles off*) Gamera vs. Guiron is one of my favorite Showa films, its fun factor eclipsing most others and its unique setting and possible lore boosting its appeal. In my view, it’s the definitive ‘turn off your brain and enjoy the nonsense’ Gamera movie, and it’s bound to be a fun time for any viewer willing to roll with it. And we can only hope there’s a brighter, happier future ahead for Kuniko and Elza, who have now come to accept the supernatural as part of their lives and may, perhaps, let go of some other old ideas and recognize the love they share for what it is.

Enjoy this movie with cosmic brownies and some sliced-up Gyaos pepperoni.

#gamera #gamera vs guiron #guiron #space gyaos #kuniko gamera #elza gamera #tera gamera #zanon gamera #viras #peaceful star m88 #atlantis gamera #gamera march #a lesbian reviews all the gamera movies

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happystarfishmaker · 1 year

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The Top 5 Mirror Dash Cams With Wireless Rear Cameras

A recent study by The Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS) revealed that drivers who use rearview mirror cameras are 33% less likely to be involved in a collision. This is thanks, in part, to the fact that these cameras can help drivers see what’s behind them more clearly. So if you’re looking for a way to keep yourself and others safe on the road, consider investing in a mirror dash cam with wireless rear camera. These devices offer superior video quality and can help you avoid costly accidents. Here are five of the best mirror dash cams with wireless rear cameras on the market today.

Wireless Rear Cameras for Mirror Dash Cams

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1. Best Time Lapse Dash Cams Looking to capture amazing time lapse footage of your drives? Here are the best mirror dash cams with wireless rear cameras! The first thing you need to consider is the resolution of your camera. The higher the resolution, the better the quality of your footage. Next, look for a camera that has Wi-Fi capabilities so you can easily transfer your videos and pictures saved onto your device to online storage providers like Dropbox or Google Drive. Third, ensure that your camera has a good range so you can keep filming even if you’re far away from your vehicle. Fourth, make sure that the camera has an easy-to-use interface so you don’t have to learn complex software in order to start capturing footage. Fifth and finally, be sure to get a dash cam with a long battery life so you can keep filming for hours on end without having to worry about a power outage.

Conclusion

Looking for a wireless rear camera for your car? Check out our top 5 mirror dash cams with wireless rear cameras! These cameras are perfect for use when you need to capture footage of accidents or other events that occur behind the vehicle. They also come with a built-in microphone so you can easily make recordings without having to remove your hands from the wheel.

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slotspeace347 · 2 years

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How many spins is 1980

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List of UK Singles Chart number ones of the 1980s - Wikipedia.

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Spin Painter - M... Save Clear. Stressed-out (1983) thirty-somethings (1981) relaxed in wine bars (1981), shopaholics (1977) shopped till they dropped, the chattering classes (1980) chattered, foodies (1980) held olive-oil tastings, and power dressing (1979) was the fashion statement that mattered. But if the rich got richer in the 1980s, the poor also got poorer.

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Simply select your birthdate in the form above and our app will calculate how many revolutions around the Sun and how many spins on its axis did each planet make in this time - meaning, how many years and days have passed there. It will also give you the date of your next birthday on each of the planets. Read here if you want to know more about. 1980-1989 These are the top 100 songs from the 1980s according to Dave's Music Database. Rankings are figured by combining sales figures, chart data, radio airplay, video airplay, streaming figures, awards, and appearances on best-of lists.

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So the Zebco/Langley spinners, 6 of the at the end, were made from 1962 to 1970 or 71, maybe. These reels sold in 1963 for: 777- $12.95; 822- $17.95; 830- $24.95; 860- $29.95; and the 870 was $34.95 and by 1969 the only one that was raised was the 777 raised to $14.95. The 850 was introduced at $29.95 and stayed that price till the end. Q: I owned 100 shares of AT&T stock -- for which I paid $70 per share -- before the company divested the Baby Bells in 1984. There have been other spin-offs since, such as Lucent Technologies and. Kassu ¦ We love hipsters. Get onto the Welcome Package for four Bonuses reaching up to $1,500 + 300 Free Spins. Play on over 1,300 games!.

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28 TV reboots, remakes, and spin-offs that are in the works. Most of the original cast of the hit HBO series is returning. Plenty of iconic TV shows are set to be remade or rebooted in the coming years. Films, including "Clueless" and "Dune," are also getting rebooted or remade into TV shows. "Sex and the City" is getting a revival with much of.

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The mid-1980s was marked by the influence of rock music, with the release of such albums as King of Rock and Licensed to Ill. Heavy usage of the new generation of drum machines such as the Oberheim DMX and Roland 808 models was a characteristic of many 1980s songs. To this day the 808 kickdrum is traditionally used by hip hop producers. At the time 'Cheers' ended, how many children did Carla have? 8. When the show started she had 4. She had the fifth baby in the second season, the sixth in the third season and then twins in the seventh season.... 'Knots Landing' was a spin-off of what show? 'Dallas'.... 1980's TV Characters Average 2. 1980s TV Cities Average 3. 1980s TV. How many spins is a 1260? The 1260 is a skateboarding trick, performed on a mega ramp, in which the skateboarder makes three-and-half revolutions (1260 degrees of rotation) while airborne. It was first completed successfully on a mega ramp in August 2019 by American skateboarder Mitchie Brusco,.

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J.B. Spins Jazz, film, and improvised culture. Monday, July 04, 2022.... Patty Smythe performing on American Bandstand, which is another blast from the 1980’s past.). The most valuable vinyl record of all time is John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s “Double Fantasy” album from 1980. It sold for over $400,000 in 1999, but the only one worth this much is the one signed by John Lennon back in 1980. John signed it on December 8 th for Mark David Chapman, who returned five hours later and killed the former Beatle. Figure skating, sport in which ice skaters, singly or in pairs, perform freestyle movements of jumps, spins, lifts, and footwork in a graceful manner. Its name derives from the patterns (or figures) skaters make on the ice, an element that was a major part of the sport until recently. There are various kinds of figure skating, including freestyle, pairs, ice dance, and synchronized team.

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notesonfilm1 · 4 years

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Burt Lancaster got his contract with Hal B. Wallis at Paramount on the basis of a test directed by Byron Haskin with Wendell Corey and Lizabeth Scott for Desert Fury. Lucky for him, the film was not ready to shoot for another six months and he was able to fit in Robert Siodmak’s The Killers(1946) for producer Mark Hallinger at Universal beforehand. Desert Fury started shooting two weeks before the release of The Killers but there were already whisperings of Lancaster as a big new star, and the whisperings were so loud that Hallinger gave him first billing and a big publicity build-up rather than the little ‘and introducing….’ title at the end of the credits that was then typical, and is indeed the billing offered Wendell Corey in Desert Fury as you can see in the poster above. Before Desert Fury started shooting, Hal Wallis knew he had a big fat star on his hands and that his part had to be beefed up so as to capitalise on it.

By the time the film was released on September 24th, 1947,, Burt Lancaster was the biggest star in the film. The Killers hit screens on the 29th of August 1946. As Kate Buford writes, Ít was an extraordinary debut for a complete unknown. Overnight he was a star with a meteoric rise ¨faster than Gable´s, Garbo´s or Lana Turner,¨as Cosmopolitan said years later (Buford, loc 1260). In New York the movie, ‘played twenty-four hours a day at the Winter Garden theatre, ‘where over 120,000 picture-goers filled the 1,300 seat theatre in the first two weeks, figures Variety called “unbelievably sensational.”‘ Brute Force was the fourth film Lancaster made, after I Walk Alone, but it was the second to be released, on June 30th 1947. According to Kate Buford, it too ‘set set first-week records at movie houses across the country’ (loc 1412).

Lancaster’s status as a star is reflected in the lobby card and poster above, where in spite of being billed third, what´s being sold is what Burt Lancaster already represented, the publicity materials giving a false impression that he is much more central to the narrative than is in fact the case. His image dominates in both, and even the tag lines are attributed to him: ‘I got a memory for faces…killer´s faces…Get away from my girl…and get going’, is the tagline in the lobby card. The text on the poster reads, ´Two men wanted her love…the third wanted her life.

In the ad below, he´s billed second, as ´the sensation of The Killers, Dynamite with the fuse lit’

When trying to recapture a past moment in relation to cinema, it´s often useful to look at trailers and other paratextual publicity materials. Trailers hold and try to disseminate the film´s promise to viewers. Of course, its purpose is to sell, to dramatise its attractions so that viewers will go see it. And of course, they often lie, dramatising not what is but what they hope will sell. That said, those promises, lies and hopes are often very revealing.

youtube

As you can see above, the trailer is selling melodrama — violent passions — in a magnificent natural setting filmed in Technicolor. Burt Lancaster’s name is only mentioned 39 second into the 1.41 trailer, after Lizabeth Scott with her strangeness and her defiance of convention and after John Hodiak with his secrets and coiled snakeyness. And Lancaster’s introduced as ‘hammer fisted’ Tom Hanson, erroneously giving the impression that this will be an action film. But note too that by the end of the trailer, Lancaster is given top billing.

According to Kate Buford, in Burt Lancaster: An American Life, Lancaster thought ‘Desert Fury would not have lunched anybody’, later ‘dismissing it as having ‘starred a station wagon’ (loc 1157). The film is really a series of triangles: Eddie (John Hodiak) and Tom (Burt Lancaster) are both in love with Paula (Lizabeth Scott), Fritzy (Mary Astor) has already had an affair with Tom who is currently pursuing an affair with her daughter Paula, Paula and Johnny (Wendell Corey) are both in love with Eddie etc. I have made a not-quite-video essay that nonetheless well illustrates the Johnny-Eddie-Paula triangle, surely one of the queerest of the classic period, which can be seen here:

Tom is really a fifth wheel in the narrative. But by the time the film started shooting, Burt Lancaster was already the biggest star in it. His part was beefed up to take his new status into account, scenes were added, According to Gary Fishgall, the film was based on a 1945 novel, Desert Town by Ramona Stewart, and ‘ Lancaster’s role was an amalgam of two of the novel’s characters: the embittered, sadistic deputy sheriff, Tom Hansen, and a likeable highway patrolman named Luke Sheridan. Neither character was romantically linked to Paula (p.55). But in the film, he ends up with Lizabeth Scott at the end. All these additions probably contributed to the film seeming so structurally disjointed.

In Desert Fury Tom, a former rodeo rider, just hangs around waiting for Paula to get wise to Eddie, leaving her enough rope to act freely, as he does with colts when taming them, but not enough so that she hangs herself, or so he thinks. Really, he’s extraneous. He gets to walk into the sunset with Paula at the end of the film but the film really ends once Paula and Fritzy kiss, on the lips. He certainly doesn’t get much to do during it, except for a couple of great scenes where Fritzy tries to buy him into marrying her daughter (above) and another bit of banter when she thinks he’s come to accept her offer (below). Mary Astor steals both scenes. In fact she steals everything. Every time she appears, her wit, weariness, intelligence, the intensity of her love for her daughter — she lifts the film to a level it probably doesn’t deserve to be in. But Lancaster is good. These are the only scenes in the film where he looks like he’s enjoying himself.

Tom is the closest the film has to a ´normal character’. Indeed, aside from the character he plays in All My Sons (1948) this is the closest he’d come to such a type during the whole of his period in film noir in the late 40s and which includes all of his films up to The Flame and the Arrow in 1950. Even in Variety Girl, which is an all-star comedy where he and Lizabeth Scott spoof the hardboiled characters they’re associated with, the surprise is that they’ve already created personas to spoof in such a short time (see below).

According to Fishgall, ‘Lancaster –billed third before the film’s title — acquitted himself well in the essentially thankless other man’ role. Still, if Desert Fury had marked his screen debut as originally planned, it is unlikely that he would have achieved stardom quite so quickly. Not only did the film lack the stylish impact of The Killers, but so did the actor. Without the smouldering intensity of the Swede and his first pictures’ moody black and white photography, he appeared to be more of a regular fellow, and guy-next-door types rarely become overnight sensations’ (p. 67).

In Desert Fury we’re told that unlike the drugstore cowboys who are now criticising him, Tom used to be the best rodeo rider there was but a while back, whilst wrestling a steer, he got thrown off and is now all busted up inside. Being ‘busted up inside’ is what all the characters Burt Lancaster plays in the late ’40s have in common. He thinks of returning to the rodeo all the time but knows he can never be as good. He used to be a champ, now all he can hope for is to be second best. He knows he ‘ain’t got what it takes anymore’. He’s in love with Paula and she knows it. But she doesn’t know what she wants. He think he does: ‘you’re looking for what I used to get when I rode in the rodeo. The kick of having people say “that’s a mighty special person” I’d like to get that kick again. Maybe I can get it with just one person saying it’. He will, but he’ll have to wait until the end of the movie.

But even in this, Lancaster doesn´t play entirely nicey-poo, true-blue, throughout, and his Tom is given moments of wanton bullying and cruelty where he gets to abuse Eddie just because he’s a cop and wants to. And it´s interesting that it´s that moment, which jives so well with the ´brute force´Lancaster was already known for, and which would attach itself to his persona for many a year, that is the one chosen for the trailer.

According to Robyn Karney, in Burt Lancaster: A Singular Man, ‘As the straightforward moral law officer in a small Arizona town who rescues the object of his affections from the dangerous clutches of a murderous professional gambler, Burt had little to do other than look strong, handsome and reliable. Despite Wallis’ much vaunted rewrites, the role of the Sheriff Tom Hanson remained stubbornly secondary and uninteresting, with the limelight focused on John Hodiak as the villain, fellow contract players Elizabeth Scott and Wendell Corey’ (p.31).

I mainly agree with Robyn Karney except for four points, two textual and stated above: the first is that even in this Lancaster is playing a failure, someone once a somebody that people talked about but now all busted up inside; the second is that that element of being ´busted up inside´leads to a longing that gets displaced onto Paula. If the rodeo is what made feel alive and gave him a reason to live before his accident, now it´s Paula, and the idea that she might also be an unobtainable goal leads to his outbursts of unprovoked violence towards the rival for his affections, Eddie (John Hodiak).

The other two points of interest are extra textual. Desert Fury is gloriously filmed by Charles Lang. A few years later, in Rope of Fury, Lang would film Lancaster as a beauty queen: eyelashes, shadows and smoke, lips and hair (see below):

Here, even with his pre-stardom teeth and his bird´s nest of a hairdo, Lancaster sets the prototype for the Malboro Man:

He looks good in technicolour, and Lang brings out the blue of his eyes:

More importantly, the film visualises him, for the first time, as Wester Hero, a genre that would become a mainstay of his career from Vengeance Valley (1951) right through Ulzana´s Raid (1972) and even onto Cattle Annie and Little Britches (1981):

Desert Fury was not well reviewed. According to the Daily Herald ‘The acting is first-class. But except for Mr. Lancaster as a speed cop, the characters in the Arizona town with their lavish clothes and luxury roadsters, are contemptible to the point of being more than slightly nauseating’ (cited in Hunter p. 27),

The Monthly Film Bulletin labelled the film a western melodrama, claiming, surprisingly, that ‘The vivid technicolor and grand stretches of burning Arizona desert give a certain air of reality to the film’. Hard for us to see this thrillingly melodramatic film, lurid, in every aspect, evaluated in the light of realism. The MFB continued with, ´This reality is however counteracted by the way in which the sharply defined, but extremely unnatural characters act. Everything is over dramatised, and the title is a mystery in that the desert is comparatively peaceful compared with the way the human beings behaved…Lizabeth Scott is suitably beautiful as Paula and Burt Lancaster suitably tough as Tom. (Jan 1, 1947, p. 139)

Thus, we can see that on the evidence above, the film was badly reviewed, Time magazine going so far as to call it, ‘impossible to take with a straight face’ (Buford, loc1293). But Burt Lancaster´s performance was either exempted from the criticism or its faults where attributed to the film rather than to himself. More importantly still, the film was a hit, Burt Lancaster´s third in a row. Finally, as I´ve discussed elsewhere, the film is now considered by many a kind of camp classic, a leading example of noir in technicolor as well as arguably the gayest film ever produced in the classic period.

José Arroyo

Burt Lancaster in Desert Fury: Third Film, Fifth Wheel Burt Lancaster got his contract with Hal B. Wallis at Paramount on the basis of a test directed by Byron Haskin with Wendell Corey and Lizabeth Scott for…

#Burt Lancaster #Desert Fury #Lewis Allen #Lizabeth Scott #melodrama #noir #post-war cinema #post-war stardom #stardom #Third Film Fifth Wheel #westerns

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xplrvibes · 2 years

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Katrina and her friend calling themselves core 4 with SnC makes me side eye them. I just feel like thats them hinting at being in more videos and i don’t like that. I don’t like seeing all these extra people on their channel, i miss their duo content. It feels like SnC are trying to replace what they had with Jake and Corey with all these people especially the two girls and i don’t understand why. They should just start a xplr collective if thats the case and stop calling themselves a duo.

Disclaimer: any opinions expressed in this ask and my answer are just that: OPINIONS. I am old and tired and wholly uninterested in drama of any kind.

To be fair, anon: they kind of are the Core 4, at least in their home lives. They hang out in some capacity all the time and consider each other besties (as the kids would say). It's a foregone conclusion that they will continue to film together sometimes, but I'm also sure they do truly see themselves as the Core 4 in their own private lives. Nothing wrong with that.

As far as their duo channel goes- I agree, and this has been an issue since 2019. I don't know what happened between the xplr days and now, but snc seem to have almost developed a complex about being alone in a video on their channel. If you really stop and think about it, they have not done a video with just the two of them since early 2019. We're in 2022 now. That's three years of constant collabing.

Part of me thinks they've got such low self esteem that they really think they couldn't carry a successful video without having others around to bounce off of, and to keep things "fresh." Anothrr part of me thinks that, for as much as they love each other, snc might have realized that the key to a successful duoship is to have a buffer around whenever possible, to keep them from constantly having to rely solely on each other (and thus eventually annoying the ever loving shit out of each other). Still another part of me thinks they just don't like to be alone for whatever reason- strength in numbers and all that.

Whatever the reason, it really has gotten old over the years. I was over it back in the Jake and Corey days, tbh, so imagine how exhausted I am now, lol.

Now, that's not to say I dislike the people they film with, because I don't. I don't mind the girls, Nate, Seth, Josh, Faze Rug, etc. The only one I actually don't like as a person is Amanda. That being said, I don't really need for there to constantly be third and fourth and fifth wheels in every snc video. I miss the simplicity of their dynamic when it was just them two. I'd like to see that back someday, at least on occasion.

Also, to your point about an xplr collective: that sounds extremely close to another collective we all used to watch back in the day. They also had a revolving door of guest stars on a channel that focused on travel and lifestyle content. Hell, that channel even has a four letter name, just like XPLR would.

And the collective thing really didn't work out all that well for that other channel, so I'd tread carefully before heading too far down that path, if I were snc.

#asks

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 2/10 (Multi) - Juno

Chapter summary: It’s cake week, and the bakers have to deal with a fruity signature, a tangy technical, and a showstopper that should be child’s play. Surely nothing can go wrong. Meanwhile, Aurora is looking forward to cake week, and not just to see Tayce again, and Asttina has an admirer of her own.

A/N: Thank you for your support so far on this fic!! I hope you enjoy the second part of this.

WEEK 2: CAKE WEEK

Aurora knew cakes like the back of her hand.

Cake had been her gateway into baking as a teenager. Whenever she’d had a bad day at school, she could spend a couple of quid at the local Aldi on some filling ingredients, bring them home, find her nan’s flour, and bake them into something beautiful, something that everyone would love. Baking a cake would always be available to her to ground her, and to remind her that pouring positivity into things made them seem light as air.

Arriving for filming the second week was nowhere near as daunting as the first. Biscuit week had been a little bit of a concern for Aurora, whose biscuits tended to crumble as soon as she looked at them, but she forced herself not to think about it any more, pushing it to the past where it belonged. She came in now, her cake recipes in her head and on her paper, feeling better than she had all of last week.

I survived biscuit week. But I can really excel in cake week! This is exactly what I know. I can make a Vicky sponge in my sleep with one hand behind my back and a sleep paralysis demon on my chest. It’s mine to win.

As Pip had gone home at the end of the last episode, Aurora’s side of the desks had all been shuffled up by one person to account for that. Her side of the room now had Asttina at the front, then Ginny, Lawrence, Ellie, and finally Aurora on the fifth bench instead of the back.

Instead of being opposite Tayce, she was opposite Cherry this time. Their side was unchanged - Bimini at the front, then Joe, Tia, Veronica, Cherry, and Tayce at the back. Cherry’s pillar-box red KitchenAid gleamed in the sunlight - it was starting to get sunny again - and Aurora saw that her own was in similar condition, the turquoise colour as bright as if it was the first week again. Good as new.

She managed to calm her breathing, but her fingers still drummed on the workbench, and she couldn’t stop them for more than a few seconds.

I can do this. I can do this.

——

Signature: Fruit Cake

“For your Signatures this week,” Matt began, “the judges would like you to bake a fruit cake. Any fruit is allowed - “

“ - but no vegetables. We can’t have vegetables sneaking into the tent disguised as a fruit.”

“Maybe a tomato.”

“Matt, a tomato is technically a fruit, even if no one wants tomato cake.”

Aurora giggled at Matt and Noel’s back-and-forth, but really, she wanted to get on with her bake. All her baking knowledge felt like it had lodged herself at the very front of her mind, and any slight distraction could let it tumble back down again into the abyss, lost forever - or at least until the baking time was over.

When they finally announced “BAKE!” Aurora dove into her bag to grab her ingredients. Flour, butter, sugar, eggs. Flour, butter, sugar, eggs.

“What are you baking?” Ellie didn’t even last a minute this week before she had turned round to talk to Aurora, but she kind of wished she wouldn’t, from the amount she chatted last week after getting over her initial shyness. Aurora was trying to concentrate; she had to pour her whole focus into this, or it just wouldn’t taste good.

“Apple cake,” she said simply, wondering if Ellie would take the hint.

“Oh. I’m making rhubarb and custard!” Evidently Ellie hadn’t, and Aurora bit her tongue behind her forced smile. “That was my favourite when I was a kid, did you have lots of rhubarb and custard as well? This one time me and my brother …”

“Have you got nothing better to do than prattle on to Aurora?” Lawrence’s voice from the bench in front of them was even louder than Ellie’s, her hands on her hips as she swooped in to save the day, an unconventional Wonder Woman. “She’s trying to bake a cake, and so should you!”

“I am baking a cake -“

Ellie spun back to face Lawrence, and Aurora took the opportunity to make a quick getaway to the tea tent for a break. From her experience being behind Ellie last week, the woman could talk all day, and that wasn’t what Aurora needed, much as she had warmed to her.

By the time she’d poured herself a fresh brew, Ellie and Lawrence were both at Lawrence’s desk, apoplectic with laughter, faces and hands covered in flour, while the cameras had sprinted down to record this golden television moment.

Viewers tune in for baking and get a flour fight. And that’s why the nation loves this show.

——

“I’m gonna have to start again!”

That phrase was starting to sound like a broken record from Tia’s desk, on the other side. The woman might not normally be a disaster in the kitchen, but so far they’d done four challenges, and this was the third time she’d announced she was restarting. Her normally orange KitchenAid was splattered deep purple from the blackberries she’d somehow managed to spray all over the side in an effort to make jam. Some of it had even gone into the cake mixture, and she was running her fingers through her curly hair, turning to Veronica on the bench behind her and laughing dryly.

“What have you done?” Veronica’s tone always softened when Tia talked to her. That was something Aurora had already noticed, and it was … interesting, to say the least.

“Messed up my cake mix,” Tia shook her head, still laughing. “How long do we have left?”

Veronica looked at one of the five timers she’d set up. “An hour, twenty three minutes, and fifteen seconds - fourteen - thirteen -“

“Okay, okay!” Tia waved her hand. “Do you - d’you think I have time?”

“If you’re really precise,” Veronica nodded grimly, “then you should just about do it. You’ve done the jam, you’ve done the icing … you just have to bung the cakes into the freezer straight away so they have enough time to cool.”

“Oh, good.” Tia sighed. “Let’s hope I don’t mess it up again! Thanks, Vee.”

Veronica reserved her quota of smiles for Tia alone, so it seemed, because this smile was the first real one any of them had seen from Veronica. Nervous, pinched, but there it was all the same.

“Yeah,” Aurora called over to them, hoping to join in, “thanks Vee, and can you make it for Tia if she messes up the jam again?”

She’d meant it as a joke, good-natured, to try to brighten the anxiety forming a cloud between the two of them. It had the desired effect on Tia, whose expression slackened into an ironic grin; but Veronica’s face immediately became stony, her eyes surprisingly cold as she glared at Aurora, before turning back to her KitchenAid.

“It’s just a joke -”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t very funny.” Veronica snapped. “It’s not very nice to comment on things like that. Oh great - now I’ve over-weighed the sugar. Thanks, Aurora.”

Aurora opened her mouth to protest - Veronica’s implication felt unfair - but she was taken aback by the sound of gentle, muffled laughter; Tayce was still behind Cherry, a hand over her mouth, giggling to herself.

——

“I was laughing at Veronica! Blaming you for weighing out her own sugar wrong!” Tayce exclaimed as Aurora chewed her nail during the break before Technical.

“Maybe I went too far … maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“She’s just too sensitive.” Tayce flipped her hair behind her back. “Everyone could see you were just joking! Tia saw the funny side, and I bet Veronica’s probably already forgotten it. Forgive and forget, right? It’s just baking! It’s not all that serious!”

“Yeah but …” Aurora trailed off, looking over at the two of them, by the door to the outside, hovering as if trying to decide to go out.

Tayce chuckled. “And Tia’s got a few disasters under her belt, hasn’t she? The wagon wheels last week where all the chocolate melted? Her Signature this week? It’s only week two!”

Aurora opened her mouth, but closed it again.

This is how it all starts. One misunderstood joke, and suddenly I’m an evil bitch.

Cakes were meant to calm her, but suddenly cakes were linked to this show, and now intertwined with making another contestant upset. A golden opportunity to shed her still-lingering hometown reputation as a Bad Girl; scuppered before the end of the second week.

I may as well just get eliminated now.

Aurora broke away from Tayce to go to the table of cakes, where everyone’s was laid out in a row. Ginny and Bimini were standing there, Ginny piling a slice of Tia’s cake - which she’d called “Bananadrama cake” - on top of Bimini’s vegan orange cake, but both turned when Aurora approached.

“Hey!” Bimini said, grabbing her shoulder. “That apple cake you made, with the toffee apples on the top? That looked amazing. If it was vegan I’m sure I’d love it, but Gin said it was good!”

“It was a treat for the taste buds, Aurora, an absolute treat,” Ginny nodded, their eyes crinkling up kindly.

“Congratulations on getting the first Hollywood handshake, Ginny!” Aurora smiled mechanically, but Ginny’s smile spread from ear to ear. “I bet you’re never gonna wash your right hand ever again!”

“Definitely not,” Ginny nodded, holding up their right hand to their face and wiggling their fingers. “Not after I broke the seal on the Hollywood Handshakes, first one of the season! I hope they’re all talking about it on Twitter by now -“

“Will make a change from them talking about your obsession with lemons,” Bimini nudged them, causing Ginny to glare at them with mock disgust.

“Cheeky. My lemon drizzle Signature is a labour of love. You have no idea how long I spent perfecting that recipe, Bimini Bon Appetit.”

“You know what, Gin? I believe you.”

“Is there any of your lemon drizzle left?” Aurora asked.

“Yes! Fancy a sloooice?” Ginny yelled the last word in the same way she’d yelled it when she’d initially presented it to the judges.

“Erm, yeah I do!” Aurora grabbed the knife to cut herself a piece of Ginny’s handshake-worthy lemon drizzle cake, wondering if there was nothing that Ginny wouldn’t put lemon into if given the chance. Bimini stroked Ginny’s bag, putting their plate down.

“I love your bag, where did you manage to find a bag with the non-binary flag colours on it? I kept meaning to ask you last week, I saw it and I immediately went ‘Yes, another enby, the enby gods have smiled down on me’ and I wanted to know where you got that bag so I could get one of my own -“

“Oh, I didn’t buy it, bab, I crocheted it! I couldn’t find one that I liked so I had to make one, and it’s so good for finding other enbies out in the wild, it’s like a code, isn’t it!”

“Yeah definitely - look, if you crochet a lot, would you fancy making me a scarf with enby flag colours? I can pay you or give you bakes or something -“

“Oh Bimini Bab, don’t worry about that - I can do you one for next weekend if you want -“

Aurora decided to leave them to it, looking around the room for someone to talk to. Tayce was with Cherry and Joe again, and Tia and Veronica had been joined by Asttina, the three of them comparing something on their phones. Ellie was nowhere to be seen, which was a shame as Aurora was starting to feel a bond with her more than anyone else in the room.

But is that even real in itself?

That thought persisted, no matter how hard Aurora tried to quash it.

Everything’s just really distorted right now.

The actual filming of the episodes was being done on Saturdays and Sundays, and would be every weekend from now until the end of June, so it meant that they would all go back to their normal daily lives while the weeks were going on; back to work, back to friends and family, back to their routine.

It was as if they left the real world into a fantasy land for two days a week, a frenetic rollercoaster of baking and emotions, pressure and strangers, before being dropped back into the mundane weekday world, a reality where they were forbidden to disclose how they were all doing, or what they were all doing, every weekend.

There were eleven of them left on the competition, and it was only the second weekend of them filming so far. They’d known each other for just over a week, and spent almost three total days in each others’ pockets, surrounded by cameras and production crew and editors. But it was virtually impossible to get to know everyone here, to really know them, hard to read their intentions while filming was happening, because it was such a short but busy time they all had together. Because no matter how much they all smiled, how much they all laughed together - they were all here for one reason, and that was for themselves, to win.

That made the room feel still lonelier to Aurora, even filled with eleven people.

Take Ellie for instance. Ellie was always making conversation, and Aurora hoped they’d bonded; but then again Ellie was a trainee hairdresser, and it was probably part of her job to be able to chat. Tayce, her charming accent and witty smile aside, gave nothing away, and as much as Aurora’s stomach leapt somersaults when she was around her, Tayce was a complete mystery.

Looking around the room at everyone pairing off, the community here was more important than ever. It was a long filming schedule for just ten episodes, and the NDAs they’d all had to sign bound them together, keeping a juicy secret from the outside world.

At the same time, it was surreal.

Every word was emotive. Every sensation was deeper than normal. Every movement was significant …

But until the series aired on Channel 4, everything here was only as tangible as a dream.

——

Technical: 12 Jaffa Cakes

Jaffa Cakes? Fucking Jaffa Cakes?

Sure, Aurora had eaten them for years, but baking them? As far as Aurora was concerned, Jaffa Cakes were just a thing that came in a box, that probably grew on trees. The concept of baking them felt alien.

Focus. Calm.

But the basic instructions from Prue’s recipe might have been in Latin for all Aurora knew. And Aurora sure as hell didn’t know Latin.

She took less time than last week annotating, instead getting to work setting up the bain marie in a saucepan to melt the chocolate, tossing cake ingredients into the KitchenAid as she went, ignoring the crash as Joe’s baking tray went flying onto the next bench, where Ginny was glaring at her as she dramatically rolled her eyes and went to pick it back up.

She looked at the main timer she used. Twenty minutes had gone, which meant she was slightly ahead of her annotated schedule.

So far, so good.

But the issue came when the cake sponges were cooling.

“Aurora!” Ellie’s whisper was frantic as she turned to her bench, the panic in her voice making it impossible to ignore. “I’ll give you a can of my Monster if you tell me which way up these sponges are meant to be!”

As Aurora met her eyes, all memory of what a Jaffa Cake looked like evaporated, fizzing and floating away like steam.

Shit. She’s got a point. Which way up do they go?

She knew that one side was covered in chocolate and the marmalade jelly circles they’d all made, but which side?

“I don’t know, do I!” Aurora sighed, clutching her hair. “God, you just said that and now I can’t remember what a Jaffa Cake looks like and I’ve been eating them from the packets for years!”

“Same here!” Ellie muttered.

Aurora caught sight of Tayce’s head jerking up out of the corner of her eye, curiously watching them both, but she forced herself to concentrate on the matter at hand.

“If we do it this way,” Ellie turned one of the sponges she’d made upside down, “there’s less room for the jelly, but the discs fit perfectly, and there’s more room for the chocolate, is that right?”

“Uhm,” Aurora murmured, wracking her brains. “I think - maybe, yeah - you’re right I think …”

Across the room, she saw Cherry, who had already turned hers upside down and was already halfway through putting the chocolate and marmalade jelly on them. Joe, a few rows in front of her, was also turning hers over and over, frowning.

But as Ellie turned her cake again, the right way up, Aurora could practically see a lightbulb light in her head; her eyes widening and her mouth dropping in realisation.

“No! It’s the right way up! Because it’s a flat tray! For the jelly! And the chocolate kind of spreads to the edges, doesn’t it? Like, over the sponge too. Right? Please tell me I’m right, Rory,” Ellie pleaded.

Aurora wasn’t sure what to think. “I’m not sure now. Some people are doing them upside down, and they look …”

“No, I’m sure I’m right,” Ellie nodded, grimly determined suddenly. “Trust me on this. They’re meant to be the right way up.” She nodded again, putting the baking tray and the sponge down again. “Here, have a Monster.”

Aurora frowned as she took it. “Mango Loco?”

“Of course! What else?”

The way Ellie was looking at her, she might have sprouted another head. Aurora opened the can and took a swig, praying to the Monster gods that Ellie wasn’t trying to trick her and that the energy drink would give her the final push.

——

“Thank you!”

Aurora had taken half a step into Carr Hall after the Technical challenge winner’s interview was over, only to be engulfed by Hurricane Ellie, all six feet of her, dragged into a very fluffy pink hug against the fake fur of the jacket she wore.

She shook Ellie off, laughing. “Oh, it’s alright love, you’re the one who figured it out without me, don’t worry - “

“I was so nervous for Technical!” Ellie’s voice was so loud that Aurora winced in discomfort. “I came eleventh last week! And now I’m third! I could cry! But you - God, you came top! Oh god I’m sorry! Congratulations on coming top!”

Aurora couldn’t hold back the grin. She had to admit, she felt pretty smug about coming top in the second Technical challenge, especially having been seventh the previous week. It just showed that she had lots to offer to the show and the judges. Her heart was hammering, although whether that was with elation or electrolytes, she was uncertain.

“Well done, Aurora.” She turned to face Asttina’s cool smile and steady gaze, accepting the handshake she offered. “Your Jaffa Cakes looked amazing. Really nice one. I can’t wait to try one.”

Aurora just returned her smile. Something about Asttina made her lose her tongue, maybe the formal, business-like way she went about her bakes, or her polite, reserved manner of speech. Aurora didn’t feel that she knew much about her yet - not enough to fill in the gaps in her head about Asttina.

“Congratulations, bab,” Ginny sidled up to her next, giving her a grin. Bimini followed them, holding the narrow bottle of limoncello that Ginny had been liberally adding to their lemon drizzle cake earlier, both of them swigging from it.

“Thanks Gin!”

“Nice one, Aurora,” Tia was next, her easy smile matching her eyes as she rubbed Aurora’s shoulder. “Your Signature was so good too, you deserved to get top in Technical this week!”

And Aurora immediately felt another twinge of guilt for her words earlier. Tia radiated sincerity, probably the only person in the room whose whole demeanour was relaxed and genuine. A lump rose in her throat and Aurora found her words stuck at it.

She just nodded, smiling, before she took the opportunity to move out the way to the cake table, wondering if she fancied another slooice of Ginny’s handshake-winning lemon drizzle cake before it was all gone, when she felt long cool fingers at her shoulder and turned to meet Tayce’s brown eyes.

“Good job in Technical today,” she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips.

Tayce’s low voice, and that accent, started off the butterflies in Aurora’s stomach once more, along with a tingling dancing up her spine. Last week it had been a pleasant addition to being here, having such a stunning contestant opposite her, but this week, Aurora found that the nearer Tayce was to her, the less Aurora was able to form coherent words.

“Thanks,” she heard herself say after what seemed like an eternity of a pause.

“Did much better than me. Seventh! Like we switched positions, eh?”

“Seems like it!” Aurora’s face was getting warmer and warmer, and she resumed prayer to the Monster gods that she wasn’t blushing -

“Anyway. Congratulations, A’Whora.”

“A’Whora! Bloody cheek!” Aurora slapped her playfully on the arm, and Tayce smiled as she wandered away, leaving Aurora to join Bimini and Ginny, as they curled up on the sofa together.

“You know who I’m enjoying seeing here every week?” Ginny muttered, dropping their voice to ensure no one else overheard.

“Who?”

“Asttina.” Ginny rested their chin in their hands, elbows on their knees as they gazed wistfully around the room.

Aurora followed their gaze to Asttina, who was chatting to Ellie, a hand on her forearm.

“I don’t really know much about Asttina,” Aurora admitted in a soft voice. “She hasn’t really spoken to me much yet, and she just seems kind of … aloof.”

But Ginny shook their head. “I’ve met her before at charity bakes in Birmingham. She does a lot of these kinds of charity bake offs, you have to put on a certain persona for that - and yeah, maybe she’d brought it to the contest here a bit - but honestly, once you get past that, she’s lovely.”

Asttina was pulling Ellie over to Tia and Veronica on the other side of the room, her smile genuine and her eyes crinkling at the corners, as happy as Aurora had seen her yet.

“Charity bakes? For contests and stuff?” Aurora asked.

“Sometimes. Have you seen her Instagram? I was looking at her page before we even all came to the show, for inspiration for something for my birthday - not that I enjoy getting older but we all enjoy cake! And she made one with some weird flavour combo - can’t remember - and I messaged her about it, and she just came back with it fell to bits after this photo, give it a miss - and I couldn’t stop laughing!”

“What kinds of things does she bake?” Bimini asked.

“All sorts, bab - anything you could ask for and more. But the flavours she was using! Oh my days - the things she’s tried and made work - she’s a genius, I’ll tell you that. She’s gonna go to the end.”

“Yeah,” Bimini murmured, their eyes hooked on Asttina as she crossed the room to the table, looking over the Jaffa Cakes for one to try. “Yeah, hopefully.”

Aurora looked from Asttina to Bimini, their chin cupped in their hand, not tearing their eyes away from Asttina, smiling a soft smile.

“Bimini,” Aurora said, but Bimini didn’t look away.

“Bim!” She nudged them, and Bimini blinked, evidently coming back into the room from cloud nine.

“Yeah - yeah, I know.”

Ginny raised their eyebrows, letting out a low whistle. “Are we gonna have our first Bake Off romance on the cards? Sorry, second? Can’t forget Blu and Cheryl last year.”

“Nah, not likely.” Bimini shook their head. “Not on the show anyway. Too much like hard work, innit, trying to balance getting to ask someone out with baking.”

“So, like, how many of us here are queer?” Aurora asked. “Do you know?”

“No,” Ginny shook their head, “but from what I’ve heard so far, a fair few - I’m pan, you’re a lesbian aren’t you Aurora? I’ve seen your pin - and I know Asttina has the bi flag on her instagram page, Tia and Veronica obviously like women as well -“

“What about Tayce, Gin?” Bimini asked slyly. “I think that’s what Aurora wanted to know.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Aurora held her hand up, trying to get them off Tayce. “What do you mean, Tia and Veronica obviously like women as well … what have I missed?”

Ginny pursed their lips, and Bimini chuckled.

“Let’s just say they’re getting pretty close.”

——

Showstopper: A children’s dream birthday cake with at least two different sponge flavours and three layers.

Aurora wasn’t going to let anyone stop her today. The Star Baker title and the cake-shaped badge was hers for the winning. Top in Technical, good critiques in Signature - she knew the judges would be talking about her as one of the top bakers in line for Star Baker this week.

She cast her gaze round the room, wondering who else was in line.

Veronica, for sure. She’d come second in Technical for the second week in a row, and her Signature pineapple and coconut cake had been praised. Much as Aurora hated to admit, Veronica was a great baker.

Ginny too, was probably in line for Star Baker, with their Hollywood Handshake from yesterday. They still looked smug, running a hand through their yellow hair and giggling to themselves.

It was probably between the three of them to win.

But as she carried on around the room Aurora’s eyes narrowed pensively as they fell on Ellie, right in front of her. She’d come third in Technical, and the rhubarb and custard cake had … actually had pretty good feedback as well.

Maybe it’s a four-horse race. Ellie’s a bit of a dark horse though.

“Have fun with the bake today,” Prue told them all, the familiar twinkle in her eye as she spoke. “Give us plenty of flavours and let your imaginations run wild. Remember, the bake has to be worth the calories.”

Veronica’s mouth was set in a thin line as she placed all her cake tins and containers in a line, licking her lips as she concentrated on setting all five stopwatches on her bench. Tia, by contrast in front of her, was piling her ingredients onto the workbench, muttering loudly to herself and causing the cameramen to run to her side and film her as she talked nonsense as usual.

It was an uneventful start. But something was bound to happen, and when Cherry passed Aurora’s workbench, she hovered, motioning pointedly with her gaze outside towards the tea tent outside; and Aurora turned off her KitchenAid for a second to follow Cherry over there and grab a mug as if to make tea.

“Joe’s pre-bought her fondant.”

“What?” Aurora put a hand to her mouth.

“I said to her - I was walking past her to get to Bimini’s workbench - and I saw her unrolling it. And I said, just jokingly, did you get that from Tesco’s, and get this - she leaned towards me,” Cherry mimicked Joe’s lean, putting a hand to the side of her mouth, “and she just whispered, ‘M&S’!”

“No!” Aurora’s eyes widened, her head shaking, but Cherry was nodding, licking her lips.

“I - well, I still am speechless!” Cherry’s eyes were alight, her glee as always seemingly awakened by gossip, but Aurora wasn’t sure what she’d do with this information. Was Cherry about to tell the judges? Should she do it instead? Was it any of their business at all?

Cherry didn’t give any clues away when they went back to the tent either, sipping her tea, greeted by the sound of Tia announcing she had to start again. Veronica was running over to see what she’d done now, probably to try to fix it again.

But Aurora had her own issues. The cake mix, still in the KitchenAid, had flattened decidedly while she had been away.

She turned the whisk on, but she could not persuade the mixture to aerate, no matter how hard she whisked.

“Fuck,” she muttered, angry tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “Am I gonna have to do a Tia?”

One more minute. It may still be salvageable, come on cake, come on -

After three more minutes of whisking, Aurora rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and took the bowl off the stand, emptying the mixture into the bin.

“You starting again?” That was Noel’s voice, and a cameraman beside her, and Aurora was temporarily blinded by Noel’s brightly-painted outfit, obviously his own design, bold patterns and neon colours.

“Yeah, gonna have to aren’t I? It went flat.”

“You’ve got this, alright?”

Noel’s smile and tone were light and airy, not really with any substance.

That was how Aurora wanted her cake, not her support.

She closed her eyes, allowed her breathing to settle, then leaned forwards, a lump forming in her throat as she gathered fresh ingredients and set back to work all over again on the cake mixture.

As the whisk was whirring for her second time, she glanced up in awe at Ellie’s which was just coming out of the oven, smelling divine; and over at Veronica’s, already partly formed out of a green grass stand. Aurora blinked back the tears, seeing her chances of becoming Star Baker this week starting to fade away.

She glanced at Tayce.

And although part of Aurora wanted nothing more than to look at Tayce, watch Tayce bake all day, listen to her speak all day, as the tingling feeling ran down her spine … another part of her was infuriated by how relaxed Tayce was, nonplussed by everything around her.

It was difficult to make head or tail of what Tayce was thinking. Right now, she was holding up a layer of cake, and slicing into it with a palette knife, trying to carve a shape; looking up only to grin at Noel as he approached her for some banter for the television.

Aurora wanted to go over and see what she was making, but she didn’t want to have to restart again, so she turned her eyes to the KitchenAid and tried to tune out everyone else in the room.

——

One thing no one had prepared any of the bakers for was that judging for the Showstoppers was terrifying.

Watching it on the telly made it look like everyone was judged in a single minute, and everything was smooth and light and relaxed. In reality, everyone stood there for a good five minutes each at least, feeling all eyes in the room on them from their fellow contestants as well as the judges, and with lifting and carrying times it meant they were all dead on their feet by the end.

Aurora was right at the end of the pack, being in the position she was in - on the right, at the back.

So she had to wait past everyone getting pulled up in order.

Bimini and Asttina, both on the front two rows, both getting good feedback on flavours but mediocre feedback on the aesthetic of their respective cakes. Joe was next, and Cherry’s news turned out to be true, with Joe openly admitting to the judges that her fondant was pre-bought from M&S.

Ellie gave an audible inhale.

“What’s up?” Aurora whispered as loudly as she could.

“You’re not meant to do that!” Ellie whispered back.

Ginny was told that while their lemon cake was delicious, doing a lime-flavoured layer was probably not a wise choice, and she needed to not do lemon every single time. Veronica and Lawrence were both praised, even though they’d made similar cakes in the shape of train sets, the second time they’d done a similar design to each other.

Ellie’s hand shook where it rested on Aurora’s workbench, as she stared glassy-eyed outside the clear panel of the tent. And even though Aurora tried to remind herself that this show was full of people who just wanted to win a competition, seeing Ellie’s fear made her chest ache. Aurora reached forward to rest a hand atop hers, and Ellie blinked, swallowing, still staring straight ahead.

“You’ll do great,” she whispered, and Ellie nodded stiffly, her hand quivering in Aurora’s.

Tia’s cake was next. The game of Operation which was starting to crumble and fall apart as Matt Lucas helped her to carry it to the table, was called the best lemon and poppy seed cake Prue had ever had.

When Ellie was called after that, and Aurora got a better look at her cake, she didn’t know why Ellie was worrying; she’d made a beautiful and intricate pink castle, complete with towers, detailed brick patterns, and a little portcullis; but when she got it to the judges table, the judges were sniggering quietly behind her.

“Me and my brother, we always had just one plain cake between us on our birthday, nothing to make it that personal for either of us, that way it was fair,” Ellie explained, cupping her elbows in her hands. “But if I’d not been a twin, this would have been my dream cake. A huge pink castle.”

Cherry’s eyes widened from the other side of the room, clapping a hand to her mouth; and Aurora finally spotted it. The pink towers with the purple rooftops, standing out from the rest of the cake …

They look a bit … questionable, Aurora thought.

By now everyone was sniggering to themselves, apart from Lawrence, whose face was in her hands; when she raised her head, Aurora could see she was trying not to laugh too.

Aurora chanced a glance at Tayce, finding that she wasn’t laughing much either, a cool indifference behind her eyes. But she wasn’t looking at Ellie. She was looking straight at Aurora herself, before turning her eyes away back to the front.

Tayce’s turn had come, and Tayce had presented the owl she’d made to be told that her bake was good, but her design wasn’t up to parr. And Aurora’s judging was as expected - she was praised on her buttercream, but she hadn’t left the sponges in long enough, worrying she was running short on time; so she’d removed them early to cool; and they’d come out a bit dense as a result.

That’s probably cost me the Star Baker badge. But I probably won’t be going home at least.

It was disappointing. Cakes were her forte, cakes were what she knew best.

But it doesn’t mean I’m a bad baker, she said firmly to herself. I just had a less-than-perfect bake. I am not my art.

She breathed out her worries, knowing there was nothing more she could do now that judging was over, and left the tent with the others to the outside area, where the chairs had been set up. It was still sunny, although clouds were drifting over and the early evening chill was starting to pinch in the air.

Aurora flopped down on the seat next to Tayce, sighing heavily.

“Mine was alright, I think,” she said, “and Paul loved my Italian meringue buttercream.”

Tayce nodded, but her expression remained the same; staring towards the tent, her eyes distant and pensive.

“I can’t believe that Joe actually told the judges that she’d bought the fondant from M&S! Do you think that’s true? If so - I mean, she won’t be staying until next week if she’s done that, will she?”

Tayce carried on nodding, her face flat, the distance between them growing with every second that passed.

Aurora sighed. “I don’t think I’ll get Star Baker this week though, even though I came top in Technical. They all loved Ellie’s cake, didn’t they?”

That was the first motion Aurora saw; Tayce’s jaw tensed for a split second, her eyes narrowing just a fraction as she continued her slow, rhythmic nodding.

“That cake was something else,” Aurora said dreamily, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

“Maybe you should talk to her about it, then.”

With that low, cool sentence, Tayce stood up and made her way towards Carr Hall, not even turning around to see Aurora’s confused expression growing more so with every step she took.

—-

Inside, the tent was still stiflingly hot as Noel announced Ellie as the shock winner. Ellie put her hands to her face, while Asttina, sitting on her right, wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her towards her for a gracious cuddle.

Matt had to announce the person leaving, but no one was surprised that Joe’s name was called, not even Joe herself. She stood from her position between Ginny and Bimini, both of them clutching one of her hands each, and gave her infamous cackle, blowing them all a kiss and leaving the tent behind to go to her exit interview.

“Well done, Els,” Aurora murmured, as Ellie bent down to hug her, wiping tears away from the corners of her eyes with her thumbs.

Over her shoulder, Aurora caught Tayce staring at her for a split second before she turned away, following Joe out of the tent, presumably back to Carr Hall to collect her things for the week ahead.

Those same thoughts from the previous day were running circles in her mind. She only saw Tayce at weekends, in a very enclosed environment, and although last week they’d exchanged some kind words, and Tayce had held her hand, did it mean they were bonding?

Ellie let Aurora go, moving to hug someone else, but Aurora carried on looking at the exit, trying to decipher what had made Tayce turn cool this week.

Her hand in Aurora’s had been more welcome than Aurora had expected last week, a faint thrill up her spine as she remembered it. But this week they’d barely spoken, and Aurora struggled to figure out why; until she heard Ellie’s laughter as she hugged Lawrence, who tilted her chin up to rest on her shoulder, pouring words of affirmation into Ellie’s ear.

Is - is Tayce really that annoyed? Because she didn’t win?

——

TEN BAKERS REMAIN

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debbiechanclub · 4 years

Text

Best Two Out of Three, Part 1

So this started out as anon request for a Chuck Taylor or Orange Cassidy fic, and with the help of @hotyeehawman it somehow morphed into a monster 26-part Adam Page and Kenny Omega fic, with a lot of other folks thrown in. So if you’re finding this for the first time, the good news is it’s complete. Enjoy!

Best Two Out of Three

Synopsis: Orange and Chuck both want their friend Alex to accompany them to the ring for their matches at Double or Nothing - so Alex devises a contest.

Part: 1/26

Pairings: None really in this chapter, but hints at Kenny Omega x OFC

Warnings: Alcohol use, some suggestive language

Word Count: 2,512

Find the rest of the fic here.

“Are you sure it’s cool if I come hang out with you guys?”

Alex sent Kris a look like she’d grown a second head. “Of course it’s cool. I adore Chuck, Trent, and James, but sometimes I need to hang out with another girl.”

They walked into the hotel elevator and Alex hit the button for the fifth floor. It was the night before AEW Double or Nothing 2020, and the Best Friends were having a little get-together in their rooms. It was a much-needed opportunity to cut loose and experience a little normalcy in the midst of the pandemic, and Alex in particular could use a few cold ones to take the edge off. She was still annoyed with Kenny for giving the match against Kris tomorrow night to Penelope Ford instead of her. She rolled her eyes as the elevator doors slid open with a ding. If he wasn’t over at the arena pre-filming the Stadium Stampede match with the rest of The Elite and The Inner Circle, she might have marched up to his room and given him a piece of her mind.

“So who all’s gonna be there?” Kris asked as they stepped off the elevator.

“The usual suspects,” Alex answered. “My knucklehead stablemates, Scorpio, Frankie, Jack, Austin, and you and me.”

“No Maxwell?”

She smirked. “I told him he could only come if he brought Michael, and then we’d be over the 10-person limit for social gatherings.”

She let out a loud laugh. “So you totally invited Michael behind his back, right?”

“I did,” she confirmed. “But he politely declined.”

They arrived at Alex and Chuck’s room, and she slid her key into the electronic lock. “I’m back with an alien and beer!” she proclaimed as she opened the door—but she got no response. Chuck and James were embroiled in a heated debate; well, about as heated as James, a.k.a. the one and only Orange Cassidy, could get.

“Dude! Why would she come out with you for the ladder match?” Chuck charged.

James’s face remained as stoic as ever. “Because she’s my friend.”

Chuck’s eyebrows arched high onto his forehead. “She’s literally my best friend!”

Ever so slightly, James cocked his head. “Penelope’s probably coming out with Kip for it,” he coolly pointed out.

“Penelope is Kip’s girlfriend!”

“And Alex is my friend who’s a girl.”

“Hey!” Alex interjected as she set the case of beer on the floor. Everyone turned to look at her. “I’m right here.”

“Oh, thank God,” Trent breathed. “You need to settle this. They’ve been arguing since you left.”

Her face contorted with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “About what?”

“About whether you should accompany Chuck and Trent to the ring for their match or Freshly Squeezed for his match tomorrow night,” Jack answered.

Alex blinked. “And why wouldn’t I just do both?”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Chuck argued.

James didn’t so much as blink. “What he said.”

Kris snorted under her breath. Alex sent her a look. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

“Seriously, please put us all out of our misery,” Frankie groaned. “And can I get one of those?” He didn’t wait for permission as he eagerly picked up the beer case and tore into it. But Alex couldn’t care less; the wheels in her brain were turning.

She put her hands on her hips. “Well, there’s only one way to settle this, then: a contest for my accompaniment tomorrow night. Best two out of three wins.”

Chuck pressed his lips into a hard line, thinking. And then he said, “You got yourself a deal.”

Alex looked at James. “Orange?”

He shrugged—barely. “Sure.”

She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Then let the games begin, boys.”

* * * * * * * * * *

They couldn’t just play Rock, Paper, Scissors and call it a night; Alex was more creative than that. In order to be graced with her presence during his match, the winner would have to prove both his strength and wit—and round one was a good old fashioned relay.

“Alright!” Alex commanded everyone’s attention, a beer in hand. “These are the rules for round one. First, you must chug a beer. Second, you must complete twenty-five push-ups—real ones, none of that on-your-knees bullshit. Finally, you must braid either Jack or Austin’s hair. The first one to finish is the winner. Obviously.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Austin muttered.

“But you’ll look so pretty!” Kris proclaimed. He just grunted.

“Alright; Scorpio, I need you to count James’s push-ups,” Alex delegated. “Frankie, you count Chuck’s.”

Frankie laughed to himself. “That won’t be hard.”

“Shut it and give me a beer,” Chuck ordered. He already had his game face on. Alex couldn’t help but admire him for it.

Frankie passed one beer to Chuck and another to James. And then they both looked up at Alex. Waiting.

“On your marks...” she started. “Get set… Go!”

They simultaneously flipped open their drink tabs and started chugging as the room all cheered them on. Alex was genuinely interested to see who would finish first—but she wasn’t surprised when Chuck did. He crushed the can in his fist and tossed it aside just as James finished, and they both got into push-up position. Scorpio and Frankie both started counting; James was going nearly twice as fast as Chuck.

“Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…” Scorpio counted.

“Dude, he’s smoking you,” Trent commented to Chuck.

“Why aren’t you counting out loud?!” Chuck shouted at Frankie.

“Focus!” he returned.

“Twenty! Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five!”

James jumped up and ran over to where Austin sat on one of the beds. He separated his hair into three parts and started trying to braid.

“Twenty-five!” Frankie shouted. Chuck hurried over to Jack—and stared at his hair in bewilderment.

“How the hell am I supposed to do this? His hair is as big as he is!”

“Thank you,” Jack grinned.

He grabbed a chunk of Jack’s curls and tried to separate it from the rest; but before he could figure it out, Kris let out a shout. “Orange wins!”

“Fuck!” Chuck proclaimed.

Alex walked over to inspect James’s braid. Surprisingly, it wasn’t terrible. “Round one goes to Orange Cassidy,” she confirmed.

“Why do you know how to braid hair?” Chuck shot.

James just shrugged.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Alright, boys; time for round two: trivia.”

Alex paused for dramatic affect. Everyone in the room stared back at her, waiting. They were thoroughly invested in this idiotic competition she’d concocted, and she couldn’t be happier about it. “I’ve given our lovely galactic game show host,” she motioned to Kris, “five questions with their correct answers—all of them about yours truly. She will read each question aloud. If you know the answer, buzz in on your respective cell phones with the convenient buzzer app that Trent found; thank you Trent. If you answer incorrectly, the other person will have a chance to steal. First one to three correct answers wins.”

“Cool, let’s go,” Chuck said, his thumb hovering above the buzzer button on his phone screen. Alex pursed her lips; he was too competitive for his own good.

Kris cleared her throat and stood up straighter. She looked down at the hotel room notepad Alex had given her, and read out the first question. “Alright, we’re starting off with an easy one,” she prefaced. “What’s the name of Alex’s submission finisher?”

BZZZ! They both buzzed in—but James beat out Chuck by a second. “Orange?” Kris asked.

“Eighty-Eight Sleeper,” he answered.

“Correct!”

Chuck stubbornly sucked his teeth. “I bet you don’t know why it’s called that.”

James sent him a blank look. “Because it’s a Dragon Sleeper and she was born in 1988, the year of the dragon.”

“He should get an extra point for that,” Frankie piped up.

Chuck rounded on him. “Are you trying to sabotage me?”

“Alright, alright,” Alex intervened. “While that is why it’s called that, there will be no extra points awarded. It’s one-nothing James. Next question, please!”

Kris looked back down at the notepad. “How old was Alex when she started training?”

BZZZ! Chuck shouted out the answer before James even had a chance. “Nineteen! And she was trained by Jimmy Valiant in the same class as Adam Page!”

Kris sent her a surprised look. “Really?”

Alex nodded. “Yup. Hangman and I go way back. But like I just said, there’s no extra points, so we’re tied one-one. I appreciate your enthusiasm, though,” she grinned at Chuck. He didn’t acknowledge it; he was still in competition mode.

“Okay, next question,” Kris started. “Who was Alex’s favorite pro wrestler growing up?”

BZZZ! James beat out Chuck by a hair. But then he paused; he didn’t actually know the answer. “Eddie Guerrero?”

“Wrong!” Kris proclaimed. “Chuck, you have a chance—”

“CHRIS JERICHO!” he shouted before she could finish.

She blinked. “That’s correct.”

“How did you get that wrong?!” Scorpio said to James. “Chris teases her about it practically every time he sees her!”

He shook his head in a rare showing of emotion. “I blanked.”

“Okay. For the third and potentially final question,” Kris dramatically announced. She looked down at the notepad and preemptively laughed as she read the question to herself before stating it aloud. “Who does Alex totally want to punch in the face right now?”

“What?” Chuck and James both sent each other looks of confusion.

“I know it,” Trent muttered.

“OH!” It was as if a lightbulb went off above Chuck’s head and he quickly mashed his buzzer. “Kenny!”

“Yes!” Alex proclaimed. She muttered under her breath as she took a sip of beer, “I totally want to punch Kenny in his stupid face right now.”

“Well then, round two goes to Sexy Chuckie T!” Kris announced.

“YES!” Chuck pointed a finger in James’s face. “You suck!”

“We’re tied,” he flatly returned.

“Yes; indeed you are,” Alex returned. “And that means it’s time for round three --sudden death.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Sudden Death” was nothing more than “Never Have I Ever.” But, quite frankly, Alex was a little nervous. She knew this group of people—and she knew they had little to no shame.

“Okay, these are the rules,” she explained. “We’ll play like normal—but Chuckie and Orange will be the only ones putting down their fingers. The first one to put down all three fingers is the loser of the round.”

“Okay, just to clarify,” Scorpio asked, “so whoever still has fingers up at the end wins the whole thing?”

She nodded. “Correct.”

“I don’t like this,” Chuck said, even as he held up three fingers. “Y’all are gonna say things you know I’ve done to make me lose.”

“Never have I ever been a conspiracy theorist,” Frankie smirked. Chuck didn’t think it was funny.

“Especially you!”

“Alright, he actually has a point,” Alex begrudgingly admitted. “Let’s keep it unbiased. Kris, you start.”

Kris put a finger to her lips in thought. “Hmm… oh, I know,” she smirked. “Never have I ever slid into someone’s DMs.”

Alex let out a loud burst of laughter. “Maybe if Trent was playing,” she commented.

“Jeez, Alex, just put me on blast,” Trent returned.

She just smirked and took another sip of beer.

“So neither of you have done that, either?” Kris asked.

“I’m the Kentucky Gentleman, Kris,” Chuck said as James shook his head.

She arched her eyebrows. “Color me surprised.”

“Alright, all fingers are still up,” Alex said. Let’s go to the right. Scorpio, you’re up.”

Scorpio deviously stroked his chin as he looked back and forth between Chuck and James. “Never have I ever… walked in on people having sex.”

There was an anxious pause—and then Chuck put down a finger.

Alex gasped. “What? Who?!”

He cringed. “Someone at my wrestling school back in Kentucky. It was gross.”

She crinkled her nose in disgust. “Well then. Your turn, Trent.”

He had a statement at the ready. “Never have I ever seen Alex naked.”

“DUDE!” she proclaimed. Meanwhile, Chuck and James both put down a finger.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Okay. No judgment, but please explain.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “It was an accident, and I was only half-naked. They walked in on me while I was changing earlier.”

“That happened today?” Scorpio asked.

“Hence why I said it,” Trent smirked.

Alex’s cheeks burned. “Next!”

That meant Frankie was up. “Alright. Never have I ever… pissed myself during a match.”

“Oh, gross!” Kris laughed—and James put down a finger.

“What!” Alex proclaimed, wide-eyed. “Okay, now you need to explain.”

He pursed his lips. “Back when I was Fire Ant, Gran Akuma kicked me right in the bladder during a match. I drank too much water that night and a little came out.”

“Oh shit!” Chuck proclaimed. “I remember that!”

Alex and Kris looked at each other—and burst out laughing. “Okay, okay,” Alex eventually said. “You both only have one finger left. Whoever puts a finger down next is the loser.”

“Pressure’s on,” Jack said as he rubbed his hands together. He smirked. “Never have I ever drunkenly confessed my love for someone.”

“OH COME ON!” Chuck shouted as he put down his last finger. “You said that on purpose!”

Jack shook his head. “Dude, no I didn’t,” he said with a laugh. “I swear to God.”

“Who did you confess your love to?” Kris curiously asked.

Chuck looked sheepishly down at the floor. “Alex,” he muttered.

Kris’s jaw dropped as she turned wide eyes on Alex. “When did this happen?”

“After Double or Nothing last year,�� she said.

“I was three sheets to the wind and we were in Vegas, alright?” Chuck explained before anyone else could put in their two cents. “Besides, I didn’t mean love like in love. I meant it like, ‘I love you, you’re my best friend.’”

Trent patted his back. “You keep telling yourself that, bud.”

“I did mean in that way!” he insisted.

“Okay, well however you meant it,” Alex interjected, “you lost the round, which means that Freshly Squeezed here has won the right to my accompaniment tomorrow night.”

Chuck pouted. “Man…”

“BUT.” Alex held up a finger. “We all know I don’t have the final say on that. It’s up to the EVPs and Tony.”

Chuck looked back up at her. “What? Then why the hell did you make us do all that?”

She shrugged. “Because it was fun.”

“It really was,” Kris agreed, and everyone else echoed the sentiment. Everyone, that is, except Chuck and James.

“If I explain to Kenny what happened tonight,” James started, “he’ll probably honor my victory.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “NO!” she proclaimed. “You’re hereby disqualified; I’m going out with Chuck and Trent tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Chuck raised his arms in victory. “You suck, Orange!”

The room erupted as everyone started arguing and talking over each other again. But Alex sat back, a contented smile on her face. The Best Friends really were her best friends and, in that moment, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

#aew fanfiction #aew imagine #chuck taylor fanfiction #chuck taylor imagine #orange cassidy fanfiction #orange cassidy imagine #best friends fanfiction #best friends imagine #aew #kris statlander fanfiction #kris statlander imagine

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