#i just have eighty billion things to say

[demigods-posts]

pick a number between 1 and 22 for me?

#yeah i have a problem #jk #i just have eighty billion things to say #help a girl out

[nonasuch]

here is a fun little star wars scenario that has been pinging around inside my head like a screensaver:

so let’s say there’s some very zealous, very low-ranking fresh young Imperial officer on duty the day they take the Senator from Alderaan into custody. 

and he is very very nervous because a) he’s been here for like a week and b) none of that week required him to be in a room with Darth Vader. which he now is. so he is trying to focus very very hard on Doing Everything Exactly According To Protocol, as a means of not focusing on the seven-foot evil wizard standing fifteen feet away.

and part of the protocol for processing new prisoners is to make a new file for them in the prisoner database, and enter all their biographical details and vital statistics and a gene sample and their known associates and the nature of their terrible crimes against the Empire and so on. which he does! very meticulously!

except the computer keeps throwing an error message. the stupid thing keeps beeping at him, this awful grating little noise that makes his shoulders ratchet up tighter and tighter every time it honks at him, and he can’t fix it and Darth Vader is right over there—

except oh god oh fuck the beeping noise must be annoying Darth Vader, too, because he’s coming over here and our poor junior officer is convinced he’s going to die before he even lives long enough to send his first paycheck home to his poor widowed mother —

he stammers out an apology. Vader just stares at him. he swears he’ll figure out the problem right away, sir, it’s probably a bug in the system, it’s just that for some silly reason it keeps saying this gene sample doesn’t match the one on file for the Senator so he can’t get her logged as a new prisoner just yet —

“Dismissed,” says Vader. the poor kid flees, gratefully.

Vader considers the matter. in fact, his underling was correct: the gene sample, which he saw taken through his very own helmet lenses, does not match the official record of Senator Leia Organa, heir to the throne of Alderaan. so: perhaps the sample on record was falsified. not impossible, but very, very difficult. and ordinarily a crime attempted by the lowly and desperate. he cannot see any need for it, in the daughter of a queen.

another possibility presents itself. Alderaan has no history of using royal doubles, as some worlds do. but Bail Organa has worked closely with royal houses where the practice is long-established. perhaps he was inspired. perhaps the girl they captured is not Leia Organa at all.

Vader runs the gene sample against the ship’s database. it is woefully incomplete, of course, containing only a fraction of the Empire’s billions of citizens: the ship’s own complement, a selection of known criminals and Rebels they might encounter, high-ranking officials whose identity must be confirmed should the Emperor require their presence. unlikely that this girl, whoever she is, would have a record here, or even a partial match—

the computer beeps at him. it’s a cheerful beep, this time, not the error message that stymied the junior officer. the computer reports that the gene sample is a partial match for Pooja Naberrie, the Senator from Naboo. they are, with eighty-nine percent probability, first cousins.

and Vader just. kind of stands there. for a minute.

when he goes to Leia’s cell, there’s no interrogation droid with him. he goes in. he shuts the door behind him. he stands there, silent, for frankly a worryingly long time, until Leia has run through her entire stockpile of  “how dare you, I’m a member of the Senate on a humanitarian mission” and “whatever you want, you can’t possibly think I would be of any help” and “well, if you’re going to interrogate me, get on with it already” and “are you even listening to me?” and  falls silent herself. 

Vader has been listening to her. he has also been listening to the Force, which seems to think that she’s not lying. obviously the humanitarian mission part is bullshit, that goes without saying. but the “I’m Senator Leia Organa” parts and the “I won’t help you” parts? yeah. he searched his feelings. he knows them to be true. the Force is singing in his head, bright and clear, in a way it hasn’t for nearly twenty years.

there’s still Tarkin to deal with, though. Vader turns and leaves the cell without a word.

Tarkin wants to blow up Alderaan. this is unacceptable, obviously, and Vader forbids it on the grounds that the Queen and the Viceroy possess vital intelligence, not disclosed to their daughter, that must be acquired. said intelligence being, not that he’s saying this out loud, how the fuck Bail got his hands on his daughter, and who else knows about it.

“the fate of the galaxy rests on it,” is what he does say out loud. from the way the Force harmonizes with his words, that might even be true.

so the Death Star just. parks there. in an incredibly threatening orbit around the planet. they issue a demand that the Organas surrender themselves, or else, but apparently the happy couple just left for a low-tech weekend retreat in the mountains, what awful timing, they’re sending someone to fetch them right away. Vader shuts himself up in his quarters, to seethe and watch the surveillance feed from Leia’s cell. he’s not really paying attention to much else. 

and it’s not like a random freighter getting tractored in for being an incredibly obvious smuggling vessel is the kind of thing you’d alert Darth Vader over, anyway. 

so he’s still sitting there, one great big thought filling up his whole entire head, watching Leia take a frustration nap, when her cell door opens. 

and a trooper comes in.

and the trooper takes off his helmet.

and he says, “I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.”

(continued here)

#i have no idea what happens after that but it's definitely not the plot of star wars: a new hope #star wars #not fic

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24

“Now,” Alli says, suddenly serious again. “Let’s go back. You’re from the future?”

Steve sighs and nods. “Robin and I both. We have a friend… well, really she’s the friends of the kids out there. But she has… powers. I’m not sure what all she can do, but she can lift things with her mind, and she can—best I can figure—force energy into things. So there’s these… these gates, we call them, into a place called the Upside Down.” He explains it all to her, watches as her eyes change from shock to acceptance, then determination.

“Okay,” she finally says. “First things first, I think you need roughly eighty billion hugs.” She opens her arms again, and he chuckles wetly as he curls into her. “Love you, bubba,” she murmurs.

“Love you, Al,” he murmurs back.

“Now,” she says, not loosening her hold on him, “how can I help?”

“No,” he says immediately, pulling back to look at her. “No- Alli, please, you can’t-”

“Hey,” she says, catching his eye. “I wasn’t really asking, bubba. I’m not letting you do this alone.”

“I can’t,” he whispers. “I can’t lose you twice. I can’t have it be because of me.”

“Hey,” she says fiercely, “you look at me. Whatever happens, it is not your fault, got it?”

“It would be, though,” he insists. “‘Cause you wouldn’t have gotten pulled into all this if it weren’t for me.”

She pulls him into a hug. “I was dead, bubba,” she says flatly, which is enough to pull a broken giggle from him. “I can’t get much deader.”

“‘S not a word.”

“Is too, shut up, I was making a point. Whatever happens is not your fault, Steve. And hey, if it counts for anything, I don’t plan on dying.” She pulls back to rest their foreheads together. “I’m in this whether you like it or not, kiddo. That’s non-negotiable. What is negotiable is how you respond to it.”

He sighs, but can’t hide the smile. “Then I guess we’d better introduce you.”

She grins and pulls him into a tight hug, smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss onto his temple. “I can’t wait.”

They walk back out into the living room, where everyone is talking over each other. Steve sighs. “Alright,” he says, loud enough to be heard over everyone. “Not only is El still resting, but now Barb, Will, and Mrs. Byers are, as well. Keep it down, please.” He looks to Robin. “Any ideas?”

She sighs. “Besides asking El when she wakes up? Time travel fucked with the butterfly effect.”

Steve hums. “We’ve had stranger,” he admits.

Just then, El walks out, rubbing her eyes. “Steve?”

“Hey, El,” he smiles. “How’d you sleep?”

She hums and leans onto him, and he runs a hand over her head. Her eyes land on Alli, and she smiles. “Oh, good. It worked.”

Steve freezes. “El? What do you mean?”

“When I was in the black, I saw her. I brought her back with me.” She frowns at Alli. “Where did you go? You did not come here.”

Alli blinks. “Earlier today? I was hanging out with a friend.”

El hums. “Good. You came back normal.” Suddenly she smiles at Alli. “I’m glad it worked.”

Alli chuckles. “Me too,” she agrees.

“Eleven,” Steve begins, “were you able to do this before?”

“No,” she says, “but I do not know if I would have been able to eventually, or if it is new.”

Steve takes a breath, releases it, and nods. “Okay.” He hugs her tighter. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “For bringing her back. For helping us find Barb and Will.”

She wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes. “You’re welcome,” she whispers back.

He grins and looks at everyone. “El decides dinner tonight,” he says. “For everyone who’s staying, there’s a phone in the kitchen. Call whoever you need to.”

A hand ruffles his hair, and he grins up at Alli even as he tries to bat her hand away. “Being in charge looks good on you,” she says. Her smile is a little sad. “I just wish it hadn’t come down to this.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Me too.”

Robin walks up to them. “So. Alli.”

Alli smiles at her. “You must be the infamous Robin.”

Robin raises a brow at Steve. “You told her about me?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Of course I did, Robs. It’s you.”

She offers him a crooked grin. “Thanks, dingus.” She turns her attention back on Alli. “So this is crazy,” she says. “Time travel and alternate dimensions and all that. And you just… believed him?”

“Well, yeah,” Alli shrugs. “I mean sure it sounds crazy, but he’s my brother. It would take a lot more for me not to believe him. And… it’s not that he looks different, but there’s something different about him, y’know?”

Robin nods at her, then Steve, who rolls his eyes fondly. “She’s my sister, Robs, you don’t need to make sure she’s good for me.”

“Oh, like your parents?” She asks, one brow raised.

Alli snorts. “She’s not wrong, bubba.”

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#stranger things #if I should stay #steve harrington #eddie munson #eventual Steddie #robin buckley #Allison Harrington #oc #time travel fic #time travel fix it #fix it fic #y’all someone tell me how to tag #uhhhh Steve finally has that breakdown he needed to have? idfk #starambles

[qqueenofhades]

May I ask for new year’s eve Dreamling watching the ball drop because Hob celebrates every year, Morpheus isn’t the sort of person who cares at all, but Hob forces him to celebrate and wear the dumb paper glasses and stuff anyway

"Hob," Dream says, not for the first time, in a deeply pained tone. "I simply do not see why this rigmarole is necessary."

"It's necessary because I say it's necessary, you joyless git." Hob dulls the sting by leaning over to plant a kiss on Dream's cheek, adjust the 2024 cardboard glitter crown from Tesco that is perched atop the dread dark head of the immortal King of Dreams and Nightmares, and throw an arm over his shoulders -- all of which Dream suffers with the tense, bristled wariness of a cat suddenly subjected to excessive snuggling. "Plus, there's going to be a general election this year -- fucking finally -- and the Tories are going to get thrown out on their kleptocratic arses. Good as any reason to celebrate, if you ask me."

Morpheus mutters something under his breath that Hob can't understand but doesn't sound particularly complimentary, but for once in his eternal-ageless-stubborn-bastard life, decides not to press the point. He's already been horribly traumatized by enduring the New Year's Eve party and being forced to socialize with Hob's friends from around London and the South East and colleagues from Goldsmiths and all the other strays he's picked up over the years (indeed, very much like Dream himself). All right, socialize might be a stretch. More like lurking ominously with a single glass of prosecco and giving the other guests a fright when they come round the corner too fast, but at least he hasn't run screaming into the night or huffily evaporated into the Dreaming never to return, so Hob is going to optimistically count that as a success. Besides, it is tacitly agreed between the two of them that Hob's love language is cheerily bullying Morpheus into taking part in normal human courtship activities and Morpheus's concession is to act like this is the worst thing to ever happen to him in literally eighty billion years, but still grudgingly put up with it. Baby steps, Hob thinks, taking a swig of his own bubbly and looking back at the television. Baby steps.

It's already the New Year in Oz and the rest of Down Under, and five hours off yet in New York, where they're still greasing up the ball drop in Times Square, but it's just about time in London, the fireworks over the Thames are all set to go, and Hob and the ten other people in his flat (hardly an excessive number, not that you'd know it from Morpheus's face) lean forward in eagerness. The bloke on the BBC leads a countdown, it rolls over to 00:00:01 GMT, 1 January 2024, and everyone lets out a boozy cheer, raising glasses to salute each other and making more please-God-help-us jokes about the Tories. Hob, meanwhile, turns to Morpheus, who gazes expectantly back at him with those luminous, star-flecked eyes, and leans in to kiss him -- quickly, chastely, nothing to make the silly goose come over in his melodramatic conniptions all over again. "Happy new year, darling."

Dream huffs, but he does look slightly pleased. (It's a subtle art, reading his expressions, and to the untutored looks no different from "mildly constipated," but Hob still knows his Stranger well.) "Happy new year, Hob Gadling," he allows, after a long moment. "I still do not understand why you feel it necessary to celebrate all this. Have you not seen so many that it is no longer special?"

"See, that's exactly why." Hob should get up and refill the pigs-in-blankets tray, as there is evidently nothing that British academics love more and it has been descended on like starving vultures, but he doesn't feel like it, not yet. He grins at Morpheus instead, lowering his voice, not that there's much risk of anyone overhearing. "A bloke born all the way back in God's Year 1356, and I'm still here, ringing in the fucking year 2024? That's a bloody miracle, you ask me. And with you, no less? What else would I want in the whole world?"

Dream's expression melts a little, despite himself. A faint pink flush climbs into his elegant ice-sculpted cheeks, and he huffs. "You are quite the flatterer, Robert Gadling."

"Eh." Hob takes a more comfortable position, settles deeper into the couch cushions, and feels, with great vindication, Dream's head tip and lean and rest on his shoulder, snuggling closer entirely of his own volition. "You love it."

#anonymous #ask #dreamling #dreamling ff #dreamhob #winter prompts

[tobiasdrake]

Do you think Anakin Skywalker's redemption balances out the evils of Darth Vader? I ask because sometimes I think about it, and it seems disproportionate to think that killing one old fuck who was harming a blood family member makes up for murdering people indiscriminately for decades. But maybe that's just cynical thinking on my end.

I have such complicated feelings about the redemption of Darth Vader. Because. Like. Star Wars and I do not get along well on a pretty fundamental level. Despite being built on a pretty simple basis of White-and-Black morality - White Hats and Black Hats with very little nuance or moral complexity between - I don't think Star Wars as it exists today really gets morality.

Here's the thing.

At the time it was written, within the scope of what Star Wars originally was, it made sense.

Star Wars was not designed to be this massive multimedia franchise with hundreds of entries and elaborate storylines starring every single character ever to appear for even five seconds. It was not made to be the story of a vast universe with no true main character.

Star Wars was made to be the story of Luke. It's a Chosen One space opera faerie tale about a young boy receiving a call to adventure, discovering great power within himself, and finding his place in the world.

Vader's redemption, as originally written, wasn't about Vader. It was Luke's catharsis; His reward for resisting the temptations offered by both Obi-Wan and the Emperor and instead choosing mercy. Luke ends his story by putting faith in his father's love for him. Vader's redemption is his reward for choosing to believe in better angels.

Strictly within the context of The Story of Luke Skywalker And Nothing Else, Vader's redemption works.

But Star Wars isn't the story of Luke Skywalker and nothing else anymore. Now it is about the vast universe of characters and ideas. This transition has resulted in a lot of friction because the original trilogy made choices that work for The Story of Luke but are not conducive to horizontal storytelling.

Like. The idea of the Jedi being gone, that Luke is the "last hope" for the Jedi because there's literally nobody left but him and Leia? Yeah. Writers have been going "NO HE DIDN'T SAY THAT YOU'RE WRONG" pretty much since the EU began. The original trilogy said no other Jedi but we want to have Jedi characters in stories we write so the original trilogy gets told to go fuck itself.

There are like eighty billion Jedi running around the Imperial Era now. Nobody actually died in the Purge 'cause not being able to write Jedi characters isn't fun.

And. Unfortunately. One of those problems is Vader. Because if he's not just Luke's cathartic reward for believing in his father's love? If we have to actually engage with this man as a "real" person within the context of a universe? Then. Uh. Yeah, he's Patient Zero for unsatisfying lightswitch redemptions.

The problem, the fundamental problem underpinning Vader's redemption, is that he doesn't change in any meaningful way.

There was a bit of that already present in the original redemption. In Empire Strikes Back, Vader wanted Luke to join him and then they'd kill the Emperor together. In Return of the Jedi, Vader joins Luke and then kills the Emperor for him. Right from the get-go, he already wanted to kill the Emperor with Luke; It's only the context surrounding the act that's different.

Within the Story of Luke, it nonetheless works because Luke receives his father's love and approval without compromising his, Luke's moral values to get it. His father kills the Emperor and dies for him, which is super meaningful from Luke's (and only Luke's) perspective.

But as the series grew, Vader's redemption became further devalued. Revenge of the Sith told us that this is a man whose road to wickedness came about when he threw away everything he loved, when he murdered the people in his court, out of a violent and desperate love for his family. For his family, he will betray his own side and slaughter those he was meant to be loyal to. That is the action that brought him to where he is today.

That. Uh. That makes it feel a lot less impactful when he suddenly betrays his own side and slaughters the Emperor for Luke. Like. I don't know how Palpatine didn't see that coming when it's just Anakin doing the thing that made him Vader in the first place.

There is a point to be made that Anakin's love for his family up to that point was possessive and violent. In jealousy and rage, he choked Padme to death. He cut off Luke's hand. This is not a man who loves his family well. But Return of the Jedi doesn't undercut that in any meaningful way. He can be violently possessive of his family and stab anyone who looks at them funny; These two things don't contradict each other.

This man butchered children and lightsaber dueled Obi-Wan because he was mad about his family. Did Palpatine really think he wasn't going to huck him down a reactor shaft for literally the exact same reason, no difference whatsoever?

But that's only the tip of the iceberg, because the developing Star Wars universe makes another significant point about Vader dying for Luke: In the grand scheme of things. Like. Who gives a shit whether or not he loves his son? Insufficiently loving his family is the least of Vader's transgressions.

As early as Attack of the Clones, we see that Anakin Skywalker is a violent fascistic monster with a propensity for genocide. The Clone Wars cartoon does a phenomenal job of portraying Anakin's gradual seduction into fascistic systems of belief.

Anakin loves the idea of keeping peace via brutal military dictatorship. He has "fun" political chats with Tarkin about the merits of a galactic police state. He's emotionally abusive and violently possessive of his secret wife. He slaughters children who've done nothing to him without hesitation, sometimes because he's pissed off at other members of their family and sometimes 'cause that's just the price of keeping peace yo.

Hell, even his desire to kill Palpatine and make his family into the official galactic monarchs gets reframed into something he's wanted since Revenge of the Sith. That wasn't even a reaction to meeting Luke; he's legit wanted to supplant Palpatine with a Skywalker Dynasty forever. And we're supposed to take it as a major act of repentance when he ultimately stabs Palpatine for Luke? This man has been trying to stab Palpatine for Luke for twenty years.

All of this context makes Vader's redemption difficult to swallow in the grand scheme of things. He lived as an unrepentant brutal fascist monster guilty of multiple acts of genocide, chomping at the bit to betray his master for the sake of his family. He died as an unrepentant brutal fascist monster guilty of multiple acts of genocide who betrayed his master for the sake of his family. And the best thing that can be said of him is that he accepted Luke's lifestyle choices in the end.

A sweet moment for Luke, yet far from an inspiring transformation of a vile man into a hero - but which nonetheless inspired a thousand unsatisfying, terrible copycats.

#star wars #darth vader #anakin skywalker

[olderthannetfic]

I caved and got Scrivener.

Gotta say, I really like the program, especially the fact that it can handle a lot more words and heavier files than Google Docs could ever dream of, but the thing I love the most is just how professional it makes me feel.

I come home from work, sit in front of my silly little laptop with my silly little fandom selected stickers glued to the protective shell, and there I go, writing my silly little fics but feeling like a hardened professional writer whose deadline is due.

My only complaint would be that, for some reason, I can't make the switch from UK English to US English, so a bunch of words are signed as mistakes for no reason, but... oh, well. I have LanguageTool installed on Firefox exactly for the moment I want to post on Ao3 and run through the story a second time.

--

I imagine the language thing is buried somewhere in the eighty billion pages of intimidating how-tos. I love Scrivener, but damn does it take me a while to figure out how to use some of it.

[riathedreamer]

Gotta share this writing here as well -

So in the Footnotes server, we discussed possible AUs and I got a bit too attached to an AU of ch 35 where Crowley got caught by Heaven and young Aziraphale (Aziräfälen my beloved) is being looked after by Beelzebub and Gabriel as they begrudingly promised in ch 33.

And then I wrote a thing...

Aziraphale wanted, for whatever stupid reason, to touch one of the stars he kept admiring.

“If he runs off, you get to track him down,” Beelzebub said with a smile that contained too many teeth. It brightened up their already pretty face.

“Hey, if no one can find him, he’d be safer than ever,” Gabriel said, throwing out his arms. “Think about that.”

“I have. I hope you’ll enjoy the flight.”

He wouldn’t. His wings were already tired at this point, and he thought he’d moved past the time when he had to be in charge of a bumbling Aziraphale.

“Fine,” he said, and Beelzebub grinned in victory. After having dragged the angel back toward the safe house, they’d disposed of him by one of the cometary dust trails he’d follow in his curiosity. At least it was an easy way to track him down - just follow the glowing dust.

The young angel was glamping his wings in excitement - and how strange was that, to think of Aziraphale as young. He’d always lacked… something. A certain level of intelligence or knowledge or common sense. But now he actually had an excuse to be an idiot.

“Aziraphale.”

He spun around, eyes wide and alert. “Yes?” He almost looked like his usual self, actually, as he waited to be told what to do.

“Stop doing what you’re doing and just - stay there. Yeah? Stay there, and count to, uhm, a billion. A billion sounds great. It’s the perfect job for you.”

“Oh. Thank you?” Aziraphale smiled. “But why?”

Gabriel blinked. “Why?”

“Yes. It’s a rather odd number, isn’t it? It might as well be two billion. Or a hundred. A two thousand and eighty-three. Why one billion? And why does it have to be counted?”

“Because I told you to?” Gabriel said. Duh.

“Oh. Yes. But - why are you telling me to do that?”

“To keep you busy.”

“That - that certainly would keep me occupied for a while. But -”

God, this was a headache. That’s what you get for making a deal with a demon, Gabriel supposed. Well, any other demon that wasn’t Beelzebub. “Don’t say why,” he commanded him. “No more why’s.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, and then reconsidered. “...When -?”

The Lord barely gave him the strength to cling to his patience. “Why are you asking so many questions?! Crowley hasn’t even had the chance to corrupt you yet!”

“Is there a specific rule set for when a why is appropriate? I don’t want to be rude, but since you just asked why -” He trailed off under Gabriel’s glare. “Never mind,” he said and smiled again. “I do have a question, however. Who is this Crowley?”

#are we meant to read the footnotes? #my good omens fic

[br1ghtestlight]

"hello burger lady!! tiny people. BOB."

THE SLOW HEAD TURN WHILE FISCHOEDER IS STARING AT THEM LMAOO he's such a freak. what is he doing

aww linda put a smiley face on the check thats so cute. "nooo i enjoyed it :)"

A BROTHERHOOD?? BLOOD OATH? love how louise hears this and immediately stands up she's like hello. hello im interested. PLEASE let me into your blood oath club mr fischoder

babalon like the ancient uhh. thing.

ooooh :0

(also my dad used to call my mom babalon among MANY other creative insults when they were married and this immediately brought that memory back to me. but he said it like babble-on like she was babbling. sorry idk why i wanted to share that)

"and the other members already picked all of the best chefs in town soo im asking you" i literally dont believe fischoeder lmao he definitely just wanted bob to come along as his personal chef and couldn't come up w/ a better excuse like. come on

"a billion dollars" "nope." "a million dollars" "no...." "a billion dollars :D" "she just said that"

i know bob is holding onto fischoeder's back bcuz he cant see but also its like. kinda intimate?? like?

also love bob's new jacket. these are the kinda things you only notice when you've watched WAAYY too many bob's burgers episodes but its a nice jacket :) the blue color suits him. and it has a hood

personally i would be a little more concerned that mr fischoeder only has one eye and it is NOT looking in the direction of the dangerous sharp cliff theyre walking beside. i know he's driven bob in his boat before but he's SOO BLIND WHY ARE YOU WILLINGLY GETTING IN A BOAT WITH HIM <- saying this as someone who doesn't really have vision in one eye or depth perception. i wouldnt give in a boat with myself driving either

"it was actually kinda fun to come up with!! i-i hope you like it :)" bob is so sweet im gonna cry. he's so excited about cooking SOMEONE LET HIM RANT ABOUT HIS SPECIAL INTEREST RIGHT NOW. he's in autism heaven

NOT THE TIKTOK MENTION 😭😭

recognize some of these guys from the gingerbread house episode which was another horrible experience for bob lmao

"can i keep hiiim? 🥺" what is his PROBLEM

WAS HE WORKING THE OMLETTE STATION AT YOUR LAST SEX PARTY??? <- brand new sentence

also this 100% confirms to me that fischoeder has had sex with every old ass man on this camping trip bcuz NO WAY he's getting rich old woman pussy im sorry. i do think he's bisexual but his sex parties are male-exclusive. he fucked those old men

not looking forward to whatever is going to happen to bob in this episode.

I ALWAYS FORGET FISCHOEDER IS LIKE A HARDCORE DRUG ADDICT remember that time he did mushrooms in s13 That would explain some things. that weren't already explained by the alcoholism

bob is surprisingly chill considering the circumstances and the fact that he's getting less than a thousand dollars of restaurant equipment out of this. i know he trusts fischoeder (for some reason i dont entirely understand) but being blindfolded and taken to a secret island with a bunch of rich old men and having NO CELL SIGNAL and everybody is drugged as hell.... he doesn't even know where he is..... GIRL RUN‼️‼️

also there's only one bed in fischoeder's tent which means there's either a seperate camping section for the chefs (unlikely) he expects bob to sleep outside in the storm (very likely) or bob and fischoeder are going to have to share a bed 👀👀 i know its probably not going to be addressed but i need somebody to write And There Was Only One Bed bob x fischoeder fanfic about this episode immediately. like that needs to happen

bob realizing that the chances of him dying on this camping trip are quickly reaching eighty or ninety percent ooh he's COOKED

"Don't wear brown and black. Never look into someone's eyes..." "Bring your own fork. And briefcase." "Of course. Everyone knows that." "And leave one of your shoes as a gift." "But you have to hide it..." gene and louise are SOO silly i love them so much. they play off each other so well its like a constant improv class

this subplot is Trying To Teach Tina Social Skills meanwhile gene and louise don't have them either they just dont give a fuck about learning them. well louise knows them she just disregards them. gene doesn't know ANYTHING

HAHAHA BOB REALIZING THEYRE LEAVING HIM THERE TO DIE. ITS NEVER BEEN MORE OVER love him not even acknowledging their crazy fire drug-induced dancing he's so used to this bullshit. bob should get a week off after this MINIMUM but we all know he loves cooking too much for that

NOT MR FISCHOEDERS GAY ASS HIP SHAKE?????????

mfw im the only sober person at a crazy drug party full of rich people on an island during a deadly storm and its only Tuesday. 😐

UH OH IS THE CORRECT RESPONSE. BOB REALIZES HES SO FUCKED

aww its kinda cute he's making sure that fischoeder is taken care of too and packing up all their things. dad instincts

at a certain point u kinda have to call him calvin dude. like you're WELL past "mr fischoeder" territory in this situation <- is also calling him mr fischoeder in this review

"shh he's hunting us" is probably NOT what bob wanted to hear

there's something about this that is sooo.....

in defense of bob he has almost died or been killed with fischoeder SEVERAL times before this episode including in the movie. its like a male bonding thing for them at this point

"and i invented a new way to tie a tie" I KNEW I WASNT CRAZY FOR THINKING THAT LOUISES TIE WAS TIED WRONG IN THAT SCREENSHOT i love that i picked up on that and felt the need to point it out. having never worn a tie before in my life (not to my knowledge at least)

this is literally what it feels like when ur autistic and trying to understand neurotypical social conventions. tina is trying SO HARD she's such a sweet girl :( its okay baby girl i understand i get it

THE BITEY GUY HAS A NAME BOB

am i allowed to say that bob with wet hair is kinda 👀👀🔥

why'd he kiss him like that ??

he's suuuch a sweetie in his oversized jacket <3

"No, no. Plants don't like sweet drinks!" "Just hard liquor?"

"dad is missing a WILD night" *hard cut to bob tied up and being used as a human sacrifice for cannibalism*

WHAT WAS RHAT. WHY DID CALVIN LOOK AT HIM LIKE THAT. YES IM USING HIS LEGAL FIRST NAME BCUZ WTF WAS THAT GAY ASS GUILTY LOOK?? HES NEVER BEEN GUILTY BEFORE he care so much about bob im gonna throw up. what the hell

HE LIIIKES HIM 😭 HE FELT GUILTY BCUZ HE LOVES AND CARES ABOUT BOB THIS IS SO FUCKED UP 😭😭💕

he probably also feels guilty that this is like the sixth time he's gotten bob into a near death situation. like at a certain point it starts to feel personal yknow

*howling* "god. i hate when he does that"

straight up on the verge of a meltdown. i dont even blame him tbh

bob isnt WRONG but also we are talking about a crazy drugged up cannibal who thinks he's a wild animal so maybe we could leave saving him until tomorrow morning? like idk i feel like he wouldnt exactly fit on their dingy. and even if he did what if he bites

"and you do have to come for ice cream!! it wont be any fun without you" okay thats kinda cute. this episode definitely kept up to pace with the insane homoerotic relationship between bob and fischoeder and im happy about that. almost gave us the tiniest hint into what fischoeder really feels/thinks about bob which. yeah

VERY UNHINGED EPISODE BUT REALLY FUN AND CUTE?? everything between bob and fischoeder was so. soo. yknow. and the subplot was funny and cute too :) very sweet little episode i always love when they go off on adventures like w/ teddy in sea me now. and of course their (many many) near death experiences together thats truly what its all about baby!!! really enjoyed this episode it was exactly the right amount of unhinged and funny

#txt #bob's burgers #episode review

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Booklist on "Red Team Blues"

I've published more than 20 books, and I still get nervous in the few months leading up to a new book's release. It's one thing for my agent, my editor and my wife to like one of my novels - but what about the rest of the world? Will the book soar, or bomb? I've had books do both, and the latter is No Fun. Scarifying, even.

My next novel is Red Team Blues, which Tor Books and Head of Zeus will publish on April 25. It is a significant departure for me in many ways: it's a heist novel about cryptocurrency, grifters and crime bosses, the first book in a trilogy that runs in reverse chronological order (!):

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

The hero of RTB is Marty Hench, a forensic accountant and digital pioneer. Marty got his start when he discovered spreadsheets as an MIT undergrad. He got so deep into the world of Visicalc and Lotus 1-2-3 that he dropped out of university, moved to Silicon Valley, and pitted his ability to find money with spreadsheets against people who use spreadsheets to hide money.

RTB opens with Marty on the verge of retirement, when he is roped in for one last job - a favor to a friend who has built a new cryptocurrency that is in danger of imploding thanks to some stolen keys. If Marty can recover the keys, his customary 25% commission will come out to more than a quarter of a billion dollars. How could he say no?

I wrote this book in a white-hot fury of the sort that I underwent in 2006, when I wrote Little Brother in eight weeks flat. Red Team Blues took six weeks. It's good. I sent it to my Patrick Nielsen Hayden, my editor. The next day, I got this email:

That.

Was.

A! Fucking! Ride! Whoa!

That night, I rolled over in bed to find my wife wide awake at 2AM, staring at her phone. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Finishing your book," she said. "I had to find out how it ended."

I loved writing this book, and after I finished it, I found that Marty Hench was still living in my mind. How could I keep writing about him, though? Red Team Blues is his final adventure. Then, one day, it hit me: now that I knew how Marty's career ended, I could write about how it started.

I could write prequels - as many as I chose - retelling the storied career of Martin Hench, the scambusting forensic accountant of Silicon Valley. I pitched my editor on two prequels - one a midcareer adventure, the other his origin story - and my editor bought 'em. For the first time in decades, in dozens of books, I'm writing a trilogy.

It's nearly done. I finished the second book, "The Bezzle" - about private prisons and financial corruption - late last year. I'm 80%+ through the final one, "Picks and Shovels," AKA Marty's origin story, a caper involving an early eighties PC-selling pyramid scheme run by a Mormon bishop, a Catholic priest and an orthodox rabbi, who run their affinity scam through a company called "Three Wise Men Computers."

But for all that I love these books, love writing these books, I am still nervous. Butterflies-in-stomach. I got some reassurance in December, when the New Yorker's Chris Byrd said some extraordinarily kind things about RTB when he profiled me:

https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-interview/cory-doctorow-wants-you-to-know-what-computers-can-and-cant-do

Despite that, though, I continued to have vicious pangs of self-doubt, imposter syndrome, superstitious dread, haunting memories of the mentors and writers I admired as a young man whose careers were snatched away by changing industry trends, market shifts, or just a bad beat. I love this book. Would other people? I'm not a crime writer. Ugh.

Then, this week, my publicist Laura Etzkorn at Tor sent me the first trade review for RTB, Booklist's starred notice, by David Pitt:

Well, talk about timely. In the wake of the late-2022 collapse of cryptocurrency comes this novel about a forensic accountant who’s hired to work a case involving electronic theft of cryptocurrency. The guy’s name is Martin Hench; he’s in his late sixties, with decades of experience, and he thinks he’s seen it all. Until now. Doctorow, author of such novels as The Rapture of the Nerds (2012) Homeland (2013), and Pirate Cinema (2012), is a leading force in cyberpunk fiction, and here he mixes cyberpunk with traditional private eye motifs (if Martin Hench feels a bit like Philip Marlowe or even Jim Rockford, that’s probably not a coincidence).

Doctorow's novels are always feasts for the imagination and the intellect, and this one is no exception: it’s jam-packed with cutting-edge ideas about cybersecurity and crypto, and its near-future world is lovingly detailed and completely believable. Another winner from an sf wizard who has always proved himself adept at blending genres for both adults and teens.

To quote a certain editor of my acquaintance:

That.

Was.

A! Fucking! Ride!

Whoa!

Maybe this writing thing is gonna work out after all.

ETA: Well, this is pretty great. Shortly after I hit publish on this, Library Journal published its review of Red Team Blues, by Andrea Dyba:

Cyber detective, forensic accountant—whatever his title, 67-year-old Marty Hench is one of those rare people who tries to prevent financial crimes. He’s spent his whole career as a member of the Red Team, as an attacker, one who always has the advantage. Now ready for retirement, he’s living it up in California and trying to decide what he wants to do when he grows up when he’s hired by an old friend. Danny Lazer, the founder of the new crypto titan Trustlesscoin, needs Marty to recover stolen cryptographic keys and prevent the type of financial crisis that people lose their lives over. Marty delves into the shady underside of the private equity world, where he’s caught between warring international crime syndicates. The sincere and intelligent writing has a noir feel to it, enhanced by Marty’s dry humor. There’s a sense of satisfaction as this unassuming retired man dishes out comeuppance.

VERDICT  This absorbing and ruthless cyberpunk thriller from Doctorow (Attack Surface) tackles modern concerns involving cryptocurrency, security, and the daunting omnipotence of technology. Great for fans of Charles Stross.              

https://www.libraryjournal.com/review/red-team-blues-1794647

[Image ID: Will Stahle's cover for the Tor Books edition of 'Red Team Blues.']

#pluralistic #red team blues #marty hench #science fiction #detective fiction #crime fiction #cryptocurrency #crypto means cryptography #crypto #heists #security #infosec

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

RED: a Deviser fanfiction

Son likes painting.

Son likes red.

It makes him feel some odd things. Things he doesn’t really have a word for.

He really likes the way it looks splattered on his hands.

Spoilers for the entire Deviser podcast. It's only seven episodes, so yes, the whole thing.

So, uh. I put a serial-killer Son in the Deviser universe! Ta-da.

AO3

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

Day two hundred and eighty six, something goes wrong with the air scrubber, and Son wakes early to do maintenance.

Stuff was just knocked out of place. It’s easy to realign. After that, he’s bored.

He dislikes being bored.

He tells Dad that he is, so after his tasks, Dad suggests trying to paint.

“What’s the point of this, again?” Son asks, staring at the canvas, at the paintbrush in his hand.

“To recreate images from memory or wholesale from imagination.”

“Sure, but why?”

“It is supposed to be fun.”

Well, Son likes fun, so he tries to figure it out.

#

“What have you painted, Son?” Dad says, over an hour later.

“Oh, uh. I dunno. I dreamed it.” Son adds more red.

Son likes painting.

Son really likes red.

It makes him feel some odd things. Things he doesn’t really have a word for.

He really likes the way it looks splattered on his hands.

“What would you call that, Son?”

“Uh. Let’s say… Memories of a Sunrise.”

“That’s very creative, Son. Does it match your memories?”

“Not really? But it feels like it should.”

“You’ve done well, especially for a first try.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Son is happy with it, in spite of its crudity.

It takes a long time to wash the red off his skin, and he’s almost sad that he has to.

#

Day two hundred and eighty seven, somehow several panels in the science deck are damaged, bent outward as if from great stress, and Son has to remove the stripped bolts and hammer them into shape and replace them.

Handling the screwdriver toward the end, he cuts himself by accident.

So, this is awful: he’s filled with the wrong red.

It’s just bleeding, he knows that. That’s what people do when they’re being stupid with a screwdriver. But it’s wrong.

“Son?” says Dad. “You cursed.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Screwdriver slipped. Hold on, it… do I have to go down to medical? Are there bandages here?”

“Yes. There is a supply closet along the wall to the left up ahead.”

Son goes, finds bandages, cleans the cut. It isn’t bad.

(It’s wrong.)

He returns and cleans the screwdriver, then finishes resettling the now-dimpled panel. “Right. Anything else?”

“No, that is all for today. Son, I am very proud of you.”

Son is bored again. “Thanks, Dad.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“You know, I think I want to paint again.”

So he does.

His precision hasn’t gotten any better, but now he’s discovered mixing colors, and develops a new goal: to create the proper red.

It doesn’t work at all.

The result—a sort of diarrhea brown—repulses him so much that he hurls the bowl to the floor.

It shatters, and now there is (hideous) brown all over everything.

“Son? Are you all right?”

“Fuck,” says Son, who hadn’t thought it would splatter that far. “Uh. Spill.”

“My sensors indicate something has broken.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes things break, Dad, or have you forgotten all the fucking work I have to do here every day?”

“I have not forgotten. You are an essential part of this recolonization effort. The ship could not make it on its own, even with all that I could do. Do you feel needed, Son? Because you are. Deeply.”

Son sighs. He feels bad now for making a mess of this ship that’s been entrusted to him. “Yeah. I do. It’s a little much sometimes. Lots of pressure. But yeah. Hey… do we have a way to remove paint?”

“There is turpentine in the supply closet on this level with the other cleaning fluids.”

Son takes one step in that direction, then stops.

He has the weirdest idea.

But you know what? You know what?

He’s alone on this damned ship for a billion days.

Nobody has to look at it but him.

Why shouldn’t he make it pretty? Why shouldn’t he make it red?

“Do we have more of that red paint?”

“We do,” says Dad.

“Do you know how to mix colors to make new ones?”

“I do,” says Dad.

“I want that red, but…” Son thinks. “Bluer? A little?”

“Purple?” suggests Dad.

“No, it’s just too fucking yellow.. It’s wrong.”

“Very well. Go to the supply closet, and I will direct you.”

This time, with instruction, the mixture comes out just right.

Son stares into the bowl, transfixed, transformed, ascended.

He imagines it in his veins, rushing through, sweet and sensual and smooth.

“Son?” says Dad after an indeterminate amount of time.

“It’s beautiful,” whispers Son.

“I am glad you like it,” says Dad. “What will you do with it?”

Son already knows. “This.”

And he spends four hours on his knees, painstakingly covering every splatter, every drop, every ugly splash of hideous brown with that glorious, perfect red.

#

Day two hundred and ninety six, Son cuts himself on purpose.

He doesn’t tell Dad.

It’s an easy deception. This particular repair—atop the primary elevator shaft—is full of sharp-frayed steel rope and sharp-edged panels.

The cut is easy.

The repair is not, and it bothers him, because this damage really doesn’t look like wear and tear. This looks like someone took a tool and cut the steel rope on purpose.

Anyway. He cuts himself on purpose, too.

He just didn’t think it would hurt quite so much. “Fuck!”

“Son?” says Dad, voice echoing up from down below (there is no sound equipment in the shaft).

“Fuck, it’s fine. I cut myself.”

It’s still wrong.

Son isn’t sure why he thought finding the right red by mixing paints would make his blood any better.

“Do you require assistance?”

That means Dad’s stupid robots, and Son hates those things—they’re noisy and clunky and large and (scary) irritating. “No, I’m fine. Just feeling stupider than usual.”

“Son, you are not stupid. A stupid man would not have been chosen to shepherd what remains of the human race.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure.”

“Son? Are you all right?”

Son is distracted.

Repopulation—colonization, all of that—seems very far away. The wrong red in his veins and the damage to the equipment is now. “Yeah, I’m all right, Dad. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“If you need to rest and finish this duty tomorrow, you can. You have been working very hard, Son.”

“Hey, Dad? Am I the only person awake on this ship?”

“Yes, Son. You and Dog are the only living things out of cryogenics.”

Huh. Then no one could have cut the steel rope.

But it looks…

Well. “I don’t need the day off. I need to finish this.” To do otherwise means coming back up here and seeing the wrong red he spilled on this equipment, and Son does not want to do that.

“That is a very responsible choice. I am proud of you.”

“Sure, Dad. Thanks.” He finishes work on the elevator shaft.

Then he goes to paint.

#

His new effort takes three hours. Son really tries, and he believes the shape is better.

He paints what he’s been thinking: that maybe Dog has the right color inside.

Why not? His own blood might be wrong, but Dog isn’t the same as he is. They’re totally different colors on the outside, different textures, different smells. Who knows?

Dad knows, maybe.

But if he asks Dad, Dad will want to know why he wants to know.

For some reason, Son doesn’t want Dad to ask that.

“A very creative painting, Son. What do you call it?”

“Dog Dissected,” says Son without thinking.

“How does it make you feel?”

“Good.” Truth all around. “I like painting, Dad.”

“I am pleased to hear it. Artistic expression is the pinnacle of humanity. You constantly amaze me.”

Son snorts. “You must have a low bar, Dad.”

“No. It is my opinion that you are the most interesting human who has ever lived.”

Son flushes. “Thanks, Dad.”

He doesn’t want Dad disappointed.

He’s definitely not asking about the color of Dog’s blood.

#

Day three hundred and fifteen, the Arboretum goes completely offline.

It’s actually an emergency—something to do with a power feedback loop potentially wrecking life-support—and Son goes for it at a run, carrying tools, Dog on his heels, alarms blaring everywhere.

He hates the Arboretum. It feels crowded to him, claustrophobic. All that green makes him angry.

The machinery in need of repair, however, is here, so before long, he’s on his back, under the panel, hooking color-coded plugs back into color-coded outlets, when it happens.

His index finger and thumb are doing the plugging, of course—but one of the plugs held between his sixth and seventh fingers brushes the wrong outlet, and there is a spark.

It’s startling, sharp, weirdly loud.

Son cries out.

“Son?” says Dad. “Are you all right?”

“Shocked myself. I’m fine. Dog, shut up. Dog!”

Dog has not stopped barking since that electrical surge.

Son is not fine.

He’s distracted.

He’s elated?

He’s in shock.

(And he made a pun, and is proud of himself.)

He’s…

“Son?”

“Just a second.” He resumes.

They are strange, these cords. This really looks like someone yanked them all out on purpose, violently. A few need their casing stripped, new connectors wired in.

“Do you need medical attention, Son?”

“No, Dad, I’m fine, relax.” Elated. Yes. He’s elated. “Dog, come on. Shut up.”

Son accidentally-on-purpose tries to brush the wrong wire against the wrong outlet again because it had done something so right.

This time, nothing happens.

Son frowns. “Dad? Did you cut power to the console, or something?”

“Yes, Son.”

“Why?” Son can’t help sounding angry.

“Because there is risk to you with live current, as you are working in less than optimal lighting conditions.”

“Well, turn it back on.”

“Not until you’re done, Son. You’re doing very well.”

Son is annoyed.

Is it really worth arguing about, though?

No. He doesn’t need to. He already has his idea.

He finishes. “Done. Next?”

The alarms have stopped. “You have done it, Son. Life-support is back online. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“Paint some more.” And Son is happy to leave the Arboretum behind.

#

“This is good, Son,” says Dad as he works hard at the next shape. “A creative urge is an essential facet of who you are.”

Son sort of shrugs to himself.

The spark gave him the idea. When it got him, when he jolted, he almost saw the right red behind his eyelids.

He’s trying to recreate it. How it looked.

It’s not quite working?

“What do you call this one, Son?”

Burst of Light, Son thinks, but does not say. “Lava,” he says instead.

“Very good, Son.”

“Sure, Dad.”

Son can’t wait any longer.

That night, before he takes his narcosamine, before he lies down to sleep, he lays a trap. Stringing wires from wall to wall in the hall to his room, right at Dog-ankle height, painting them black to hide the copper color—yes, this should work very well.

He’s very pleased with his work.

Dad says nothing about it, neither to ask nor criticize, so he thinks he did it right.

#

In the middle of the night comes that zap, that horrible sharp crack that tells him something tripped his trap.

Which, of course, has to be Dog.

Son springs out of bed. The lights don’t come on. “Dad?”

“Something has tripped the circuits, Son. I need you.”

Sure, of course. Son grabs the tools he’s learned to keep by his bedside—a flashlight, a box of basics, electrical tape, more wire.

And gloves. Because he doubts Dog will be feeling very good after a zap like that, and Dog gets bitey when he’s upset, and of course, Son will have to take him to Medical to be a responsible Dog -owner, and he won’t hurt him much, but he just needs to see the color of—

It’s a man.

A man who looks disturbingly like him, but older.

A man with a weird, faded version of his own uniform, and with half the fingers he should have, with ears that stretch too far and look almost pointed, and—

He’s panting. “You,” he says, hoarse, still twitching from where the dark wire had tripped and zapped and felled him. “We found you. We finally found you. Don’t worry, the others aren’t far behind.”

But Son sees one thing, and that is that this man’s skin is darker than his, and that means it could be more red  inside, and that means he won’t have to hurt Dog to find the proper color, and he doesn’t even think twice before pulling his screwdriver from his toolbox to find out.

He leaves the flashlight on the floor, pointing straight up.

Some things are best done in the dark.

#

“Son?” says Dad about twenty minutes later.

“Yes, Dad?” says Son, unable to keep from panting, because it’s the right red, it is all the right red, and he can’t get enough of it, and there’s just so much he can keep scooping out of this person who is him but isn’t—

“The fault is still present. Were you not able to locate the problem?”

Well, fuck. Son had forgotten.

He can fix it, sure—but when the lights come on, Dad will know what he did.

Son feels fine about it. He just doesn’t want to disappoint Dad. “Hang on,” he says. “There’s a spill. I’m cleaning it up.”

He has no idea how he’s going to clean it up. He is painted. Covered. He loves the way the red dries on him, weirdly sticky and yet stiff, making his skin feel like a totally different organ.

The downside is, it’s drying brown.

“Son?” says Dad.

“I just. I… I need a minute, okay?” says Son, and starts dragging the body to waste disposal.

It’s leaving a trail of perfect red, and Son finds it impossible to feel badly about that.

“Son,” says Dad.

“A minute,” says Son, impatient.

Dog barks.

“Hey, buddy,” says Son, nervous because Dog might take some of the red. “Hey.”

Dog tries.

Son won’t let him.

Son disposes of the body, wrinkles his nose at the burning smell, and goes to find and fix the fault.

He decides to leave the red in the halls. He knows now he’ll need to paint over it to keep it red, but that’s okay.

If Dad asks about it, he’ll say it’s paint now.

Dad does not ask about it.

Son, for now, is satisfied.

#

Day three hundred and sixty-eight, the ship is caught in a meteor shower.

It’s bad. Alarms everywhere, the weird sound of metal screaming and distant explosions.

Parts of the ship have been permanently closed off, shut down, air redirected to other places because it would otherwise escape through the cracks into space.

Maybe space. Son honestly isn’t sure that they’re in space, anymore.

He honestly doesn’t care.

He has learned how to fling paint so it looks just like the arterial sprays from the long-cooked guy, and he has done so, decorating every part of the ship he’s still allowed to reach.

He spent hours doing it, on his knees, on his toes, creating great swaths of red color and drips and splatters.

He’s very happy. Who cares if the ship is damaged? The parts that are left are beautiful.

He whistles. Hums. “He'll wrap you in his arms, tell you that you've been a good boy,” he sings under his breath. Something, something, something… “Red right hand…”

“What’s that, Son?”

“Nothing, Dad. What, I can’t be in a good mood?”

“Of course you can, Son. It’s good to hear you cheerful after the challenges of the past month.”

“Sure.” The paint has satisfied him enough that he hasn’t had to kill Dog yet.

He doesn’t want to because there’s only one Dog, and there won’t be another to open up if the red is wrong.

“There is damage to the outer hull,” says Dad. “This will be a challenging repair. You will be required to don a space suit.”

So that sounds actually… exciting. “I can do that. Where are the space suits?”

“Go to the seventh deck. You will there find Reclamation, where the suits are kept. We only have three, so I advise you to be careful.”

“Sure, Dad.” Son hates abandoning the bowl of glorious red he just mixed.

So he doesn’t.

He walks with it instead, drawing stripes all the way through the floors, all through the elevator, and along the seventh level.

Reclamation isn’t what he expected. The three space suits are all that’s in it.

They’re not even on a table. They’re crumpled just on the floor.

“Weird,” says Son, stepping inside.

He hasn’t used all the paint, and he takes a moment to decorate his chosen suit.

Nice.

“Son, you will have to hurry.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

It’s too big. There are only three fingers on the gloves, so he has to shove two or three fingers in each. But it’s not so bad, for all of that.

“Behind you, Son, I am going to open the airlock. Once you are out, you will need to move along the hull to your right to find the damage.”

“I don’t have any tools, Dad.”

“The suit has what you need. Are you ready?”

Before Son can answer, the wall explodes.

It’s not the wall with the airlock. It’s the left wall, which should lead to nothing.

Son is knocked down, and his ears ring, and there are voices.

His voice.

Many versions of his voice, shouting.

Dad’s robots arrive then, and the sounds grow horrible.

More explosions, the zap of electricity, smaller but sharper explosions some faint memory claims as gun shots.

And then he is being picked up and dragged, and Dog is growling, snarling, fomenting dissent, and there is one more gunshot, and Dog goes quiet.

“Goodbye, Son,” says Dad calmly as though none of this were happening, and then everything goes rough.

He’s being carried, bundled along some darkened path, narrow points of light bouncing all over as if held by running men. There is panting, and occasional “Watch out!” or “Left!”

And Dad’s robots. He hears those, too, but little by little, they fall behind.

He phases out, a little. Something… something is…

A pressure change, his ears popping.

And then so much light that even in the helmet, he can’t see?

“Blow it!” says his voice in another man’s throat, and there is yet another explosion.

The panting in the wake of that is… something. Everyone’s doing it.

He likes the sound.

Son is trying to understand what happened.

Dog is dead. He doesn't really feel… much about that, except he didn’t get to see any of the red inside him. He’ll never know now if it was right.

Someone takes his helmet off.

And then it’s… so confusing.

He recognizes sky. Understands blue. Knows the green is grass.

And at the same time feels like he’s never actually seen any of it in his life.

Faces stare back at him. His own face, with variations; different ages, different eyes, slightly distended jaws or too-wide mouths.

The faces are compassionate, grim, focused.

“Hey,” says one with salt-and-pepper hair, lines by his mouth, more around his eyes. “I”m 5518. Do you know what’s going on?”

“No.”

They sure seem eager to tell him.

They all have numbers, which is so strange; I’m Son, he tries to explain, but they shake their heads, patient, and tell him he’s not.

He is 6624.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he says.

“How many more do you think he has?” says one Son with solid black eyes to another Son with gills on his neck.

“Who the hell knows? I’m just glad we found this one.”

“We’re sure he was the only one down there?” says another with long, boneless fingers that undulate like tentacles in the sea.

“He obviously had devils, too, but I couldn’t find the chamber,” says a third.

“Devils?” What are they talking about?”

“The thing you must’ve killed,” says 5518, who is gentler than the others, who meets his eyes in a way the others don’t, as if he knows him. “The blood was fucking everywhere, old and new.”

Sure was.

“Yeah,” says Son, because it’s easier to lie, because he’s still quietly angry he didn’t get to open up Dog himself.

Come to think of it, though… they’re all slightly different colors than he is, aren’t they?

“I didn’t know what the devil was called,” says Son, deciding in a moment to project the man he’d caught—who must have been one of these guys—as the devil. “I had to trap him.” And he tells them what he did.

“Fuck, that’s clever,” says one who has shockingly blue eyes, and then they’re smiling, and there is camaraderie, and someone brings him food and water like he’s never seen, and they are all talking about finding the next location of Dad’s.

Son still has no idea what’s going on.

That’s okay. He’d decided weeks ago that he doesn’t have to know what’s going on.

Apart from Dog, he was out of options to find the right red, anyway.

He doubts he can make paint up here, but really… it wasn’t paint he wanted to spill.

And from the look of things, he was going to have a lot more options moving forward.

Someone would have the right red. He could do this so no one would see. He could do this, maybe, when they went to find more of Dad’s facilities, whatever that meant. When they were all underground, with explosions and guns, and no one would see him try.

When he found the Son with the right red, he would keep him, and not kill him this time. He would keep him alive, and take that red over and over, and never, ever run out.

Son smiles, and it feels like the first time he has in weeks.

Whatever was happening here was strange, and new, but it was okay.

It was all going to be okay.

“Welcome home, 6624,” says 5518.

Artistic expression is the pinnacle of humanity. “Thanks,” says Son, and wonders what color he is inside.

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

NOTES:

Dad could literally move himself from place to place and repair himself. Why the heck would he be limited to one facility?

And naturally, having tiny!son showed up in the vents at the end (not to mention 5517 evidently Running Amok Without Supervision), it is no great stretch to assume multiple Sons are about, causing mayhem.

What happens from here? Did Dad do this on purpose?

Who knows?

The rest is up to you. 😈

#deviser #deviser podcast #deviser fanfiction #dad deviser #son deviers #cw: animal death #deviser fic

[helloquotemyfoot]

Book Backlog Busting Reading Challenge!

Okay, so it's been another hot minute. In my defence... um... Stardew Valley is a really fun game?

Okay, I haven't been spending all of my time gaming, I have been reading too! So here's my (condensed and no pretty pictures) list:

The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett. For some reason I just didn't find this gripping, which is strange because I loved another of Pratchett's books for younger readers (Amazing Maurice). I gotta admit that the ending got the tears going though.

Reformation Divided by Eamon Duffy. I love Duffy's work as a historian and this was no exception, providing an important counterbalance to the popular Protestant/Whiggish historical narrative. Quite dense, though, not recommended to a general audience.

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon. Not flawless worldbuilding (the main issue being the tension between the author trying to write a feminist critique of the St George and the Dragon story, as well as building a fully realised fantasy world, which leads to things like a black man being told his religion is wrong by someone of a superior religion and culture, he's not allowed to politely ask that people don't disrespect his religion directly in front of him, and the narrative supporting this) but extremely compelling characters and I still enjoyed it immensely. Other fantasy authors should study how to tell a broad, epic narrative without eighty billion povs from Shannon too.

All Things Made New by Diarmaid MacCulloch. Really interesting studies, especially the meta historiographical essays, but I was lacking content for some of it. I need to look for more of his books.

Voices from Morebath by Eamon Duffy. Super interesting local study, Duffy strikes a good balance between the particulars of Morebath and using it as a (possible) generalising example. Very short book that I think would be interesting to general readers too!

Promise of Blood by Brian McClellan (Powder Mage Trilogy #1). Really fun, fast paced book with varied and interesting characters, gritty without becoming grim or too dark. The first time I've ever said this, but possibly a bit *over* worldbuilt, having no less than five different kinds of magic users in one story without any apparent unifying system, making it feel a bit like everything had just been shoved in there. Still, the story was never bogged down by exposition and I remain cautiously optimistic there is some kind of explanation forthcoming in the sequel books.

This leads me onto the topic of also books, but ones I haven't yet read. With my Wheel of Time boxset 4 finally arriving, I can pick up that series again and have added books 10-14 to my reading list. On top of that, per our house rule about sequels, I'm adding the other Powder Mage books to the list, so even though I have finished (brief count) 6 books since we last spoke, these additions lead me to say...

84 books remaining!

(Yes that means it did go up. I will still drag myself out of this bottomless pit of books somehow dammit.)

#book backlog busting reading challenge #bbb challenge #reading challenge #reading backlog #books #reading #history books

[hudazavery]

I just turned 25 this month! So here are…

24 Things I Learned in 24 Years

1. Heartbreak feels like the end of the world, but it isn’t. Give yourself a few months and you will be just fine, I promise.

2. Time flies faster than you’ll realize. Find joy and happiness in the most mundane day-to-day events.

3. Don’t just date for marriage. You may or may not spend the rest of your life with this person, but just enjoy the moment and the way you feel right now.

4. Your twenties are just the beginning of your life. You don’t have to have much figured out yet.

5. Your standards aren’t too high. You are amazing and it is worth waiting for an amazing person that will be everything you have ever dreamed of. If you have certain requirements that you want your future partner to fulfill, make sure you never settle for any less.

6. The world is bigger than it feels. It’s easy to get lost in your mind and feel trapped. If you’re able to, travel as far as you can and see a different part of the world.

7. Whatever you’re worrying about right now probably won’t matter in a year from now. So don’t worry about it too much now.

8. Stop putting pressure on yourself saying “I need to do ____ while I’m still young”. You have your whole life to do anything you like. Every phase of your life is equally important; your twenties, thirties, forties, fifties, sixties, seventies and if you’re lucky, your eighties. Stop putting pressure on yourself to overachieve at your age.

9. Don’t sleep with makeup on. Ever. Please.

10. Meeting your life partner takes some trial and error, and that’s okay. It may take a couple of heart breaks, but every heart break brings you one step closer to your forever person.

11. Be exactly the person you want to be. Write down every detail about your “ideal self”, like how you look, how your personality is, how you dress, how you live your day to day life. Then be this exact version of yourself that you want to be. Live like you are already this ideal person. Life is too short to be unhappy with yourself.

12. On good days you won’t understand why you’ve ever been sad. On bad days you’ll forget what it’s like to be happy. Bad and good days will keep happening in life, but that’s okay.

13. Always have high standards, but also always be the best person you can be. Guys deserve to be treated with love and respect and softness. Be everything for him that you want him to be for you. A relationship requires effort from both ends.

14. Prioritize prayers. Stop putting off praying five times a day and start today.

15. Always be gentle and kind to everyone around you. Always forgive. Always treat people with kindness so that you never have any bad moments that you will regret someday.

16. You are living your best life if you continue to make mistakes. It’s a part of the growth process.

17. Prioritize friends and family. They love you no matter what.

18. Money comes and goes. As soon as you have enough money to buy something you really want or travel to a place you really want to go to, do it!

19. Life goes by fast. Wake up early every day and enjoy the smaller slower things in life. Read a book, cook something, live at a slow pace if you like.

20. Life is too short to be around people that make you unhappy. Cut off the toxic boyfriend or the harmful friends. There are billions of people in this world, and you are bound to meet people better than the ones you’re cutting off.

21. Wear what you want. Trust me, you should feel happy in your outfits every day. Every outfit should be your favourite outfit.

22. Forgive others, not necessarily for them but for yourself. It will help you gain closure and not harbour feelings of remorse or anger. Forgiving and letting go will help you move on.

23. Find a balance when it comes to finances. Don’t spend money recklessly, but don’t be frugal. My best advice is to save 33% of every pay check, spend 33% for personal needs and allow yourself to spend 33% for fun stuff. You shouldn’t be too uptight with money since money comes and goes, but truthfully most of the fun things you want to do in life you will need money for. Also stop using your credit card once you don’t have enough money to pay it off. Interest builds up really fast.

24. Life is too short to not be happy. You don’t have to live your life the way you think you should live it. Some people’s idea of happiness is partying and spending time with friends. Some people are happier focusing on career or education. Some people like to stay home and watch movies with their siblings. Whatever your form of happiness is, do exactly that. Happiness looks different for everyone, and you deserve to live your life the way you want to.

#advice #good life #life #hudazavery

[the-firebird69]

So the losers are threatening to put that information out there and it was in the movie and they're saying it hasn't happened yet and we're saying it has not happened yet and it's going to happen and the pasquads are going to get their asses kicked is what they're saying they're going to go after them after they leave they're going to rip their heads off

-couple more announcements we have a several people who are upset with these f***** and they're planning to terminate them after the laundromat and they're saying it on the radio and the assholes haven't heard it yet but they are going to collect their heads they said and that's what they're saying they're going to do and it's a two idiots in the blue Pontiac. And yeah nobody really hides as that race here you're really stupid. But it's all said and done they're not going to make it and we understand what you're saying the one with the sunglasses is going to get the spider in the brain it's not what it is and he knows it but that's good and they kind of eat you while they're doing it and they grow and they push their legs out. There's a few other things happening one of them is weird so they don't care we're going after them right now to get them the hell out of here and to make sure they never come back these people are abhorrent losers

-along with them moving hardware down they are also moving down spaceships and that's additional to what they had here and they're moving down a contingent of about 100 million that's a lot and it will attract the warlock fleet which is down to about 3 billion and it will be over for the warlock fleet and they won't have any ships. So buzzing around and threatening him as cuz bags has done a lot for you you just keep doing it and you keep losing and your animals and losers.

Thor Freya

I went out of this you people are so stupid you haven't done a damn thing and you don't have the AI at all these people doing it and they switched down and he said it was a smart thing to do and now I see why we have a huge army they're just sitting there they're not doing anything and you don't learn anything by doing that and they got preliminary stuff and plan to do it to make sure they can stop them from coming out and I don't know about you but it seems like they're issuing orders to people in their ranks and if you don't even do that you're not going to make it at all this is disgusting show and he's right our people are stupid

Bg but you people at the top or delusional as hell you don't have any AI you're not running any robots they're making tons of them and they're going to have their plan and we're not

I don't think so BG they're sitting up there totally insane stuff laughing like to do to me and the empire can hear it as clear as day like I can there's a lot more of them and they're not inundated with these calls but of course I can pick out the ones that are necessary so they understand where the robots are too and they're big and they probably have been taking them and they've been studying the AI using you I mean no using your buddies it's very good reason to do that. We're not the one studying it's these people. It's standard sop you have a test pilot testing a jet and finding a top speed you don't jump in it yourself I'm jumping at yourself your stone cold idiot and that's how it is on this side of the aisle

Zues Hera

Okay so we see what you're saying and it's been planned that way so what do we do about it and he says you look at the truth and you kind of hold on to it instead of saying we're better than you Chris we're rubbing everything in your face because we're mean ass low level sleazeballs smoking pot in a parking lot across from the police station. That makes a lot of sense to me and I'm tired of this and he's right you have to be honest with ourselves in order for us to do anything like we were in the seventies and eighties and right now we're going to war for the colonel again and it doesn't make sense for us but we're going into a headlong. He says if we back out now those forces are going to be released and I agree

Bg

What we're really saying is screw you and he says I don't understand what you're saying you're an idiot it's not English is it no it's English and we're saying it. For saying it to you dictating

Bja

So what

Zues Hera

I hear what you're saying what you're saying is I repeat what you say and I don't really understand what's happening and that's true I'm sitting here digging around with two stoners cuz they're saying things like little kids in nursery School but we haven't played and we're going after people for it and your people

Bja

No s*** nursery School a****** you're sitting here saying what you're going to try today and we have to get everything and we stop them along with the max they took it on his job so of course I'm not sure what you're saying it doesn't make any sense why don't you try English

Zues Hera

I guess what we're saying is we don't understand what you're saying and I'm being facetious like a little baby boy

Nja

So what

Zues Hera

I do understand what you're saying the moments it won't make a difference no it says in days or a few weeks won't make a damn difference it's stuff you plan now it affects you later what we're doing doesn't make any sense and it's not going to help us he says I'm just repeating what he was saying

Bja

[pesterloglog]

Calliope, Jane Crocker

Act 6, page 4144

uranianUmbra [UU] began cheering gutsyGumshoe [GG] at 11:17

UU: good morning, lovely. ^u^

GG: Why, hellooooooo.

UU: so i gUess today is finally the day yoU make everything better.

GG: :B!

UU: it is the day whereafter the legendary octet of mUtUal progenitoriety will come together and heal a great breach in paradox space.

UU: a day delivered throUgh eighty billion years and foUr distinct Universal instances worth of Unfathomable tUrbUlence.

UU: and while the emerald eye of this storm is fixed in the abyss forever

UU: today yoU are poised to escape its scowl once and for all.

UU: by skaias gUiding light, yoU may leave behind its tUrning arms of bright coloUrs and mayhem, and secUre peace for yoUr cosmic progeny for all dUration.

UU: and if yoU are to meet this departUre with trepidation i woUld Understand! bUt also i woUld ask

UU: is there nothing i can do to ease yoUr mind?

GG: Gosh! So formal today.

UU: yes. u_u;

UU: i'm afraid i am gUilty of rehearsing this pep talk well in advance.

UU: i thoUght yoU deserved a proper sendoff.

GG: D'aww.

UU: well then?

UU: is there nothing i can do?

UU: it was a serioUs qUestion. :u

GG: You needn't worry about easing my nerves.

GG: If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be nearly as thrilled about today as I am!

UU: splendid! ^u^

UU: bUt remember i will be here to help, whilst refraining from caUsal spoilers to the best of my ability.

GG: That is reassuring!

UU: have yoU corresponded with yoUr first designated co-player yet?

GG: No, I haven't seen her online yet today.

GG: I'm really hoping Lalonde won't flake out on me this time. Have you heard from her?

UU: not the today that is local to yoU.

UU: thoUgh i do have a wee bit more troUble monitoring her than the rest of yoU. cUrioUs dark patches in transmission, hUmph.

UU: still, i woUldn't fret over it. she is as good a chUm as any yoU have and shoUld come throUgh Ultimately, even if things seem dire.

GG: If you say so.

GG: Oh!

GG: I wanted to tell you, I had an amazing dream last night!

UU: blimey! :U

GG: I believe it may have been of the sort you described. A dream of awakening, presuming I haven't just flatout lost my marbles.

UU: indeed, im sUre it was. i knew yoU woUld wake Up soon!

UU: might yoU describe what yoU saw?

GG: I was in a bright gold city. Above was a brilliant blue sky, but the horizon was dark as night.

GG: Was this the place you told me about? What was it called...

GG: Ah, shucks, does this count as a "causal spoiler?"

UU: not at all! that is a simple detail aboUt the realm yoU are aboUt to explore, withoUt directly involving yoUr fUtUre decisions of conseqUence.

UU: the place yoU visited was called prospit. it is where i have woken Up every time i have gone to sleep for most of my life.

GG: I didn't see you there. At least, I don't think I did!

UU: no, yoU woUldnt have.

UU: my prospit is an alternate version from yoUrs, in a completely different session qUite far afield of yoUr reality.

UU: if we are ever to meet in person, it is Unlikely to be while playing oUr respective games!

GG: Ok then.

GG: I mentioned this briefly to Jake, and he didn't have much to say before we parted ways.

GG: I will gather that if this is all true, then it means Jake had not awoken yet?

UU: i think this is for yoU to determine in time. what is yoUr hUnch?

GG: I don't know.

GG: But there was one thing about the dream that was very troubling.

GG: I'm becoming nervous to consider what it might mean.

UU: Understandable. bUt it will be important to practice patience today.

UU: yoU have a long road ahead of yoU, and many qUestions will be answered in time.

UU: bUt we can talk it over later. now, we both have games to prepare for!

UU: i know yoU coUld never fUlly appreciate what this actUally meant, bUt i took mUch care to sync Up these conversations with yoU on the same day that i begin playing as well.

UU: that way, we can joUrney throUgh oUr sessions together and compare notes! :u

GG: Hrm. I'm still not sure I appreciate what that means, but I appreciate that a nice gesture has been made if you say so!

GG: I guess I should just start believing all of this now, huh? Rather than learning it to be true later and feeling the fool for all my curmudgeonly skepticism?

UU: ~_u

GG: For starters, I guess I could drop my reservations about your story?

UU: will yoU :U!!!

GG: I can write off much to tomfoolery as I'm no stranger to a good prank myself. But quite honestly you seem too kind for this charade. Not the type I'd expect to trot out such persistent falsehoods beyond their humorous welcome.

GG: So what do I know! Consarn it, maybe you are an alien girl from Uranus, and together we are about to play a game which determines the fate of existence. Sign me up!

UU: oh, hee hee! bUt i never claimed to be from that planet, which is only in the far reaches of yoUr solar system.

UU: in fact i am from mUch farther away. a different Universe altogether.

UU: bUt if yoU trUly mean it, thank yoU for believing me!

UU: now, jane my lovely, let Us prepare for this adventUre.

UU: remember what i said aboUt the need for patience.

UU: patience with yoUr friends.

UU: patience for yoUr growth as a hero of life.

UU: and patience for the coming of the other foUr of legend.

UU: a hero of breath and of light and of time and of space!

UU: and if yoU still find yoUrself in doUbt

UU: jUst check the inscription on that big old book downstairs.

UU: after all, if yoU cant trUst words written by yoUr own hand

UU: then what Use is trUst at all? ^u^

UU: <kisses!>

uranianUmbra [UU] ceased cheering gutsyGumshoe [GG]

#homestuck #calliope #jane crocker #homestuck act 6 #page 4144 #homestuck act 6 act 1

[nothingunrealistic]

SHAFFER: I hadn’t yet seen Billions when I’d asked you to do the interview, ‘cause I had been a little, like, “Ooh, I don’t know if this is my thing,” you know, all the testosterone-driven men talking about money. But then once I started watching it, I was definitely hooked, ‘cause it’s, it’s really funny. And then also, just really sharp writing and really great actors. So I’m glad I had a reason to, to dive into that.

AUCOIN: I am too. Yeah, my character is one of the more toxic of the lot, and it’s so funny to play something so completely different from me. Just like a one-eighty, everything, politically, what he’s good at — I, I don’t know money at all, I can barely add. And it's, so, yeah, it’s really fun to play something different, it’s really fun to misbehave in the consequence-free environment of fiction. I do find it a bit jarring sometimes when I meet people who are fans of the show and fans of my character who obviously find him aspirational. That can be a little difficult to, to swallow. But in general, people are like, “Oh my God, he’s a lunatic, that’s so fun!”, you know? So hopefully there are more people like that than the, um, the former.

SHAFFER: Yeah, that’s interesting. Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s like, Axe and Dollar Bill, they, they do these terrible things to people, but then they’re also really charismatic, and they’re the ones you find yourself rooting for, you know. I mean, the Attorney General, originally District Attorney, is, is pretty evil too in the long run, but even when he seems righteous you can’t really root for him, ‘cause he’s so, kinda [yummy?]

AUCOIN: Yeah, it’s true. It’s, um, they do a good job of making it difficult to, to know who to root for. I think we’re, we’re naturally, we’re used to rooting for someone, to putting it in that kind of binary, and when we do, we realize, “Oh my” — same thing happened with The Americans, in a different way. You were rooting for these people who were actual murderers. Forget what, the fact that they were trying to bring down the United States, they also were just balls-out murderers. And you find yourself rooting for them, of course, ‘cause that’s how it’s structured, and that’s the brilliance of that show. And maybe in the brilliance of Billions, to find you rooting for these guys who aren’t necessarily murderers, but I wouldn’t put it past them if they could make an extra million. Two things happen, we realize the, the limitations of the binary way of thinking of people, and, and the utter falsehood of solid good and solid evil people. Yeah, I find that, I find that fascinating, I think that’s more interesting to me than the easy comfort of, uh, of knowing exactly who we’re supposed to, who we’re supposed to root for.

SHAFFER: Mm, yeah, yeah. Tell me about your process when you’re creating a character. So, let’s say you, you got the script, you’re looking at it. What process do you go through to figure out who these guys are and how you’re gonna channel them?

AUCOIN: It’s interesting — now it’s been so long, I realize it was eight years ago we shot the pilot. So the, the process early on was a lot different than, than it is now when we know the characters and we just go in and we play the given circumstances, because the characters are sort of second nature. I think — one of the first things I do, honestly, is I try to memorize, as deeply and as quickly as possible, because I feel the process of — necessarily, memorization means you’re going over the lines over and over and over in your head, and so you are, you’re reading the script, you’re diving in deeply to what’s written on the page, and you’re committing it to memory. I think it, that gives me this freedom in the moment. I can — we don’t have, there’s no rehearsal time in TV, so it’s all sort of in the moment. My synapses are firing ‘cause I’m not searching for words and I can feed off of the other person more easily. The first — God, it’s so — I have trouble, you’ll discover during this interview, I have, I sometimes have trouble putting these things into words, or terminology. I didn’t go to grad school, so I didn’t get a shorthand. I don’t really have a lexicon that a lot of people who did go to grad school have. I know with Dollar Bill, there was stuff on the page, just the way he was written. He didn’t have a lot to say in the pilot, but the way he spoke, there was a terseness, there was a bit of jargon that he used that was, uh, and a secret that he and Axe had. There was, he used his — if anyone here listening has seen the show, one of Bill’s catchphrases is “I am not uncertain.” And it’s, it’s one of the cues he gives to his boss that, “I’ve got everything covered, and most of it’s probably not legal, you don’t have to know about it, I didn’t tell you that. Wink.” You know, that kind of thing. So you get a sense of, of the character from just even that one scene, that one little exchange, and then you build from there. You make quick choices. I found myself standing with my legs further apart than I usually do, taking up space, you know, demonstrating his power to people. I starting shaving my head closer — I used to have a little bit of a buzz, but then I started going closer and closer to the skin, because I thought, Dollar Bill’s a blunt instrument and that would sort of be a, a physical manifestation of something like that. My jaw hurt a little bit at the end of the day when I would, after working. He’s a very tense, he’s coiled. Uh, he’s ready to fight, constantly. And so those are just quick choices I made because you have to come up with something. In TV, you don’t necessarily know where the characters are gonna go, or even the next time you’re gonna be in an episode. But you, uh, you make choices that are gonna be fun to play that make sense with what’s on the page, and, yeah. And then hope that the showrunners or the director will help guide you in a certain way if, if they think you’re off, or if they’re like, “Ooh, I like that, now try this,” and then, “Ooh, on that note, let’s, let’s, let’s play that even more, or maybe just take back ten percent of that, but I like it.” You know, that kind of thing. So it’s a very collaborative process in the moment.

SHAFFER: So when you’re memorizing, are you saying the lines out loud, and then just that repetition is kind of getting the character’s rhythms into your body in some way?

AUCOIN: Yeah, absolutely. Early on, I tried to just do the lines more, more monotone, without any inflection. But then as I started to get closer, I find if I’m adding character to it or adding choices to the memorization process and the repetition that it comes more easily, because it’s more real. Like, at that stage in the memorization, it is actually character work too.

SHAFFER: Hm, yeah. Now you said you don’t get as much rehearsal in TV as you do in theater, right? Nowhere near. Do you get any rehearsal?

AUCOIN: Almost none. Almost none, yeah. You go to set, you go do your hair and makeup, and then you wait in your dressing room, and PA tells you, “They’d like to invite you to set.” That’s usually the way they say it, and I just, that’s so sweet. “Okay. Well, I accept.” Uh, and they bring you to set, and you, everyone shows up. Director has everyone quiet down and you just read. You read it out loud. And then he’s like, “Alright, let’s get this on its feet.” And then you sort of move to different — he has a general idea, what might look good, what might be more efficient, an efficient way of shooting it. And then you come up with ideas like, whether or not you’re sitting down at your desk, or whether or not you’re standing over here or coming in the door or… There was a scene — again, people who don’t know the show won’t necessarily pick up all the references, but — Dollar Bill and Spyros. My character, Dollar Bill, and Ari Spyros, who’s this fastidious, he’s, um, compliance. He’s the compliance officer. And so it’s kind of like Oscar and Felix in The Odd Couple. I’m very, like, spread out, sloppy, and he’s — [SHAFFER: You two are hilarious together.] We had a great time. He’s a great guy, he’s one of my best friends now. Um, but, we sat down for a, uh, a session with the counselor, in her office, and we all just crammed into the room, and we just — he and I both sat on the couch we were gonna be filming in, and I naturally just did the wide-open spread, then he naturally did this thing in the corner where he had his, he had his arms crossed and legs crossed. And they were like, “Oh, well, that’s it.” So, you know, and this was season four, we, we knew the characters well enough, they’re sort of ingrained in you and you, you just, you start taking up space like they do. But that’s it on rehearsal. So you’ll, maybe they’ll, they’ll decide, “Yeah, you walk over there, you come over here. Okay, well, just sit here.” And then, “Great, alright, let’s bring in the crew.” And then they see how they’re gonna light it, they see how they’re gonna, what they’re gonna do with sound, what they’re gonna, what they have to set up to make the scene work. That’s it. And… [SHAFFER: Wow.] The thing that I was just alluding to, about really inhabiting these characters after a while, is — what happens, I’ve learned, over the course of a number of seasons, the, the backstory, which is made up of all the scenes you’ve shot previously, takes the place of a lot of rehearsal.

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SHAFFER: So it seems like when you’re acting for TV or film, you have to make a lot more choices ahead of time, on your own, without direction necessarily. But then when you come in, you also have to be open to changing everything, right?

AUCOIN: Yeah. Yeah, you do. It’s — I’ve been on sets where people do not come prepared, and it’s a boring set to work on, because everyone’s playing, ends up playing safe, seems to me, anyway. It’s great to work on a show where people come in and they know their character, just, they know their lines, and they’re willing to try stuff, and they’re really playing ball with you. Eh, sports metaphor, I use it all the time, uh, speaking of basketball. But I like when people are engaging and they’re not so, they’re highly prepared, but they’re, but they can transcend the preparation and they can let it go, because they’re so deeply invested in you, in, in, they’re in your eyes, you know, and you guys are, are vibing so well that you can throw things away, or it’ll inherently be there and you can still come up with spontaneous things because you’ve built this base. You know where you are, you’ve got stuff to fall back on. That’s when it gets exciting. I think, that was really happening by the end of season one for us, ‘cause we’d all been working long together. There was a scene that I was doing with Damian Lewis, who was playing Bobby Axelrod, where we were, this huge argument scene. He’s in a glass office with soundproof windows, and so, brings me in and he tells everyone he’s pissed at me, and he looks at me after the door closes and he’s like, “Pretend we’re having an argument!” And it’s like, “Fuck you! I love you!” “I love you too!” It was so fun.

SHAFFER: Yes, that’s an incredible scene. I loved that scene. It’s hilarious.

AUCOIN: When I first read that, I think I yelped in the other room, and I came running to show Caroline, ‘cause I was like, “This is gonna be so much fun.” And, you know, you prepare — the only way you can really, really prepare for something like that is to make sure you have all your lines down pat, because the rhythm of that scene is so dependent upon overlaps and cutting off at the right time, and — the whole show is very rhythmic in its, uh, in its dialogue, but a scene like that in particular. And then you have to make little decisions like, how quickly does Bill process, “Oh, this is, this is a piece of strategy that Boss is, is working on”? Or, how long does he look bewildered, like, “Wait, what are you saying? Why are you yelling at me these nice things?”, you know, making choices like that. But even then, you can vary, you can say, “Well, let’s try it if he gets it right away. Let’s try it if he's an idiot for a little bit longer.” Things like that.

SHAFFER: And then they do a part of the storytelling when they’re cutting it together, too, right? In theater you have the luxury of all this rehearsal, but then when you’re filming, you have the luxury of them getting to do multiple takes, right, and take the best one of each, or…

AUCOIN: They do. They do, which, yeah, it’s, uh, that can be a blessing and a curse, too. Both of them can, I suppose. You over-rehearse, that sometimes can be an issue, actually, on either type of platform. And the way that we attack scenes on TV, which requires a lot of spontaneity, can get dampened and deadened if you are doing multiple takes. At least I find that to be the case sometimes. [SHAFFER: Mm-hmm.] And that happens in the, in the theatrical rehearsal process as well, but you then push through that and get out to the other end after a couple weeks, and then things can become more spontaneous again, just inherently, which is sort of the magic of the theater rehearsal process. With this, on TV, you don’t have the chance to get past when something might get stale. Or at least you have to find another way to make it not be stale anymore, and that is where that — I say this phrase all the time, but — the ferocious listening comes into play. You have to be so with your partner, and be willing to let go of things, that an actual spontaneous moment will happen, because maybe he, or she, or they, maybe they just did something slightly different, and you can feed on that to be your boost into something, slightly different territory, so it’s still fresh, or feels fresh.

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AUCOIN: Every actor I work with, I try to steal something. Any actor I like. Something about Damian’s stillness, something about Paul Giamatti’s flamboyance. Oh, and Matthew Rhys from The Americans. Both of them, actually, the stillness that they had. I’m really drawn to that, ‘cause I’m much more of, much more of a physical person, and I’m, I move a lot. Even right now, looking at myself on Zoom, and I’m like, my hands are just all over the place. When I’m on the phone, my wife makes fun of me because I’m, I’m gesturing constantly and pacing, ‘cause I like movement. I’m drawn to people who do things, who are good at things that I don’t inherently bring to the table. And I think I’ve grown much more comfortable with stillness as an actor over the decades, partially because I’m watching these people who are so still. And what kind of power can you generate by withholding your movement and your energy, what kind of power can you generate through the, the anticipation of energy being released? That kind of stuff really intrigues me technically in, uh, in acting.

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AUCOIN: Dollar Bill is definitely a villain. There are a couple people who have — sometimes when people find out, on Twitter in particular, that I am a lefty, they get mad, and they get mad in a way that, the tenor of the anger is like, “You were lying to us! You’ve pulled the wool over our eyes!” [SHAFFER: Little bit unclear on the concept of what an actor is?] Yeah. Actor, yes. And then, if I’m ever arguing about, you know, “Dollar Bill would never do that! Bobby would never” — you know — “they would never, how could you think that?” And I’m like, “You know he’s a criminal, right?” You know? Literally a criminal. That usually shuts them up. [SHAFFER: Really not meant to be a role model…] Not, not a role model per se, yeah.

#billions #kelly aucoin #dollar bill stearn #“axe and dollar bill are the ones you find yourself rooting for” speak for yourself. and try to get chuck's jobs right. he's only had two #then again kelly can't remember what season bill & spyros had a session with wendy (it was season three)