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insanityclause · 3 years

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It’s been a long, long time since Broadway last held a Tony Awards ceremony.

Tonight, after a 27-month hiatus, the event honoring Broadway’s best plays and musicals is back.

There will be plenty of awards — there are 25 competitive categories this year — and lots of speeches.

But the thrust of the evening is a little different: reminding viewers that Broadway has reopened after a disastrously long pandemic shutdown, and hoping that a showcase of show tunes and sentiment will persuade audiences to return. There are now 15 productions running on Broadway, and that number is growing every week, but the pandemic is not over, and tourism remains down, so the industry is looking for a boost.

The event is part streaming, and part network.

This year’s Tony Awards are taking place, live and in-person, at Broadway’s Winter Garden Theater, starting at 7 p.m. Eastern, and scheduled to end at 11.

Most of the awards will be announced during the first two hours, at a ceremony hosted by the six-time Tony winner Audra McDonald. That segment of the evening will be viewable only on the streaming service Paramount+.

The second half of the evening will consist of a concert at which stars of the theater world will perform classic and contemporary show tunes. That portion of the event, called “The Tony Awards Present: Broadway’s Back!,” will be hosted by Leslie Odom Jr. (a Tony winner for “Hamilton”) and broadcast on CBS, and it will include three big awards, for best musical, best play and best play revival.

Because the coronavirus pandemic is ongoing, the ceremony is restricted in many ways.

The red carpet is shorter than usual. There is no official after-party. (A request for a permit to hold one on the street was rejected by the city.)

And the audience watching in person will be limited — the Winter Garden holds 1,500 people, compared to 6,000 at Radio City Music Hall, where the event was often held in previous years. All of the attendees must show proof of vaccination, and they are being asked to wear masks throughout the event.

The awards ceremony will honor plays and musicals that opened during a pandemic-shortened eligibility period — from April 26, 2019, to Feb. 19, 2020. Only 18 shows were eligible for awards — about half as many as usual — and only 15 scored nominations.

The most-nominated shows are the musicals “Jagged Little Pill,” with 15, “Moulin Rouge! The Musical,” with 14, and “Tina — The Tina Turner Musical,” with 12, as well as “Slave Play,” which with 12 is the most-nominated play in Tonys history.

The ceremony, originally scheduled to take place in June 2020, has been repeatedly delayed and rethought; the nominations, chosen by 41 theater experts who saw every eligible show, were announced last October, and electronic voting, by 778 producers, performers and other industry insiders, took place in March. The ballots were stored by the accounting firm Deloitte & Touche LLP, which somehow has managed to keep them secret ever since.

There are several unusual aspects to this season’s Tonys race.

All of the nominees for best score are plays — an odd situation caused by the fact that three of the four musicals that opened before the pandemic were jukebox musicals, meaning they did not have original scores, and the fourth was shut out by nominators.

In one category, best leading actor in a musical, there is only one nominee, Aaron Tveit of “Moulin Rouge!” He will win if he gets a positive vote from 60 percent of those who cast ballots in that race.

A starry concert will dominate the televised portion of the evening.

The Broadway League and the American Theater Wing, the two organizations that present the Tony Awards, decided, in discussions with CBS, that the portion of the evening with the broadest reach — that is, on network television — would be primarily a concert.

The goal is to highlight Broadway’s talent, and to remind viewers of the pleasures of live theater, with the hope that some of those viewers will then buy tickets to a show as theaters in New York (and around the world) seek to rebuild audiences.

What kinds of performances can you expect?

There will be, as per tradition, a razzly-dazzly opening number, led by Odom, at the start of the concert, celebrating Broadway and its shows.The evening will appeal to theater lovers’ nostalgia: Jennifer Holliday will recreate her performance of “And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going” from “Dreamgirls” (which opened in 1981); Audra McDonald and Brian Stokes Mitchell are expected to perform from “Ragtime” (1998); Marissa Jaret Winokur and Matthew Morrison from “Hairspray” (2002); and Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel from “Wicked” (2003).

Each of the productions nominated for the best musical Tony Award — “Jagged Little Pill,” “Moulin Rouge!” and “Tina” — will perform, as always, but this year those performances were recorded in advance inside the theaters where those musicals are running. (Why? To reduce the cost to the pandemic-damaged productions. In ordinary years, producers spend several hundred thousand dollars per musical to staff and stage live numbers at the Tony Awards.)

Two shows that are receiving special Tony Awards will also present live performances. David Byrne will lead the cast of “American Utopia,” his concert show that is now running, for a second time, on Broadway, while Lin-Manuel Miranda will be featured in a closing sketch from “Freestyle Love Supreme,” the improv group he co-founded, which is scheduled to begin its second Broadway run on Oct. 7, followed by a national tour starting in San Francisco.

What else? John Legend will perform with the cast of “Ain’t Too Proud,” a jukebox musical about the Temptations that is slated to resume performances on Broadway on Oct. 16. Daniel J. Watts, a Tony nominee for “Tina,” is expected to perform a spoken-word tribute to the Broadway Advocacy Coalition, which is receiving a special Tony Award for its work on racial justice. And, at some point, Ben Platt and Anika Noni Rose are expected to pay tribute to high school theater students with a song from “Sunday in the Park With George.

”Plenty of other boldface names will be taking part in the broadcast, either as presenters or performers, including Darren Criss, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Jordan Fisher, Andrew Garfield, Josh Groban, Jake Gyllenhaal, Cyndi Lauper, John Lithgow, Bernadette Peters, Lea Salonga, Black Thought and many others.

The awards show is being executive produced by Ricky Kirshner and Glenn Weiss, who have put the ceremony together for years. Weiss is also directing the event, and it is being choreographed by Sergio Trujillo, a Tony winner for his work on “Ain’t Too Proud.”

The nominees for best musical are all jukebox shows.

The three nominees for best musical are “Jagged Little Pill,” “Moulin Rouge! The Musical” and “Tina — The Tina Turner Musical.”All of them are jukebox musicals — meaning that their scores consist of previously recorded pop songs — and all of them opened in 2019.

The three nominated musicals are reopening this fall. “Moulin Rouge!,” which is an adaptation of the 2001 Baz Luhrmann film, began performances on Friday; “Tina,” which is a biomusical about the life and career of Tina Turner, returns Oct. 8; and “Jagged Little Pill,” a contemporary family drama inspired by the Alanis Morissette album, returns Oct. 21.

Only one show with an original score opened before the pandemic — “The Lightning Thief” — but it was shut out by nominators. Several other musicals with original scores were slated to open in 2020, but didn’t make it to opening night before theaters shut down.A fourth jukebox musical, “Girl From the North Country,” opened right before the shutdown but was deemed ineligible for awards because not enough Tony voters managed to see it. That show, a drama inspired by the songs of Bob Dylan, is scheduled to resume performances Oct. 13.

There are no nominees for best musical revival, because the only one that opened before the pandemic, “West Side Story,” also was not seen by enough voters. And now that production is over — its producers have decided not to reopen it.

Keep an eye on the play categories for some drama.

As hard as it may be to believe, the last time a play by a Black writer won the Tony Award for best play was in 1987, when August Wilson won for “Fences.”

That could change this year, when the leading contender is “Slave Play,” a daring drama by Jeremy O. Harris that uses an imaginary form of couples therapy to explore the lingering impact of slavery. The play scored more Tony nominations — 12 — than any in history; it won strong review from critics and managed to achieve a level of buzz that is rare for any play, although, like most plays, it ended its run without recouping its capitalization costs.

But “Slave Play” was also polarizing, leaving an opening for another drama to claim the prize. The most likely upset would be by “The Inheritance,” a two-part drama by Matthew López about two generations of gay male New Yorkers. That play was heralded in London, but was greeted with far more skepticism in New York; its run was also unprofitable, and was cut a few days short by the pandemic.

The most likely winner in the category of best play revival will be “A Soldier’s Play” or “Betrayal.”

“A Soldier’s Play” is a 1981 drama by Charles Fuller, about the murder of a Black sergeant in the U.S. Army, that won the Pulitzer Prize when it was first published. It was then adapted into a Hollywood film, but didn’t make it to Broadway until 2020. The production, directed by Kenny Leon, starred Blair Underwood and David Alan Grier, and was presented by the nonprofit Roundabout Theater Company.

“Betrayal” is a 1978 play by Harold Pinter about an extramarital affair. The revival was a commercial production, transferred from London, directed by Jamie Lloyd and starring Tom Hiddleston.

And what about the actors?

Eight acting prizes will be given out tonight — four for work in musicals, and four for work in plays.

The musical prizes all have heavy favorites, and the favorites would all be first-time Tony winners.

Look for Adrienne Warren to win the leading actress in a musical prize for her superhuman performance as Tina Turner in “Tina,” and for Lauren Patten to win as featured actress for her showstopping vocals in “Jagged Little Pill.”

Aaron Tveit, the only nominee for leading actor, should easily pick up that prize for playing the bohemian Christian in “Moulin Rouge!” (he needs to win support from 60 percent of those who cast ballots in the category to do so), while his co-star, Danny Burstein, is the favorite in the featured actor category, for playing the impresario Harold Zidler.

The play categories are thought to be much tighter, in part because there are fewer voters — to participate in any Tony race, a voter had to have seen each nominated performance, and that narrowed the pool of qualified voters.

But watch for one possible record to be set: Lois Smith, 90, is a leading contender for best featured actress in a play, for her work in “The Inheritance.” If she wins, she will become the oldest person ever to win a Tony Award for acting, a record previously held by Cicely Tyson, who won at 88.

#Tony Awards #Betrayal #Tom Hiddleston #Jamie Lloyd

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percywinchester27 · 3 years

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A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-36)

Word count: 5.6K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Feels, PTSD, fluff

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Love you babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“I’ve decided I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m going home.”

“Jack!” You grabbed him by his elbow just as he turned. “You can’t abandon me!”

He looked a bit terrified. “I can’t do this, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you can. Jody is awesome and you’re so cute. I know she will like you.”

Jack did not look convinced. A tiny part of you was nervous with him. He was about to meet his girlfriend's mom for the first time. After calling Sam to tell him that you were up for the picnic, the wild optimism in his voice had you wearing out the carpet of your living room, freaking out about messing it up- for Sam and for Max. As a last resort, you had knocked on your neighbour’s door and convinced Jack to accompany you. As it turned out, Claire had been after him for a while to meet her family, and Jack being Jack was worrying the hell out of it.

Now, you stood in front of the gate of your building, waiting for Sam to come pick you up, and not letting each other chicken out of this situation. That’s what friends did.

“It’s not just Jody,” Jack admitted. “It’s also your husband.”

Your heart still lurched at the word. “Sam? What about him?”

Jack groaned, rolling his head. “I don’t know. You’re our Y/N… and then suddenly we find out you’re married. I really want to like him, but he’ll take you away from us.”

You were touched by his words, and the innocence in them. “No one can take me away. In fact, this is just my grand scheme to make sure that you’re stuck with me for life now. I’ve been slowly getting you hooked to the cookies. Soon there will come a day when you’ll realise you can't live without them. And then you just can’t get rid of me. It’ll be too late.”

Jack smiled at you and slung his arm around your soldier. “It’s not the cookies we’re getting addicted to, it’s you.”

A car made the swift turn and came to a stop next to the gate, right in front of you- Sam’s sleek, black Mercedes.

Jack let out a low whistle. “I take it all back. You get back together with this guy and adopt me. Max is so much nicer than Kevin anyway. I'll share a room with him. I’ll do the dishes everyday.”

You were crying because of laughter by the time Sam opened his door and stepped out.

“You alright?” He asked, face startled but amused.

Nodding and gasping for breath, you made the hasty introductions. Jack gave his patented customary hand raise of a greeting with palm facing forward. Sam was going for a handshake but seeing Jack’s wave, he did the same with a smile.

From the backseat, Max called out your name. Without caring about the rest, you opened the door and got in besides him, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, Y/N, aren’t you riding shotgun?” Jack asked, voice restrained to appear casual.

“Nah, you got it. I’m going to hangout in the back with Max.”

Jack might be looking daggers at you for throwing him under the bus, but you knew he’d live. Sam was excellent company. In the next fifteen minutes of the ride, you were proven right, because Jack was busy discussing the mysterious circumstances under which Edgar Allan Poe died, and how The murders in Rue Morgue was actually his best work. Sam was exceptionally well read and Jack was in his element with literature discussions.

You turned to Max, showing him your basket. “Look, what I got for you- your favourite cookies and a pie!”

He let out a squeal of delight and you snuck a cookie out for him.

The car was spotless, rich upholstery gleaming, but you knew Sam couldn’t care less if Max got crumbs on the seats. Right on track, Max dug into the cookie, not bothering about the mess. Secretly, it pleased you that you were beginning to decode their relationship.

“I didn’t know what the others would like, so I baked muffins and some savoury croissants. You think that’s okay?”

“Stop gnawing over it, Y/N,” Sam said. “Everyone’s gonna love it.”

You didn’t think he was even paying any attention to you. Course you were wrong. His eyes were melting in the rearview mirror as he smiled at you.

“Y/N woke up at 4:30 in the morning to get everything set,” Jack added.

You bent forward to look at him. “How do you know that?”

“I could hear your beater whirring. Thin walls.”

“That woke you up? I’m so sorry, Jack!”

Jack snorted. “Was she always like this?”

“Always,” said Sam, with all the warmth. You could feel the heat in your chest.

For the rest of the ride, you happily listened to Max chatter about the badminton racquet in the trunk and Claire’s home bowling set. He was such a joy to listen to when he was just being a kid and not careful. You listened very attentively, picking out the things that were only in the subtext of his words. Max loved these people- Jody, her girls and even Chase. He knew their habits and their natures like a family. Sam must have relied on them a lot and often.

You were so lost in Max’s words, that the car was already silently cruising along the San Francisco bay. The water stretched by one side of the road. Instinctively, you tightened the grip on Max’s hand.

Why hadn’t you thought to ask where the picnic was!

As it turned out, the place they had chosen was very serene… The little landscape was a small distance walk from the highway, secluded enough that it wasn’t frequented, but beautiful nonetheless. Tall, full trees dominated the landscape. The rich fall colours, oddly made the shade underneath brighter somehow, inviting. The shadows of the trees bleeded into an open, grassy area and ultimately into the sandy, pebbly waterline of the bay.

You wrinkled your nose at the sight of nestled ducks. Sam smirked at you. Was he remembering the same afternoon? When you had tried to feed the ducks Sam and Dean’s epic failure of muffins?

Two girls were already laying out an assortment of food on the blanket. The blonde turned at the sound of Max’s hoots and her face brightened at the site of Jack. It was adorable. Alex still had her hand in a cast and Jody was hauling a cane chair from behind. All of them looked in a jovial mood. Maybe the whole sneaking out at night debacle was behind them.

Alex greeted you first when you reached them. “It’s great to see you again, Mrs. Winchester.”

You felt rather than saw Sam’s eyes flash towards you. Smiling, you sat down next to her. “Y/N is just fine, Alex. You don’t have to change names all of a sudden.”

Both she and Claire were a little wide eyed. Your situation had clearly been a topic of discussion with them. This girl they randomly knew as Max’s friend or Jack’s neighbor was now suddenly Sam’s wife. It must’ve been bizarre. After sharing a few pleasantries with Jody, you pulled out your own basket.

You had to admit, the reactions were very mollifying as they dug into the muffins, pies and croissants, moaning with closed eyes. Sam gave you a sideways smirk at their reaction.

“That’s it,” Jody declared. “You’re passing the rest of the semester for legal writing without handing in a single assignment. The muffins alone… mmm.”

“Save me some,” Sam complained. It was mostly aimed at Jody.

She scowled at him. “You stop making those eyes at me, Winchester. I’m not giving up my share.” When you giggled she turned towards you. “Did he always do that?”

“Puppy dog eyes of doom? Yeah… always.”

“You make that shit work for you in the court, don’t you? That’s how you win all of them cases,” she grumbled.

“How rude!”

You turned at the offended sound. Chase stood behind you with arms crossed over his chest.

“You guys started eating without me?” He huffed, sitting down on your other side and turned to Max. “Your dad, I can expect that from. Since when did you turn into such an Iago?”

“I saved you the cookies,” Max said promptly, pulling the bag from behind him. There was a small furor which was mostly the girls complaining about how they didn’t know there were cookies. It ended with Chase clutching the bag to his chest.

“Flee away, children,” he said. “I need the cookies to mend my broken heart.”

“What happened to your girlfriend? Weren’t you bringing her with you?” Sam asked.

Chase threw him a very impressive shade. “She dumped me, Samuel.”

“Why?”

“She couldn’t bear that I was prettier than her.”

You suspected Chase was just playing it out for the cookies. He did not look heartbroken in the least.

Once the food stash was considerably depleted, the girls, Jack and Max, picked up the racquets and divided their teams for Badminton. When Max insisted that you join them, Sam vehemently supported your argument of terrible hand-eye coordination. He knew and much like yourself, did not want to put other people in the way of the harm that you might inflict. In the end, only the group of four ended up on the blankets. Sam, Jody, you and Chase who was almost lying on his side, head resting on his hand, propped up on an elbow. He looked younger in a t-shirt and jeans.

“I still can’t believe you can cook all of this by yourself! No wonder Sam didn’t want to junk the marriage.”

“Chase!” Sam admonished, mortified, but you enjoyed Chase’s unapologetic behaviour, being all too tired of people stepping on eggshells around you- especially Sam.

“No, it’s alright,” you said, grinning at Chase, who returned your grin with a wink.

“You don’t happen to have a sister, do you?” He enquired.

“Well, actually…”

“Someone other than Jo,” he added quickly. “God knows I won’t survive a minute if I went toe to toe with Dean Winchester. One Winchester is enough to keep me in line.”

Sam threw Chase his classic bitchface then went back to his conversation with Jody. Eyeing his absorption, Chase tilted his head towards the side, “Care to join me for a walk, Y/N?”

You chanced a look at Sam, who was busy discussing a faculty matter and nodded. As quietly as you could, the two of you got up and moved away.

“So, did you end up applying? To Acton Gris, I mean?” He asked, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his pants.

“I did, the very evening. I’m trying not to be too hopeful.”

His green eyes regarded you. “Now, whyever would you do that?”

“Because I’m a realist and I know what type of competition I’m up against.”

Chase chuckled. “You’re too idealistic, Y/N. Even more than Mr. Mc-dreamy over there. Never thought I’d see him topped in that category. I’m still hopeful. Looks like I’m the only one.”

“Why do you care?” You asked. “What does it matter to you if I end up in Acton Gris or not?”

“It doesn’t. I think it would be great for your career and it’s my duty being from the same alma mater to further your cause.”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “And this has nothing to do with Sam.”

Chase was quiet for a long time, watching his steps as you strolled along the waterline, a safe distance away from it. You had given up on expecting an answer and were just beginning to wonder what would be a good time to turn around and head back when he finally spoke, “I’ll admit I haven’t been your biggest fan, Y/N. Sam never said a word against you… and that is exactly what pissed me off.”

This was in line with what you had pretty much already assumed so it didn’t come as a surprise.

“I’m telling you this because I know you ain’t a snowflake,” said Chase. “You don’t have the liberty to be a snowflake after everything you’ve been through. I also know you don’t care about my opinion of you.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” you pointed out.

He sighed. “I suggested that you try at Acton Gris not for Sam’s sake but mine. That part I told you about- how Sam’s too high up to be involved with paralegals- is one hundred percent true. But I wanted to get to know you for myself.”

“To see if I was any good for Sam?”

Chase snorted. “This whole deal makes me sound like Sam’s possessive mistress but I am protective of him… and of his boy over there. I’ve been around for the start of that story, and they’ve been hurt enough. I am cad for saying this but I just didn’t trust you enough, and Sam being Sam was pining after you from day one… it’s quite tiresome to watch.”

“And now what? You suddenly approve of me? I passed some invisible test?”

“You guys are already married, who the heck am I to set a test for you? For the majority part I was telling the truth, you know. You’d flourish at Acton Gris. It would make you happy and Sam would be over the moon. But I still want to get to know you better.” He paused. “I haven’t had the best of family life growing up. More money than I could count, but my mother ditched me and my dad before I could spell out her name. I’ve seen him miserable for all his life… and well, it gave me mommy issues to last a lifetime.” Chase winked. “So all the meddling is clearly not me projecting my childhood abandonment issues on you. Clearly!”

Chase’s blunt honesty surprised you. He owed you nothing at all. Yet here he was answering all your questions. While he was at it, you decided to ask one more.

“Now you think I won’t break Sam’s heart?”

He looked at you and shook his head lightly. “I don’t know that. What I do know is that you won’t be able to break his heart without breaking your own first. I’ve only ever wanted him to be happy. Tried setting him up with a hundred girls, the guy just wouldn’t budge. Then you come back and it’s fucking sunshine all over his face. I know when to give up.”

Oddly, you understood exactly where Chase was coming from. He was so strongly rooted in Sam’s corner, all of his thoughts were biased, even if it meant being critical and wary of you. You hadn’t tried to achieve it, but somewhere in the middle you had gained both Chase’s confidence and his liking.

“What’s it like working under Sam?” You asked, changing the topic as well as voicing a curiosity.

Chase gave you a look. “Now or then?”

“Both,” you said after a minute.

“You’ve got to know, I used to look up to Sam when I was at Stanford- not that he knew I existed back then. He was in the final year, I was in the first, and he was everything I wanted to be- Top of his class, valedictorian, popular with the ladies. I applied at Johnson’s because of that.” He paused, continuing only after an encouraging look from you. “He was nothing like I remembered. Every time I faced him, there was a very real risk of being fired for the smallest mistake.”

Chase laughed. You did not. He was describing a Sam you couldn’t imagine, a Sam that shouldn’t have existed.

“Now he’s my best friend. At any rate, he’s about the only person who puts up with my dumb antics.”

“He puts up with a lot from a lot of people,” you murmured, absentmindedly staring at the lake.

A small moment caught your eye. The birdy that had been flying back and forth between the girls and the boys, flew over a bit too high and far. And as a reflex, Max, his eyes up, backed away fast.

“No!” You were already running by the time you realised that the terrified scream was yours.

“No, no… Chirp!” You shouted, but it was too late as the boy’s feet hit the wet slope. He slipped and tumbled back, rolling right into the water.

Your legs were aching from how hurriedly you dove after him, right into the bay, lashing in the water till your hands found Max’s body. Yanking him out of the water and against your body, you backed off quickly. You cradled his body on the sandy shore, frantically checking his face, arms to make sure he was alright. Max didn’t look hurt, just shocked and a bit scared.

“Are you okay?” You asked, too loudly. Max nodded.

Hands landed on your shoulder, your head. Voices told you to let go but you did not release Max, not till another voice murmured in your ear, “It’s alright, Y/N. He’s okay.”

You turned on Sam. “Why did you let him near water? Why weren’t you paying any attention?” You yelled, not relinquishing your hold on Max.

Sam crouched down before you, not attempting to reach out to Max, who was staring wide eyed at you.

“What if something had happened to him?” You wiped at your tears with the back of your hand. “He’s just a little boy! How could you be so careless?”

Sam shrugged out of his jacket and carefully wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Max is alright,” he said calmly, “You can let go of him.”

“No!”

“Y/N, you’re all wet and you’re starting to shake. Get inside the car before it gets worse.”

“But Max…”

“Max is fine,” Sam said in the same patient tone. “Look at the water, it’s not even waist deep. This side of the bay is very shallow for, at least, fifty yards and Max can swim very well.”

The realisation came very suddenly. Max had never been in any danger at all. The girls had sarongs on, maybe they had all intended a swim. You had needlessly created a scene, drenched Max more than he needed to be and yelled at Sam for being an irresponsible father.

The tears spilled over again but because of a different reason this time- shame. You let go of Max the next instant, staring pointedly at the ground.

Max turned in your lap. Small, soft hands came up to wipe away the tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I won’t go near the water again.”

You threw your arms around him again and sobbed against his little neck. The people around you seemed to be closing in but you didn’t want to look up at any of them. Your heartbeat was thudding erratically against Max’s head but he didn’t make a move to leave or get up.

“C’mon, girls, start packing,” Jody ordered over you. “Give Y/N some space to breathe. You, too, lover boy!”

Four sets of feet scampered away.

“Chase, take Max to the blankets. There’s a fresh set of clothes in his bag.”

You did not want to let go of the boy. Doing so would make you face Sam.

It seemed Max was reluctant as well, but with one look at Sam, he disentangled himself. You felt the softest brush of his lips on your cheek and then Max was walking away, his hand in Chase’s.

Sam put both his hands against your arms and pulled you to your feet. He drew his coat tightly around you and started walking you towards his car, his palm firmly planted against your back.

You let him, without another word as he opened the door of the passenger seat for you to get in. Sam got in on the other side and turned the heat up. Only when the car started did you shake out of the quiet.

“Wait. Max?”

“Don’t worry about him. Chase will drive him home.”

Sam’s voice betrayed no emotion. Not anger or hurt. It was as composed as the many lectures he had delivered.

Ashamed of even meeting his gaze, you tipped your head against the window, glad that the side was facing the road instead of the bay and closed your eyes. It felt like floating in bliss if you buried your emotions down- this sensation of gliding on a smooth road, the heat in the car swirling with the scent of Sam’s cologne. It felt familiar and safe.

All too soon you were jerked awake, the car easing into the driveway and coming to a stop. It was already dark outside. Somehow you had slept through the whole ride. Your clothes were completely dry.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, his voice like velvet in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Straightening up, you turned to face Sam who was looking down at you with concern etched on his face. Slowly, you took his hand in yours and spoke through a hoarse voice, looking at them. “Please forgive me.” Those three words did not even begin to cover the regret you felt over what had happened. You were an outsider, looking in on Sam’s life with this strange hunger and desire. You wanted to be a part of his little family so bad, but you weren’t yet. You didn’t know Max the way Sam did, did not understand Max’s choices, and the thoughts behind them. You did not have a right to him or Sam. Ignoring all of that, you had yelled at Sam, the way a wife would yell at her husband for neglecting their child. But, Sam wasn’t neglecting Max. Max wasn’t your son and you were barely Sam’s wife.

“It was thoughtless and stupid to raise my voice at you and say those words. I forgot that Max belongs to you, that you could never be careless towards him. I had no right to yell at you in front of everyone.”

Maybe it was all for good. Let Sam see what you were capable of. If he saw the truth of how broken you were, maybe he would stop wanting you in his life. Everyone knew how hysteric you could get now. So much for Jody rooting for you. So much for Chase’s hopes of Sam getting to be happy. They all saw you for who you truly were.

“You remember what I told you the other night?” Sam asked. “When you came over and we sat by the swing?”

The lightness of his voice made you look up. He should be angry, at least, pissed.

“I told you that I didn’t care what people thought about us.”

“Doesn’t justify what I did… How it must’ve looked...”

“You know how it looked to me?”

Sam’s eyes were clear, no resentment in them. “To me it looked like you ran to protect my son without caring for your life. You didn’t know the water wasn’t deep, you can’t swim and you’re fucking terrified of water. I’m not even talking about what the cold does to you. Why on earth would I care about how this looks to anyone else?”

You were transfixed by the depth of his words.

“Those people either love you or love me. I’m sure they saw it no differently than how I see it.”

“What about Max? I must’ve scared him so bad.” The poor boy hadn’t said anything except apologise to you for stepping in the water. It hadn’t been his fault.

Sam pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t worry too much about him. I think he’s concerned about you the most.”

You put your head in your hands, weary. The fear was still an echo in your stomach despite the sleep, and it was getting stronger every minute- what if something had happened to Max?

“Can I ask you something?” Sam sounded hesitant.

“Mhmm.”

“Do you remember what you said right before you jumped in the water?”

You frowned, trying to remember. “Wasn’t I calling out to Max?” There had been no time to say anything or do anything else.

Sam’s face was tender as he said, “Yeah, you were calling out to Max.”

What a weird thing to ask! You tried harder, failing to remember what Sam was talking about.

Lights flared up behind. You leaned back, not realising just how close you were to Sam. The car coming from behind came to a halt at the start of the driveway. The doors opened and Max and Jack spilled out from either sides. Jack reached your door first. He opened it and pulled you into a hug without waiting for you to turn.

“Hey, hey, I’m okay.”

“You were shaking so bad.”

It was actually nothing compared to what Jack could have witnessed if Sam hadn’t whisked you off into the car and in front of a heater.

Chase’s reaction was a bit more subdued. He looked worried about how you were doing and wasn’t his usual boisterous self. When Sam invited him for dinner, he took a raincheck. So did Jack. Once, Chase had driven away, Sam looked at you expectantly, but you just shook your head. You had intruded on their time too much already.

You crouched down to Max’s level who was uncharacteristically quiet. “I scared you today, didn’t I?”

Max didn’t say anything. He placed the back of his hand against your forehead and then under your jaw.

“I’m alright, sweetie,” you assured him.

Max hugged you around the neck, and you hugged back tightly just for a second. You would jump inside a hundred lakes a hundred times without a single thought if it meant Max would be safe.

“I love you,” Max whispered very quietly in your ear. You were sure no one else had heard it.

Just as quietly, you whispered back. “I love you, too, my little boy.”

“Get inside, Max,” Sam said. “Wash your hands and change out of your clothes. I’ll be there in a minute to run the bath for you.”

With a small sigh, Max went inside, but not before giving you a smile.

“I’ll wait for you right outside the gate,” Jack told you. “It was great meeting you, Sam.”

“Likewise,” said Sam.

You watched Jack almost run out of sight.

“Cool kid,” Sam muttered, eyes in the same direction.

You sighed. “I can’t believe I ruined the picnic and put a damper on everyone’s mood.”

“C’mere.” Sam gently pulled you to him, so that your body was leaning against his. One hand was curled around your shoulder and his other hand was against your lower back. You could feel the tips on his fingers against the little skin exposed between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your pants. It sent a thrill through your body. “It’s like you have to find something to worry about all the time. Quit doing that. Everyone’s just glad that you’re okay. We’ll do this again sometime, alright? We can push Chase in the water next time.”

You snorted.

“And don’t worry about the yelling. You know I always liked it when you got bossy like that.”

Sam’s words made you giggle.

“There’s my girl.” His warm breath washed over your face.

What you did next was inexcusable. Without warning, you were reaching up on the tips of your toes, kissing him. Sam was surprised, his hands left your body, but you threw yours around his neck, raising yourself up against his tall frame. He was so shocked that he lost his balance and fell back against the wall next to his door. You did not give up, sucking on his lower lip, feeling the roll of his muscles under your hand.

Sam let out a primal sound and the next second you were turning, it was your back to the wall now. He hoisted you up against the surface by your waist with one hand, hitching your leg around his waist. The other hand tangled in your hair as his mouth worked hard against yours. His taste was heady, intoxicating and the way he was kissing you was enough to make you forget where you were, what you were doing. It would make you forget your own name. The hand at your waist travelled under the hem of your shirt, clutching at the skin on your lower back, and his lips started to travel downwards, sucking, biting, along your chin to your jaw and back down again to the column of your neck. Sam wasn’t gentle… and as you gasped, indecently, eyes closed, you didn’t want him to be gentle either.

No, you wanted him to be rougher, go harder and never stop.

“Daaaaaadd!” Max sang from the inside and the two of your sprang apart. Your feet landed on the ground with resounding reality.

"Coming," he said, voice thick.

Sam bent down, hands on his knees, gasping hard.

“Oops!” You muttered.

He looked up at you with a boyish grin, face flushed, looking years younger.

“I better go,” you said, biting your lip. “Jack’s waiting for me.”

You wanted nothing more than for him to ask you to stay and by the looks of it, he wanted the exact same thing.

“Uhhh yeah…” Sam huffed, shifting slightly, trying to adjust his jeans furtively. That made your face grow hotter.

“Bye!” You ducked out of the porch, not looking back, least you should turn around and attack him again. What had gotten into you to react so wildly? That must’ve been highly inappropriate!

A small voice in your head told you that it was anything but inappropriate… technically, at least.

Jack’s face lit up when he saw you and then it immediately dropped.

“What happened?”

“Y-Your hair!” He muttered, looking anywhere but at you.

“Oh!” It was mussed up in all directions. Hurriedly, you ran your fingers through it, hoping for some semblance. “Sorry.”

After a minute, Jack sneaked a glance and then smiled impishly. “I’m sorry. It’s just the idea of you making out with someone gives me the heebies… You’re like my sister!” He screwed up eyes into slits to show the cringe.

You laughed.

At the door, Jack gave you another hug. “I gotta say, Y/N, I wasn’t convinced about this whole Sam business before today. Neither was Kev. You know we would always support you with whatever you decided, but seeing you with him was very relieving. I won’t worry again.”

It was heartening, how much everyone cared for you.

You had to take a cold shower once inside, despite your composition. It was regretful, because the water washed away the remnants of Sam’s smell off of you. Idly, you wondered if you could steal the shirt he had lent you and keep it for yourself, climb into it when you went to bed like you used to.

The shower was necessary to reign in the utter chaos that was your brain. The evening had been eventful enough, but what had happened on Sam’s porch? How were you ever going to keep your hands away from him now? Abstaining was your idea to begin with. Sam had bared his heart to you, and this was your decision to keep your hands to yourself till you said the three words back to him.

So much for self control. But the way he’d looked at you, angels would have fallen for less. You were only a human. Besides, nothing would ever compare to the feeling of Sam’s lips, his fingers digging in your back, his body pressed against yours.

You got into the bed, missing the warmth of his body when your phone pinged. Rolling on your stomach, you reached out to grab it from the nightstand praying the text was from the one person you wanted it to be from. It was.

*I missed that. I missed us*

Hugging the phone to your chest, you sighed like a teenager back from her first kiss. The incidence with water should have shaken you, the way you were wrecked anytime you got drenched, instead you were laying in bed grinning like an idiot.

*I missed us, too*

His reply was instantaneous.

*It’s been a while…*

What an idiot! You knew what he was implying. As if he could ever be less than perfect at anything, especially at that.

You typed your response quickly.

*Oh, Mr. Winchester, you always knew how to show a girl a good time*

The tightening in your stomach which refused to go away despite the cold shower was proof enough. Your skin still tingled.

*That’s comforting… and encouraging ;)*

Yes, it was going to be really hard to go back to keeping your hands off each other now. Being around him was like breaking dams. Once you broke one, it was impossible to put that barrier back up again. The class tomorrow was going to be excruciating. For tonight, you let the wildest fantasies mingled with old memories take up all of your brain space. Even if it left you writhing in your sheets.

*Good night, Mr. Winchester*

You saw the three dots following one another and then disappearing as Sam typed. Once, twice, thrice. Finally the little pop up bubble appeared.

*Good night, Mrs. Winchester. I love you*

**********************************

A/N 2: I quite like this part. Gave me the chance to explore how delicate, confusing, dependent and volatile emotions can be at the same time. I think if I hadn’t had the backing of 35 chapters, I’d never be able to pull of the conversations in this chapter, Sam, Chase, Jack... all of them. They wouldn’t have been as funny, emotional or exciting. That’s just me thinking maybe.

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Venom: Let There Be Carnage – The Comics History of the Symbiote Rivalry

https://ift.tt/3APMTrk

Something that impresses me with a superhero movie like Venom is when it doesn’t rush directly into the expected villain. When there are four different Fantastic Four movies, and they’re all about emphasizing Dr. Doom, it’s a breath of fresh air when, say, Man of Steel only makes an Easter egg reference to Lex Luthor instead of going directly for that confrontation. The MCU Spider-Man has yet to meet an Osborn, guys like Thanos and Darkseid started out as ominous benefactors, and the existence of Heath Ledger Joker was merely a cliffhanger tease in Batman Begins.

Much like how the Justice League movie decided to take its time by giving us Steppenwolf of all people, the first Venom movie had Carlton Drake (who hasn’t appeared in the comics since the early 9’0s) and Riot (the most forgettable of all of Venom’s comic children). By letting Venom build himself up on his own, flanked by some rather mundane villains, it gave more meaning to Cletus Kasady showing up in the post-credits. Carnage, Venom’s main villain, gets more fanfare by appearing in the sequel where our hero is fully formed.

Since Carnage’s first appearance in 1992, the idea has always been to make a darker, scarier Venom. Venom was a villain at the time, sure, but he was also on the border of becoming more. Outside of his personal delusions and anger issues, he still claimed that he wanted to help the innocent and punish the guilty. Even when he was able to accept that Spider-Man was good, they couldn’t co-exist due to their different natures as vigilantes. Carnage was simpler because he was full-on evil and had no potential for redemption. He was something so sinister and malevolent that both Spider-Man and Venom knew it was worth it to put aside their differences and take this creep down.

Venom: Let There Be Carnage has hyped Carnage up as being out of Venom’s league and that was the initial push of the character. Over time, the two became roughly equals as Carnage became the go-to bad guy for Venom to punch.

So let’s take a look at the history of Venom vs. Carnage. For the sake of simplicity, I’m going to define “Venom” and “Carnage” as characters wearing their respective symbiotes (excluding Peter Parker), or the symbiotes themselves. I’m not going to count Eddie Brock as Toxin, or Flash Thompson as Agent Anti-Venom or whatever.

Carnage’s Debut

Not counting cameos and build-up, Carnage’s first major appearance was in Amazing Spider-Man #361, starting off a three-parter. Spider-Man came to realize that he wasn’t enough to stop Carnage and he was going to need help. Specifically, he was going to need Venom. This was an awkward decision as Venom was at the time living his best life on an empty island, thinking that he had succeeded in killing Spider-Man.

Once Venom fully understood the situation, he accepted the temporary alliance. In the very first Venom vs. Carnage confrontation, Venom and Spider-Man tackled Carnage, got slammed into each other, then thrown into opposite walls. Carnage then caused a distraction by putting a baby in danger so he could escape. While he was dominant in that very brief scuffle, he still needed to run off, so I’m calling this a draw.

The handicap match continued into the last issue of the arc at a rock concert. In one-on-one exchanges, Carnage had Venom’s number, but Spider-Man was always there for the save. Spider-Man was able to use the sonics from the amplifiers to take out both of them. Technically a draw again, but it’s also a situation where Carnage regularly kicked the shit out of Venom and Venom only survived because he had help.

Maxium Carnage

Insert your Green Jelly cassettes and press play because it’s time for Carnage’s big ’90s crossover story. After the previous story’s popularity, Marvel decided to add more heroes, more villains, and make the whole thing a whopping 14 issues!

As Venom was a San Francisco vigilante at the time, he flew to New York to stop Carnage’s reign of terror. The first fight wasn’t even shown, as after the reveal that Carnage had Shriek and Doppelganger on his side, it cut away. A brutalized Venom was later found passing out while knocking on Peter and MJ’s door.

As Maximum Carnage was filled with so much filler and extra characters, there were various fight scenes of a group of heroes brawling with a group of villains. Venom and Carnage talked smack a lot, but nothing much ever really happened in terms of fighting. The story finally kicked into gear when Venom used a stolen sonic gun and blasted Carnage while Firestar assisted with her microwave blasts. This would have done the job, but Spider-Man got in the way and Shriek simply cut Cletus’ face open, causing his symbiote to respawn and bring him back to 100 percent health. Carnage and Shriek overwhelmed Venom and carried him off, along with the sonic gun.

Venom spent several issues being tortured until coming up with the plan to sneak some of the symbiote into the sonic gun so that Carnage would splatter Venom with more Venom. He punched Carnage down and escaped with gusto, hiding the fact that he was in no condition to fight.

It isn’t until the last issue that we FINALLY got a real Venom vs. Carnage fight. Venom was physically busted a bit, but Carnage was mentally busted. The heroes hit him with some MaGuffin device that caused him to be haunted by those who screwed him up in life. Venom pretty much just kicked Carnage’s ass around the city while Carnage tried in vain to escape. Every now and then, Spider-Man would appear and go, “B-b-but Eddie! Killing is wrong!” for the sake of giving Carnage a second wind.

Eventually, Venom punched Carnage so hard that Carnage’s brain ghosts went away. Knowing Carnage was more of a threat this way, Venom tackled him into a transformer. After the explosion, Cletus was knocked out and Venom got to weakly sneak away. Hey, good for him!

Venom: Carnage Unleashed

Venom was so popular that we got Carnage. Carnage’s initial storyline was so popular that we got Maximum Carnage. Maximum Carnage was so popular that we got a Maximum Carnage video game. Then we got Venom: Carnage Unleashed, a comic based on the popularity of the Maximum Carnage video game. It…wasn’t all too popular.

Still, it did give us the rarely used plot device that symbiotes can travel through phone lines and the internet! Symbiotes really are like pre-Crisis Superman where you can give them whatever power and people will just go with it no matter how ridiculous. As Carnage escaped from Ravencroft and commandeered a security tank, Venom eventually caught up with him and they had a fight on a runaway vehicle through traffic. Carnage eventually won when Venom got slammed by an oncoming train.

Their final battle here is a big pile of “That’s not how any of this works!” The two characters send symbiote tendrils into the internet, which were rendered on the Times Square big screen as the two brawled in cyberspace. Venom destroyed a nearby heatsink, which blasted both and knocked them out of the internet.

Carnage was ready for another go, but his kidnapped psychiatrist set him on fire and caused him to fall out a window. Venom reached through the phone lines and out the window to catch the falling Cletus because dying is WHAT HE WANTS. Which… no, that’s not true at all. Hell, even in Maximum Carnage, Cletus was freaked out about the possibility of dying.

Venom: On Trial

So there was a big Spider-Man/Scarlet Spider/Venom team-up called Planet of the Symbiotes that culminated in a 40-foot-tall Carnage, but there was never a specific Venom vs. Carnage moment, so I won’t go into it. Venom’s ’90s antihero run did have a storyline where Eddie was arrested and put on trial for all of his many crimes. Cletus Kasady was brought in as a star witness, which was an invitation for him to freak out and go on a killing rampage. I mean, seriously, guys. Come on. You should know better.

This story went all-in on Venom wrecking Carnage. Again, Spider-Man would interrupt and give Carnage a chance to turn things around. This time though, Venom decided to ride the wave by sneaking away while Spider-Man and Daredevil took on Carnage. Realizing that the two didn’t have a chance, Venom picked up a couple syringes filled with dopamine blocker and sprung into action. He smacked Carnage around, injected the blocker into his neck, and watched as the symbiote retracted into Cletus’ body.

Venom Triumphant

Howard Mackie wrote Spider-Man comics for a long while and he had an annoying tendency when it came to storytelling. He would come up with an interesting, if nonsensical, idea that would shake up the status quo, but instead of following up on that and using it to tell an actual story, he would just forget about it and move to the next idea that popped into his head. He was one of the main reasons why the Spider-Man Clone Saga was such a mess.

In the 10th issue of Peter Parker, Spider-Man, Venom broke into the prison where Carnage was being held. Despite the legion of heavily armed guards with flamethrowers and sonic guns, Venom killed them all so quickly that the artist didn’t even show it. Cletus, for some reason, figured Venom was trying to break him out of prison, but instead Venom was there to absorb the Carnage symbiote. Carnage barely put up a fight. Pieces of the symbiote were on him, but he didn’t fully transform or try to defend himself. Venom simply pulled the symbiote off of him and ate it, becoming stronger.

After this issue, there was barely any follow-up to this.

Venom vs. Carnage

This miniseries came out at a really weird time for those involved. Carnage was just a couple months away from being torn in half by the Sentry and being written out of comics for years. Venom was appearing in Marvel Knights Spider-Man where Eddie Brock got rid of the symbiote and it bounced around to different hosts until landing on Mac Gargan. Meanwhile there was a Venom ongoing that was more about a symbiote clone where Eddie Brock only appeared for a couple late issues.

In other words, in the Venom vs. Carnage miniseries by Peter Milligan and Clayton Crain, even the creative team had no idea who Venom’s host was supposed to be. Luckily, the story wasn’t about Venom or Carnage, but a new character who would quickly fall into obscurity anyway.

Venom and Carnage swung around New York City, giving the exposition. The Carnage symbiote was pregnant and Venom was explaining that there was nothing to do to stop the creature from going into labor. Venom was all about protecting the new spawn while Carnage wanted to destroy it, immediately. Carnage got the better of Venom by flinging him into the distance. Regardless, the explosive birth wore out Carnage so much that he could only plant the baby onto a nearby cop and escape to rest up.

When the two had a rematch, Venom was there to save the baby symbiote (Toxin) and its host (Pat Mulligan). As if getting revenge for that Carnage Unleashed story, Venom brought the fight to the subway and pushed Carnage into an oncoming train.

And… that’s really all the Venom vs. Carnage we get in Venom vs. Carnage! Once Venom sees that Toxin is a good guy and capable of kicking Carnage’s ass, he gets afraid of Toxin befriending Spider-Man and decides to team up with Carnage for once.

Carnage, USA

Carnage returned from his maiming at the hands of the Sentry, albeit without a bottom half. By then, a lot had happened with Venom. The symbiote was removed from Mac Gargan and joined with war hero Flash Thompson. Agent Venom went on to join the Secret Avengers.

Carnage, USA told the story of Cletus expanding his symbiote to overtake an entire town in the middle of nowhere. When various heroes went to oppose him, the Carnage symbiote ended up taking over Captain America, Wolverine, Hawkeye, and the Thing. When gaining a moment of clarity, Cap called in Agent Venom for help.

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In their first meeting, Agent Venom easily took down Carnage with some explosive projectiles that came with sonic shrapnel. Then when getting ready for the kill – say it with me everyone – Spider-Man got in his face and went, “No! Don’t kill!” Carnage recovered, and overwhelmed Venom with his army of Carnage’d heroes. Then another obscure symbiote hero, Scorn, popped in to run Venom and Carnage over with a bulldozer and bring them into a facility that would blast their symbiotes off the hosts.

While Cletus and Flash had a fight based around the novelty that both were legless, the Venom symbiote latched onto a gorilla and ran for its life against an entire zoo full of animals with the Carnage symbiote. After almost being taken down by a Carnage lion (Spider-Man with the save), the gorilla returned to Flash and gave him the power to bring Cletus into custody.

As for the town-wide Carnage symbiote, most of it was taken out by an airstrike.

Minimum Carnage

Following up on Agent Venom, he had his own team-up arc with Scarlet Spider (Kaine) with the fun dynamic of a Venom who doesn’t want to kill and a Spider-Man who does. The two chased Carnage into the Microverse, where Carnage was able to create an army of symbiote clones. While Agent Venom was able to decapitate Carnage, the villain had attained some level of power where his body is more overall fluid and animated. In this case, Carnage could just reattach his head with no problem.

Although Flash had sedated his own symbiote and lacked the monstrous advantage, he was able to wipe out a bunch of the clones by amplifying his own inner sorrow outward through the Venom symbiote. Strangely, that’s not the first time Venom was able to do that. What’s left of Carnage slinked away, cackling.

Carnage and the clones returned to Earth and Voltron’d themselves into a giant Carnage. As Carnage tried to devour Agent Venom, Venom shoved a sonic grenade down Carnage’s throat and let the blast do the rest, taking out the enlarged Carnage symbiote almost completely. In the aftermath, Scarlet Spider jabbed one of his claws through Cletus’ eye and lobotomized him.

Venomverse

Venomverse is about a series of Venom hosts from different realities coming together to fight beings called Poisons. Under normal circumstances, Poisons are harmless. If one of them makes physical contact with a symbiote and its host, it transforms them into a nigh-unbeatable crystal-like creature with the Poison in control. By this point, Eddie Brock was Venom again and joined with all sorts of random symbiote heroes to the point that he came off as just a regular dude.

With their back against the wall, Eddie came up with an idea. They brought in Carnage from an alternate universe as a ringer. At first, Carnage fought against the Venoms, but they were reluctant to fight back. Once he saw the Poisons and understood that the Venoms wanted him to kill an army of twisted superheroes, he gladly joined their ranks. He just let them know that once he was done with the Poisons, he’d kill them next.

He ended up being a huge help, especially since the Poisons had a hard time bonding to the Carnage symbiote. Carnage died in an explosion fighting Poisons alongside Poison Deadpool (who was able to bypass his Poison’s mental control).

There was a sequel to this called Venomized where the Poisons returned and tried to invade Earth. They kidnapped Cletus, forced him to bond to an alternate universe Venom, and then bonded that to a Poison. While he was referred to as “Carnage” at times, the Carnage symbiote was never involved, so I’m going to skip this one.

But where was the Carnage symbiote during all of this?

The Red Goblin

At one point, Norman Osborn became the host for Carnage to give us a climactic villain to finish off Dan Slott’s lengthy run on Amazing Spider-Man. Knowing that Spider-Man was out of his league, J. Jonah Jameson decided to fight fire with fire by calling up Eddie Brock and blackmailing him into aiding Spider-Man. This led to a brief fight of Spider-Man, Venom, and repulsor-wielding Mary Jane against the Red Goblin.

Venom and Red Goblin brawled for a bit, but Red Goblin appeared to be immune to the usual symbiote weaknesses, so only Venom took damage. While he got some hits in, Eddie was too exhausted to continue. Instead he offered the symbiote to Spider-Man to give him the extra boost. This brief team-up allowed the two vigilante enemies to finally bury their lengthy rivalry.

Absolute Carnage

Now we get to Donny Cates’ bonkers run on Venom. Cletus had been resurrected and turned back into Carnage via a bunch of cultists who worshipped Knull, God of Symbiotes. Carnage then started going around eating the spines of those who were once host to a symbiote, getting stronger by the meal. Dark Carnage first fought Venom in a subway and easily overpowered him. Still, Venom got the win by grabbing onto the third rail while holding onto Dark Carnage. It was enough to knock Carnage loopy while Venom could get away and seek out help.

Venom and Spider-Man sought out Norman Osborn (who believed himself to be Cletus Kasady after the Red Goblin episode) and were ambushed by an army of inmates possessed by Carnage symbiotes. Overwhelmed, the two heroes broke through a wall and swung off into the night.

Venom got involved in another big fight against an army of Carnages and could have killed Osborn, but instead chose to save a wounded Mac Gargan nearby and brought him to safety. The Venom symbiote wasn’t happy with this and later left Eddie for Bruce Banner, giving us a fight between Venom Hulk and Dark Carnage. This turned out to be a dire choice, as Dark Carnage tore into Hulk’s brain, caused him to shrink back to Banner, then ate his spine. Carnage was stronger than ever.

Meanwhile, mad scientist the Maker had a machine that took the “symbiote codex” stuff Carnage was looking for out of former hosts without the nasty “tearing out their spinal column” part. Eddie unleashed the codex collection onto himself, turning him into a more powerful version of Venom. As he took on Cletus one last time, Carnage made note that Venom was screwed no matter what. Either Carnage killed and ate Eddie’s son Dylan or Eddie killed Carnage, which would wake up Knull and drive him to Earth.

Venom summoned the Necrosword to cut through Carnage, destroying him once and for all. For a time, at least.

Prelude to Knull

Wouldn’t you know it, killing Dark Carnage caused Eddie to absorb the Carnage symbiote into himself. Soon he was separated from Venom and stuck on an island while being bonded against his will to the Carnage symbiote. Dylan was able to remotely control the Venom symbiote and transformed it into a giant Venom T-rex. Like it wasn’t even bonding onto a dinosaur or anything. It was just the size and shape of a tyrannosaurus just because.

Eddie and Dylan had a dreamlike meeting in their minds while Carnage Eddie chopped down at the Venom dino. Eventually, the power of familial love was enough to overpower the Carnage symbiote and blow it up. Eddie rejoined with the Venom symbiote, and a little piece of Carnage latched onto a nearby shark to swim off and fight another day.

Okay, then! Phew! Going by every Venom vs. Carnage fight, I’ve judged them so that there have been six draws, eight victories for Carnage, and nine victories for Venom.

Congratulations, black ooze. Here’s hoping your red offspring doesn’t turn the tide at the box office.

Venom: Let There Be Carnage will be released in theaters on Oct. 1.

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Dust Volume 7, Number 4

Axel Ruley x Verbo Flow

A little bit of optimism is creeping into the air as Dusted writers start to get their shots. We’re all starting to think about live music, maybe outside, maybe this summer. But as the spate of freak snow storms demonstrates, summer’s not here yet, and in the meantime, piles of records and gigs of MP3s beckon. This early spring version of Dust covers the map, literally, with artists representing Pakistan, Australia, Canada, Sweden, the UK and the USA, and stylistically with jazz, rock, punk, rap, improv and many other genres in play. Contributors include Jennifer Kelly, Justin Cober-Lake, Bill Meyer, Ray Garraty, Patrick Masterson, Tim Clarke and Bryon Hayes.

Arooj Aftab — Vulture Prince (New Amsterdam)

Vulture Prince by Arooj Aftab

Arooj Aftab is a classical composer originally from Pakistan but now living in Brooklyn. Vulture Prince, her third full-length album, blends the bright clarity of new age music with the fluid, non-Western vocal tones of her Central Asian roots. “Last Night,” from an old Rumi poem but sung mostly in English, lilts in dub-scented syncopation, the thump and pop of stand-up bass underlining its bittersweet melody. An interlude in some other language shifts the song entirely, pitting vintage reggae reverberation against an exotic melisma. “Mohabbat” (which is apparently Urdu for sex) soothes in the pristine instrumentals, lucid guitars, a horn, scattered drumbeats, but smolders and beckons in the vocals. None of these tracks feel wholly traditional or wholly Western and modern day, but sit somewhere in a well-lit, idealized space. Timeless and placeless, Vulture Prince is nonetheless very beautiful.

Jennifer Kelly

Assertion — Intermission (Spartan)

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Intermission comes from an alternate timeline. Founding drummer William Goldsmith started his musical career in Sunny Day Real Estate and had a notable stint with Foo Fighters. To cut the biography short, Goldsmith took a decade off from the music industry. He's returned now with Assertion, joined by guitarist/vocalist Justin Tamminga and bassist Bryan Gorder (both of Blind Guides, among other acts). This band picks up in the late 1990s, imagining a new path for post-hardcore/post-grunge music. The trio's name suits, as the songs' energy and the lyrical assertiveness develops the intensity of the release. The group works carefully with dynamics, neither parroting the loud-quiet tradition nor simply pushing their emo leanings toward 11.

“The Lamb to the Slaughter Pulls a Knife” epitomizes the album. The track sounds like Foo Fighters decided to get dirtier rather than more arena-friendly, while the lyrics mix violence with emotional persistence. First single “Supervised Suffering” finds triumph in endurance, turning the aggressive chorus into something of a victory. “Set Fire” closes the album with something more delicate, but it's just the gauze over a seething anger. Goldsmith's time off seems to have served him well, as does collaborating with some new partners. Assertion makes its case clearly and effectively, and if the intermission's over for Goldsmith, the second half sounds promising.

Justin Cober-Lake

Michael Beach — Dream Violence (Goner/Poison City)

Dream Violence by Michael Beach

“De Facto Blues,” from Michael Beach’s fourth solo album, is a barn-burner of a song, rough and messy and passionate, the kind of song that makes you want to take a stand on something, who cares what as long as it matters to you. It snarls like Radio Birdman, slashes like the Wipers and follows its muse through chaos to righteousness like an off-cut from Crazy Horse, just back from rockin’ the free world. It’s got Matt Ford and Inez Tulloch from Thigh Master on guitar and bass, respectively, Utrillo Kushner from Colossal Yes (and Comets on Fire) on drums, and Kelley Stoltz at the boards, and it’s a killer. The rest of the album is varied and, honestly, not uniformly astounding, but there’s a nice Summer of Love-style psych dream in “Metaphysical Dice,” a slow-burning post-rocker in the title track and a driving, pounding punk anthem in the opener “Irregardless.” Beach has been splitting his time between San Francisco and Melbourne, Australia, and lately settled on Melbourne, where he will fit like a native into their thriving punk-garage scene.

Jennifer Kelly

Bloop — Proof (Lumo)

Proof by BLOOP (Lina Allemano / Mike Smith)

The trumpet is already a catalog of sound effects waiting to happen, and Lina Allemano knows the table of contents by heart. So, to shake things up, she has paired up with electronic musician Mike Smith, who contributes live processing and effects to Allemano’s improvisations. A blind listen to Proof might leave you with the impression that you’re hearing a horn player jamming with some outer space cats, and we’re not talking about hip, lingo-slinging jazz dudes. In fact, everything on these eight tracks happened in real time. Smith’s a strategic intervener, aware that too much sauce can spoil the stew, so he mixes up precise layering and pitch-shifting with more disorienting transformations. It’s hard to say how much Allemano responds to the simulacra that surround her brass voice, but there’s no denying the persuasiveness of her melodic and timbral ideas.

Bill Meyer

Bris — Tricky Dance Moves (TrueStory Entertainment)

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Bris left some music behind when he died in 2020, but it took almost a year to shape these recordings into a proper CD. The label CEO Mac J (a fine artist himself) could easily capitalize on his friend’s death, stacking Tricky Dance Moves with features from the artists Bris never would have worked with. Yet the album was prepared with the utmost care, not giving an ugly Frankenstein monster feel. Bris’s references to his possible early death are scattered throughout the whole tape: “Heard they wanna pop Bris cause they mad I’m poppin.” Almost every song could be easily turned into a prophetic tale (a cheap move one wants to avoid at all costs). Nonetheless, something is missing here. Or maybe it is just an image of death that disturbs the whole picture, making us realize that this is the last we’d hear from Bris.

Ray Garraty

Dreamwell — Modern Grotesque (self-released)

Modern Grotesque by Dreamwell

I recently read an interview with Providence’s Dreamwell breaking down in almost excruciating detail the influences that led to the quintet’s sophomore full-length Modern Grotesque. I kept scrolling past Daughters and Deftones and Deafheaven and increasingly disconnected influences like The Mountain Goats and Nina Simone. I went back to the top and looked again. I typed Ctrl+F and put in “Thursday.” Nothing. This is preposterous. I may not be in the post-hardcore trenches the way I once was, but even I’d know a good Full Collapse homage if it swung a mic right into my face the way this one did; hell, just listen to “The Lost Ballad of Dominic Anneghi” and tell me singer Keziah Staska doesn’t know every single word of “Paris in Flames.” That may not look like flattery on a first read, but too often, bands striding the emo/pop divide have chased the latter into sub-Taking Back Sunday oblivion; what Thursday did was much harder, and Dreamwell has ably taken up the torch here. That they did it unintentionally is a curious, bewildering footnote.

Patrick Masterson

Paul Dunmall / Matthew Shipp / Joe Morris / Gerald Cleaver — The Bright Awakening (Rogue Art)

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It’s a bit perplexing that reeds player Paul Dunmall hasn’t spent more time playing with American musicians. He’s firmly situated within the English improvisation community, where he’s perhaps best known for his longer tenure with the quartet Mujician, and his ability to double on bagpipes has allowed him to establish links between improvised and folk music. But

his jazz-rooted approach makes him a natural to work in settings such as this one. When Dunmall toted his tenor to the Vision Festival in 2012 (even then, it could be costly to lug multiple horns on a plane), he found three sympatico partners in Fest regulars pianist Matthew Shipp, double bassist Joe Morris and drummer Gerald Cleaver. They all hit the ground running, generating a barrage of pulsing, roiling sound for over 20 minutes before the piano and drums peel off, leaving Morris to sustain momentum alone. Dunmall’s gruff, spiraling lines find common cause with each of his fellows, and the gradual addition and subtraction of players from that point makes it easier to hear the exchange of ideas, which often seem to take place between dyads operating within the larger flow.

Bill Meyer

Editrix — Tell Me I’m Bad (Exploding in Sound)

Tell Me I'm Bad by Editrix

Wendy Eisenberg’s rock band is like her solo output in that it snarls delicate, self-aware, mini-short stories in complex tangles of guitar, hemming in high, sing-song-y verses with riffs and licks of daunting difficulty. The main differences are speed, volume and aggression (i.e. it rocks.) and a certain communal energy. That’s down to two collaborators who can more than keep up, Josh Daniel on surging, rattling, break-it-all-down percussion and Steve Cameron, equally anarchic and fast on bass. The title track is an all-out rager, thrusting jagged arena riffs of guitar and bass forward, then clearing space for off-kilter verses and time-shifting, irregular instrumental interplay. “Chelsea” follows a similar chaotic pattern, setting up a teeth-shaking cadence of rock instruments, with Eisenberg keening over the top of it. “I know, perfectly well, that we’re not safe, safe from the men in power,” she croons, engaged in the knotting difficulties of the world as we know it, but winning.

Jennifer Kelly

Elephant Micah — Vague Tidings (Western Vinyl)

Vague Tidings by Elephant Micah

The new Elephant Micah album, the follow-up to 2018’s excellent Genericana, has an apposite title. Vague Tidings conveys an atmosphere of feeling conscious of something carried on the wind, a story passed on that may have shifted through various iterations, leaving only a sense of its original meaning. All that can be sure is that this is sad, sober music, unafraid to brace against the chill of mortality and speak of all that is felt. The instruments — guitar, piano, percussion, violin and woodwinds — move around Joseph O’Connell’s voice in stiff yet graceful arcs, distanced by an unspoken etiquette. Repetitive melodic figures, stark yet steady, gradually accumulate weight as they roll along like tumbleweeds. It’s a crisp, forlorn country-blues, in no hurry to get nowhere, carrying ancient wisdom that seems to acknowledge the empty resonance of its own import.

Tim Clarke

Fraufraulein — Solum (Notice Recordings)

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Fraufraulein’s music is immersive. Anne Guthrie and Billy Gomberg beam themselves, and us along with them, Quantum Leap-style directly into multiple environments in medias res. Through the clever employment of field recordings, they transport us to a hurricane-addled beach, performing a voice/piano duet as driftwood missiles careen through the air. In another “episode,” the manipulation of small objects conjures up the intimacy of a water garden filled with windchimes. Partners in both life and art, Guthrie and Gomberg are also consummate solo artists. He is a master of spike-textured drones, while she explores the intimate properties of physical entities. Like a child tends to resemble one parent while borrowing subtle traits from the other, Solum identifies more with Guthrie’s electroacoustic tendencies than it does with Gomberg’s electronics. This is in stark contrast to 2015’s Extinguishment, which felt a little more balanced between those two modes. Both approaches work, yet Solum feels more meticulously crafted and nuanced. Careful listening unveils multiple subtle tones and textures, and each piece is an adventure for the ears.

Bryon Hayes

Gerrit Hatcher / Rob Magill / Patrick Shiroishi — Triplet Fawns (Kettle Hole)

Triplet Fawns by Gerrit Hatcher / Rob Magill / Patrick Shiroishi

The album’s title implies a crew you wouldn’t want on your yard; while those adolescent ungulate appetites do a number on your bushes, the hooves are hacking up your grass. But if they knocked on your door, saxophone cases in their respective hands, you could do worse than invite them around the back for some blowing. Hatcher, Magill and Shiroishi present with sufficient lung power to be heard fine without the reflective assistance of walls, even when they aren’t making like Sonore (that was Gustafsson, Vandermark, and Brötzmann, about a dozen years back). This album, which was released in a micro-edition of 100 CD-Rs on Hatcher’s Kettle Hole imprint, builds gradually from restrained melancholy to pointillistic jousting to a climactic blow-out, and the assured development of each piece suggests that each player was listening not only to what each of the others was doing, but where the music was headed.

Bill Meyer

A.Karperyd — GND (Novoton)

GND by A.Karperyd

On his second solo release, GND, Swedish artist Andreas Karperyd broodingly ruminates on snatches of musical ideas that have been percolating in his consciousness over extended periods. Anyone familiar with his 2015 debut, Woodwork, will find these 55 minutes similarly immersive, as Karperyd manipulates live instruments such as piano and strings into shimmering, alien tapestries. Opener “The Well-Defined Rules of Certainty” appears to take Fennesz’s Venice as its blueprint, issuing forth cascading, percolating tones that tickle the ears. “The Desire to Invoke Balance with Our Eyes Closed” and “Failures and Small Observations” have a Satie-esque elegance to their piano lines, albeit refracted via a hall of mirrors. The 12-minute “Reminiscence of Tar” sounds like a slow-motion pan across the hulking mass of a shadowy space station. And closing track “Mummification of an Empire” slowly fries its piano in static, then unfurls wistful melodica and throbbing synth across the wreckage.

Tim Clarke

Kiwi Jr. — Cooler Returns (Subpop)

Cooler Returns by Kiwi jr

Kiwi Jr.’s brash, brainy indie pop punk vibrates with nervy energy, like the first Feelies album or Violent Femmes’ 1983 debut or that one great S-T from the Soft Pack. Those are all opening salvos for their respective bands, but this one is a second outing, suffering not a bit from sophomore slackening. Instead, Cooler Returns tightens up everything that was already stinging on the Toronto band’s debut and adds a giddy careening glee. An oddball thread of Robin Hood-ness runs through the disc, with Sherwood forest getting a nod in the title track and “Maid Marian’s Toast” tipping the love interest, but these songs are anything but archaic. “Undecided Voters,” the single jangles harder than anything I’ve heard since Woolen Men, slyly upending creative pretensions in a verse that goes: “You take a photo of the CN tower/you take another of the Honest Ed sign/Well, I take photos of your photos/and they really move people.” Has it been done before? Maybe. Does it move us. Yes indeed.

Jennifer Kelly

Kool John — Get Rich, Die $moppin ($moplife Entertainment)

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A year ago, Kool John was shot six times. Yet you wouldn’t know about it from the general mood of Get Rich, Die $moppin, his first tape since then. He does name one song “6 Shots” and explicitly mentions the shooting accident a few times on other songs, but his bouncy music says he wasn’t hurt bad after all. The beats perfectly match the rhymes, playfully ignorant and ignorantly playful. Kool John still doesn’t mix with broke people, doesn’t return calls if it’s not about money and “doesn’t get stressed out.” Instead, he gets high. His new tape is nothing groundbreaking, even though he’s pretending that is: “If I had no legs I’d still be outstanding.”

Ray Garraty

Nick Mazzarella / Quin Kirchner — See or Seem: Live at the Hyde Park Jazz Festival (Out Of Your Head)

See or Seem: Live at the Hyde Park Jazz Festival by Nick Mazzarella / Quin Kirchner

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this recording is that the titular festival happened at all. While most festivals either canceled or went on line, Chicago’s Hyde Park Jazz Festival dealt with COVID by spreading out. Instead of big stages and indoor shows, last September it staged little pop-up events on sidewalks and in parks. So, if the sound of See or Seem feels a bit diffuse, it’s because it was recorded with a device propped in front of two guys playing on a grassy median. There are moments when the buzz of bugs rises up for a second behind Nick Mazzarella’s darting alto sax and Quin Kirchner’s brisk, mercurial beats. But the thrill of actually playing in front of some people (or actually being surrounded by them; when there’s no stage and social distancing is in effect, it makes sense to walk slow circles around the performers) infuses this music, extracting an extra ounce of joyousness from Mazzarella’s free, boppish lines, and adding a restlessness charge to the drumming, as though Kirchner really wanted to squeeze as much music as possible into this 31-minute set. This release is part of Out Of Your Head Records’ Untamed series of download-only albums recorded under less than pristine conditions. A portion of each title’s income is directed to a charity of the artists’ choice; the duo selected St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital.

Bill Meyer

Dean McPhee — Witch’s Ladder (Hood Faire)

Witch's Ladder by Dean McPhee

Finger-picked melodies cut through haunted landscapes of echo and hum on this fourth LP from the British guitarist Dean McPhee. Track titles like “The Alchemist” and “Witch’s Ladder” evoke the supernatural, as does the spectral ambient tone, reminiscent of Chuck Johnson’s recent Cinder Grove or Mark Nelson’s last Pan•American album. Yet while an e-bow traces ghostly chills through “The Alder Tree,” there’s also a grounding in lovely, well-rooted folk forms; it’s like seeing a familiar landscape in moonlight, well-known landmarks suddenly turned unearthly and strange. The long closing title track has an introspective air. Pensive, jazz-infused runs flower into bright bursts of notes, not quite blues, not quite folk, not quite jazz, not quite anything but gorgeous.

Jennifer Kelly

Moontype — Bodies of Water (Born Yesterday)

Bodies of Water by Moontype

Margaret McCarthy’s voice swims across your headphones like being on an innertube drifting languidly downstream. Typically, saying someone’s vocals are like water indicates a degree of timidity or laziness, obscured in reverb or simply buried by the mix, but on Moontype’s debut LP, it’s a compliment: McCarthy floats across the different styles of music she makes with guitarist Ben Cruz and drummer Emerson Hunton. You notice it not just because she often sings of water or because it’s right there in the title, but also because the Chicago trio hasn’t settled on any particular style yet — just listen to the three-song stretch at the heart of the record where achingly beautiful alt-country ballad “3 Weeks” leads into “When You Say Yes,” a sub-three-minute power-pop number Weezer ought to be jealous of, followed immediately by crunching alt-rock swoon and first single “Ferry.” All the while, McCarthy lets her melodies drift to the will of the songs. I’m reminded of recent efforts from Great Grandpa, Squirrel Flower and Lucy Dacus, but the brief, jazzy curveball of “Alpha” is a peek into whole other possibilities. Bodies of Water is a fine record, but perhaps its most exciting aspect is how much ground you can see Moontype has already conquered. One can’t help but wonder what sonic worlds awash in water await.

Patrick Masterson

Rob Noyes / Joseph Allred — Avoidance Language (Feeding Tube)

Avoidance Language by Rob Noyes and Joseph Allred

The 12-string guitar can emit such a prodigious amount of sound, and there are two of them on Avoidance Language. If Joseph Allred and Rob Noyes had planned things out in order to avoid canceling each other out, they might never have picked their instruments up, so they just started playing and listening. The result is not so much a summing of two broad spectrums of sound, but an instinctual blending of similar textures that ends up sounding significantly different from what either musician does on their own. Even when Allred switches to harmonium or banjo, as he does on the album’s two shorter tracks, the music rushes in torrential fashion. Their collaboration is so compatible that it often seems more like a recital for one big stringed thing played by one four-handed musician than a doubled instrumental duet.

Bill Meyer

NRCSSSST — S-T (Slimstyle)

NRCSSST by NRCSSST

There’s no “I” in NRCSSSST but there’s plenty of swagger. The Atlanta-based synth pop band, formed around Coathangers drummer and singer Stephanie Luke and Dropsonic’s Dan Dixon, taunts and teases in its opening salvo “All I Ever Wanted.” Luke rasps appealingly atop Spoon-style piano banging, and big shout along choruses erupt from sudden flares of synths. It’s all hedonism, but done with conviction. You haven’t heard a big rock song kick up this much fun in ages. “Love Suicide” bangs just as hard, its bass line muttering like a crazy person, unstable and ready to explode (and yet it doesn’t, it maintains its restraint even when the rest of the cut goes deliriously off the rails). Dixon can really sing, too, holding the long vibrating notes that lift these prickly jams into anthemry. It’s been a while since a band reminded me of INXS and U2 without sucking, but here we are. Sometimes guilty pleasures are just pleasures.

Jennifer Kelly

Zeena Parkins / Mette Rasmussen /Ryan Sawyer — Glass Triangle (Relative Pitch)

Glass Triangle by Zeena Parkins, Mette Rasmussen, Ryan Sawyer

Harpist Zeena Parkins and Ryan Sawyer have a long-standing partnership in the trio substitutes Moss Garden, a chamber improv ensemble with pianist Ryan Ross. But swapping in Danish alto saxophonist Mette Rasmussen brings about a change, not just in instrumentation, but attitude. She plays free jazz like a punk, impatient and aggressive, and Parkins and Sawyer are up for the challenge. This music often plays out like a battle between two titans, one blowing and the other pummeling, while Parkins seeks to liquify the ground upon which they stand. She sticks exclusively to an electric harp whose effects-laden tone is disorientingly alien, blinking beacon-like one moment, low as a backhoe engage in earth removal the next. The combination of new and old relationships promotes a combination of instability and trust that yields splendid results.

Bill Meyer

claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams)

a softer focus by claire rousay

In film, soft focus is a technique of contrast reduction that lends a scene a dreamlike quality. With A Softer Focus, claire rousay imbues her already intimate compositions with a noctilucent aura. She has created a dreamworld with sound. One glimpse at the glowing flowers that grace the cover art created by visual artist Dani Toral, with whom rousay closely collaborated on this release, and the illusory nature of the record is revealed. The reds, oranges, blues and purples of deep twilight are reflected in both the textures rousay weaves into her soundscapes and the visual themes that Toral conjures. Violin, cello, piano and synth are the musical origins of this warmth, which rousay wraps around environments crafted from the sounds of everyday life. She recorded herself moving about her apartment, visiting a farmer’s market, observing kids playing and just existing. These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical. Snatches of conversation become incantations; auto-tuned vocals are the whisperings of spirits; fireworks explode into brilliant shards of crystal. With A Softer Focus, rousay takes a glimpse into the beauty of the everyday, showing us just how precious our most humdrum moments can be.

Bryon Hayes

Axel Rulay x Verbo Flow — Si Es Trucho Es Trucho / Axel Rulay (La Granja)

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Axel Rulay must be kicking himself right now. With more than three million plays on the original version and more than five million on the remix that adds verses from Farruko and El Alfa into the fray, the Dominican is cruising into our second pandemic summer with an unbeatable poolside anthem — and to think, after years of clawing his way up through the industry dregs, working to get his name out there, all he had to do was make himself the chorus over Venezuelan producer Manybeat’s 2019 tropical house trip “El Tiempo.” Presto: Massive visibility in the Spanish-speaking world and a song that ought to transcend any linguistic barriers unlocked even if the best I can manage is a title that translates as “If It’s Trout It’s Trout.” Expect that long-desired Daddy Yankee collabo to follow any day now.

Patrick Masterson

Rx Nephew — Listen Here Are You Here to Hear Me (NewBreedTrapper)

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Rochester rapper Rx Nephew trailed brother-turned-archrival-turned-back Rx Papi’s coming out party 100 Miles and Walk’in by just a few weeks with the 53-minute all-in proposition Listen Here Are You Here to Hear Me. Unlike Papi’s Max B-ish smoothness, Nephew is all rough n’ tumble through these 17 tracks, provocative pump action with narrative bursts of violence and street hustling delivered with a verve most akin to DaBaby or, in some of his more elastic enunciations, peak Ludacris. A recent Creative Hustle interview provides some insight: The first time he went into the booth, “I didn’t write anything. I just started talking about selling crack and robbing people.” The stories haven’t stopped since. If he can keep putting out music as engaging as Listen Here…, Rx Nephew is destined for more than just the margins; until then, we have one of the year’s densest rap records to hold the line.

Patrick Masterson

Nick Schofield — Glass Gallery (Backward Music)

Glass Gallery by Nick Schofield

Nick Schoefield, out of Montreal, composed these 13 tracks entirely on a vintage Prophet 600, the first synthesizer to designed to employ the then-new MIDI standard established by the instrument’s inventor Dave Smith and Roland’s Ikutaru Kakahashi. The instrument has a lovely, crystalline quality, floating effortless arpeggios through vaulting sonic spaces. Though clearly synthesized, these pieces of music resonate in serene and peaceful ways, evoking light, water, air and contemplation with a simplicity that evokes Japan. “Water Court” drips notes of startling purity into deep pools of tone-washed whoosh and hum. “Snow Blue Square” flutters an oboe-like melody over eddying gusts of keyboard motifs. The pieces fit together with calm precision, leading from one beautiful space to the next like a stroll through a museum.

Jennifer Kelly

Archie Shepp — Blasé And Yasmina Revisited (Ezz-thetics)

The Ezz-thetics campaign to keep the best of mid-20th century free jazz on CD shelves (yes, CD, not streaming or LP) breaches the walls of the BYG catalog with a disc that issues one and a half albums from Archie Shepp’s busy week in August 1969. Blasé is a stand-out for the participation of singer Jeanne Lee, whose indomitable and flexible delivery as equal to the demands of material that’s be turns pungently earthy and steeped in antiquity. But the rest of the band, which includes Philly Joe Jones, Dave Burrell, some harmonica players, and a couple members of the Art Ensemble, is also more than equal to the task of filtering the blues and Ellingtonia through the gestures of the then-contemporary avant-garde. “Yasmina,” which originally occupied one side of another LP, makes sense here as an extension of the raw, rippling “Touareg,” the last tune on Blasé, into exultantly African territory.

Bill Meyer

Juanita Stein — Snapshot (Handwritten)

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Juanita Stein was the cool, serene, Mazzy Star-evoking vocal presence in the Aussie dream-gaze outfit Howling Bells, and she plays more or less the same role on her third solo album. Yet she is also the source of mayhem here, kicking up an angst of guitar-freaked turmoil on “1,2,3,4,5,6” then soothing it away with singing, hanging long threads of feedback from the thump-thump-thumping blues-rock architecture of “L.O.T.F.” and crooning dulcetly, but with a little yip, in the trance-y title track. This latter cut reflects on the death of her father, a kindred soul who wrote a couple of Howling Bells songs for her and passed away recently. It distills a palpable ache into pure, distanced poetry, finding a cool, dispassionate way to consider the mysteries of human loss.

Jennifer Kelly

The Tiptons Sax Quartet & Drums — Wabi Sabi (Sowiesound)

Wabi Sabi by Tiptons Sax Quartet & Drums

Over its 30 years together, the Tiptons Sax Quartet has done less to hone its sound and more to figure out how many styles to embrace. The group (typically a soprano, alto, tenor, and baritone sax joined by percussion and even including some vocals) can dig into trad jazz but sounds more at home in exploration, adapting world music or other traditional American styles. The title of their latest album, Wabi Sabi refers to the Japanese concept of finding beauty in and accepting imperfection. The Tiptons, despite that sentiment, don't approach their play with a sloppy sound; in fact, they're as tight as ever. The understanding of impermanence and imperfection does help contextualize their risk-taking. When they turn to odd yodeling on “Moadl Joadl,” they find joy in an odd vocal moment that highlights expression and discovery over formal rigor. When they tap in New Orleans energy for “Jouissance,” we can connect the dots between parades and funerals, celebrating all the while. The whole album serves as a tour of styles and moods, always with an energetic potency. If it's more of the same from the Tiptons, that just means continuance of difference.

Justin Cober-Lake

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

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AND THAT MIGHT BE A GOOD THING FOR COMPANIES TO DO, SO HERE IS ANOTHER PLACE WHERE STARTUPS HAVE AN ADVANTAGE

But in fact there are limits on what programmers can do. I'm not proposing this as a new idea. The compartmentalized structure of the business means that you want to really understand Lisp, or just expand your programming horizons, I would say that. When I say that the answer is yes, because YC is an improved version of what theoretical computer science is the theory of computation. It will be easier in proportion to how much your town resembles San Francisco. If we're all going to be about. They're not allowed to be published until 1996. I learned to program, we had to rely mostly on examples in books. Within large organizations, their own confidence would have been for two Google employees to focus on the wrong things for six months, and the odds of finding smart professors are even better. Investors mainly contribute money, which in principle is the same no matter what the source. This seems to be working, and it had better do what they want either.

That's an alarming possibility when you have to write a program depends mostly on seniority. Someone who doesn't know what a programming language should, like oil paint, make it easy to change your mind. Both languages are of course moving targets. How much would that take? We can learn more about someone in the first 5 minutes. This sort of thing was the rule, not the exception. A bottom-up programming. Because the main points are unconnected, the list of n things.

In Lisp, all variables are effectively pointers. And so while you needed expressions for math to work, and can't tell one programming language from another, and yet he knows what language you should write it in Java. Wouldn't that at least decrease inequality? Relentless. Once you sink that low, other countries can do whatever they have to. Ken Anderson says that the following code is about as close as you can get, and wait for your competitors' pointy-haired boss? We're so different from VCs that we're really a different kind of animal—so much smaller that all the rules are different. Wouldn't that at least decrease inequality? By 1969, when Ted Kennedy drove off the bridge at Chappaquiddick, the limit seemed to be down to one.

Far from it. The first thing to understand is that encouraging startups is a rare and valuable skill, and the paper becomes a proxy for the achievement represented by the software. It falls between what and how: architects decide what to do without understanding how to do it, you'll just get a lot of pressure to use what are perceived as standard technologies. If you look inside good software, you find that there are degrees of coolness. And what happens at Y Combinator is get startups launched straight. Your programs might not work well with programs written in other languages, of course. It's unrealistic to expect that the specifications for a program will be perfect. That's why our motto is Make something people want is the destination, but Be relentlessly resourceful is the recipe for success.

If you're going to write when you start. In fact, they're lucky by comparison. If you're lucky you can get away with using the most advanced of them are fairly close to Lisp. Those who bet on economies of scale were not the only force at work. Those who bet on economies of scale generally won, which meant the largest organizations were the most successful ones. I was writing a talk for investors, and I am not surprised to hear it. In fact, choosing a more powerful one than he had intended.

Number 1, languages vary in power. Boy, was I wrong. And there is no correlation, except possibly a negative one, between people's ability to recognize good design and their confidence that they can accelerate fast. They ask whatever it is they're asking in such a cavalier fashion. These guys entered a market already dominated by two big, entrenched competitors, Travelocity and Expedia, and seem to have rooted themselves in Tampa on $118k, but they're nothing like the stamp of destiny so many imagine them to be engineers. We see this already begining to happen in the Python example, where we are. The most powerful form of disagreement, and probably soon stop noticing that the building they work in says computer science on the outside. If you don't know you need to, and the transition from starting a company to actually doing it.

That's the nature of platforms. If anyone wants to write one I'd be very curious to see it, but I know that when it comes to code I behave in a way that would make them move. If they didn't move. The critical thing in both cases is that they drift just the right amount. Whereas hackers, from the example of painting can teach us not only how to manage our own work, but how would they choose valuations for the startups? How well this scheme worked would depend on the quality of the companies they invest in, not how cheaply they can buy stock in them. When aimed squarely at the original argument, it can be convincing. And if you want to know whether to recruit someone as a cofounder, ask if they are.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #limits #competitors #idea #fashion #Google #outside #correlation #form

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letterboxd · 4 years

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One in a Kajillion.

Kajillionaire writer and director Miranda July tells Ella Kemp about soap suds, pink nails, Evan Rachel Wood’s impressive tuck-and-roll skills, and the playfulness of queer culture. “What is natural is pretty up for grabs.”

Welcome to the world of Miranda July: marshmallow-pink soap bubbles leak through the walls, love is transactional, Bobby Vinton’s ‘Mr. Lonely’ is our national anthem. The indomitable and elusive auteur—also performance artist, actor, novelist, mother and musician—has gifted the world her third feature as director, Kajillionaire, a heist movie, love story and family portrait all wrapped up in a delicate, if a little lopsided, bow.

July stays firmly behind the camera here, after taking lead roles in her first two feature-length films, Me And You And Everyone We Know and The Future. But the filmmaker’s voice is so sharp that her absence is never felt, as we watch Evan Rachel Wood, Gina Rodriguez, Debra Winger and Richard Jenkins bring her story to life. “There’s lots of parts of my other movies I’m not in, and if anything it’s a hassle when I’m in it,” July tells us over the telephone. “My leading ladies were one hundred percent dedicated here, whereas I would have to shift back and forth, so there’s really no sense of loss.”

Writer-director Miranda July on the set of ‘Kajillionaire’.

Those leading ladies begin with Wood as Old Dolio. She is the daughter of Theresa (Winger) and Robert (Jenkins), who have raised her with the thrill of a heist in her heart. The family dynamic is all business; the unit functions as a mob crew, forever planning the next con. This gives Old Dolio a laser focus on the job, and a painfully obvious lack of tenderness in her life. It’s when the family meets Melanie (Rodriguez) during an ambitious con that Old Dolio’s world cracks open. While her parents see Melanie—all heat and curves—as an asset to their schemes, Old Dolio—lank hair and shapeless clothes—feels something else, something she doesn’t yet recognize.

Those familiar with Wood’s work elsewhere might be taken aback. Old Dolio is immediately and consistently unpredictable, with a chilly lack of emotion that comes from simply not knowing where to find it. She has clearly been raised in an environment that prioritizes hustle over love, and this converges in Wood’s voice: a low, monotone register that’s never questioned on screen, and which somehow feels entirely normal for July’s uncanny world, but surely hides something potent to be explored.

“I would have never asked an actor to do that,” July says of Wood’s register-change. “It seems a bit too much, and really risky.” That’s surprising: July’s films, with their brazen singularity and offbeat humor, could be the sort that would savor such a vocal transformation as a playful quirk. It’s refreshing and illuminating to hear how, actually, it was a perfect coincidence. “When we were rehearsing, Evan said that her original register was that much lower, but she used to get vocal nodules and so trained her voice higher, which is the one people know now,” July explains. “But she said she was just as comfortable being lower, so I asked if she could stay there for the whole film. I noticed right away when she dropped down, she dropped into character.”

Gina Rodriguez, Richard Jenkins and Evan Rachel Wood in ‘Kajillionaire’.

Although July will never reveal all her secrets, nothing happens by chance. Old Dolio’s voice exemplifies Kajillionaire’s careful understanding of fluid, curious sexuality that survives and thrives in the spaces where people are just figuring things out. It’s not about seducing, but learning and adapting. “Voices, like hair, are things that we play with at different times in our life,” says July. “Certainly in queer culture, it wouldn’t be unheard of for someone to deepen their voice, consciously or with hormones. I like that it’s a little surprising. What is natural is pretty up for grabs.”

Debra Winger, too, is unrecognizably compelling. As entertaining as Kajillionaire’s characters are, there’s a faint air of menace about Theresa and Robert, as they always and only have one thing on their minds. “The actors took flight,” July explains. “They did so much I couldn’t have expected, and for someone like me who is so used to doing things all alone, that feels like gold.”

Comedy breathes through both July’s whip-smart script and her actors’ precision-engineered physicality. Theresa, Robert and Old Dolio tense up in the same way to process their fear of flying, they limbo along a very specific part of a street to avoid making eye contact with their landlord. “I don’t know how to do a tuck-and-roll, I can’t do the limbo like Evan can!” July laughs. “There were things I had come up with that were almost abstract, but she could do everything and take it really far.”

The relationship between Old Dolio and Melanie is just as disorienting as the one between Old Dolio and her parents, and between her parents and Melanie. Old Dolio attends parenting classes to better understand the ways her parents behave; Melanie offers to fill that gap for a very specific sum of money; Theresa and Robert search for ways to understand pleasure, to feel that they, as individual people, matter in a world lived on the outskirts of ‘normal’.

Richard Jenkins, Debra Winger and Evan Rachel Wood in ‘Kajillionaire’.

It’s why Bobby Vinton’s 1962 heartbreaker ‘Mr. Lonely’ feels like a perfect hymn for these odd souls to explore what they’re missing. The familiar theme returns throughout the film, and there’s now a cover of the track by Angel Olsen on an ‘inspired by’ record. Olsen adds a sense of guttural melancholy that still has bite. The cover was the idea of Kajillionaire composer Emile Mosseri (who changed the game with his work on The Last Black Man in San Francisco).

“Not many people can sing like that,” July says. “We were sending each other some of her songs while shooting anyway, just as inspiration. It’s very modern when sung by a woman, and of course in the film Old Dolio is Mr. Lonely—but you don’t get the gender twist of it when it’s sung by Bobby Vinton.”

Mosseri’s own ethereal score—an orchestral, very old-Hollywood waltzing theme—makes so much of the film feel like a projection of make-believe, dotted with images that could only be plucked from our unconscious. But, July says: “None of these images literally come from dreams.” (Although she admitted earlier this year that the name Old Dolio came from a friend’s dream about a list of cat names).

Still, detailing the poetry behind a key ethereal image, the filmmaker’s curiosity and sensitivity is undeniable. “There is something very sexy to me about those pink nails coming off,” she says of a scene in which Old Dolio carefully peels off Melanie’s acrylics one by one, as a swirling soundtrack fills the air and the light in a grubby diner turns golden. “I was always trying to find ways that Old Dolio could be in a little over her head and accidentally show her cards, even though she might be fighting against her feelings about Melanie. I guess those nails would seem entirely foreign to her, so she would approach them in this animal way.”

We feel compelled to ask July about another unshakeable image: the glittering suds that Old Dolio and her parents face every day in the rented office space they call home, oozing through the walls from the business next door. Does it make sense? Will it ever be fixed? Can you love something so destructive?

“I was trying to figure out why the rent would be cheap enough for them to afford that place,” July says, matter of fact. “There would have to be something really wrong with it. But then I thought, why not make it beautiful also?” And it’s as simple as that. Something inherently wrong, inexplicable, still so luxurious it stays lodged in your brain. Such is the slippery, effervescent brilliance of Miranda July and Kajillionaire.

Related content

Miranda July’s favorite films

Dominic Corry’s interview with Miranda for Letterboxd’s Sundance 2020 coverage

I May Destroy You: Michaela Cole’s series is Miranda’s recommendation for what to watch after you’ve watched Kajillionaire

Follow Ella Kemp on Letterboxd

‘Kajillionaire’ is in US theaters where possible now, in UK theaters on October 9, and will be on video on demand on October 16.

#miranda july #kajillionaire #focus features #sony film #evan rachel wood #gina rodriguez #debra winger #directed by women #female filmmaker #ella kemp #letterboxd #angel olsen #richard jenkins

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signor-signor · 4 years

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Trending 27th - January 2020

What have been your efforts in the campaign for SaveWOY and what are your upcoming plans to save WOY? Now this is a question worth answering!

In the past, I made a little list of the things I did to support SaveWOY and bring awareness to Wander Over Yonder’s existence and its third season plans. Since then, I’ve done a whole lot more from hand-drawn art to more intricate art. Some of them are almost as special as that signed poster @peepsqueak got from the WOY crew as a token of their gratitude.

Here’s an updated list of everything I did for SaveWOY so far:

Attended the SaveWOY picnic at Griffith Park, where I got to sign a banner.

Pointed out various higher-ups involved in the business of Disney television.

Sent several letters to the higher-ups, some of which had envelopes with an image of the downed space pod taped to them.

Started a weekly Twitter post series, SaveWOY Thought of the Week.

Made Lite-Brite art of Wander and Lord Hater, which Craig McCracken and Francisco Angones liked.

Attended D23 2017 with an Operation: FORCE drawing of Hater, a colored page of Wander and Sylvia and a few facts about WOY, and an orange pen with a green hat (I got the hat from the aforementioned picnic) - there, I signed a bench with Wander and the phrase, “Never hurts to help.”

Signed my name, drew Wander (and my own character, Jacken DeBox), and wrote, “Happiest place in outer space!” on the highest beam for Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge.

Wrote a letter (and drew Wander) for the victims of the Las Vegas tragedy with the message, “The darkest times call for the sunniest smiles!”

Got Craig to reveal the name of the ship (said to play a BIG part in S3, made a cameo in Future-Worm) when I commented that we’d have to figure out the name - his response: “The ship is called The Star Nomad.”

Wrote a couple of cards to two Disney higher-ups with the message, “A little nice makes naughty think twice!”

Drew Dominator in a situation that might take place several seconds after she passes the downed space pod, just in time for Noël Wells’s B-day.

Made the Star Nomad with LEGO Digital Designer.

Made three images in the style of the original Star Wars trilogy VHS set.

Posted 50 WOYS3PredictionPolls on Twitter.

Made an image of “The First 5 Years” with over 140 individuals (including the question marks for 3 new mains and 2 new regulars - I still want to know what they look like!) and one cleverly made Hidden Mickey.

Shared WOY-related images from my 1st 5 Years fan art on Twitter acknowledging the B-days of most of the voice actors (Charlie Adler, Kevin Michael Richardson, Ken Marino, Josh Sussman, H. Michael Croner, James Adomian, Jason Ritter, and Piotr Michael clearly noticed).

Typed a summary of how I think the S3 premiere would go.

Typed lyrics to “Let’s Go Soarin’ and Explorin’,” a song from my aforementioned S3 premiere summary. Wouldn’t it be great if Andy Bean used it?

Made a microgame with WarioWare: D.I.Y. where the player has to spin the fan to make the Star Nomad fly. Part of a chorus from “Let’s Go Soarin’ and Explorin’” included.

Started FanCharacterFriday on Twitter - more Tumblr users seem to like Dr. Otmar Vunderbar.

Made a short comic page of Lord Hater trying to break out of the DTVA vault plus a sly reminder that Disney owns the rights to WOY.

Shared a list of potential episode titles for S3.

Made an actual LEGO Star Nomad based on the model made with LDD. Hopefully, those who worked on WOY have noticed. In case you missed it, here’s a picture...

Now, the ideas I have in mind for further boosting support for the campaign. I may not be able to do most of them myself, but they are certainly for everyone’s consideration.

Provide updated information of higher-ups (if any).

As soon as we find out what Kid Cosmic looks like, expect fan art of him saying, “Watch my show and tell your friends so we’ll make that Mousey Company pay for what they did to my half-brother!”

Another SaveWOY picnic - if there’s one in my general area, you can count me in.

LP album artwork of My Fair Hatey.

A mural identical to that of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate consisting of not just characters from WOY, but also characters who were said to debut in S3 and characters who’d fit in perfectly, namely some of my OCs.

Pumpkin stencils of the main characters for Halloween.

Drawings of various WOY characters stuck on the ex-secret planet explaining why they need to leave said planet. Maybe I could also show how the galaxy’s villains would react if they learn that Lord Dominator’s been bested by Lord Hater.

Drawings consisting of SaveWOY-related messages spoken by the main characters from Disney shows that got at least three seasons (e.g. DuckTales, Fish Hooks), tons of love from the viewers and the executives (e.g. Gravity Falls), or both (e.g. SvtFoE, Mickey Mouse ‘13).

Example with Phineas and Ferb:

Phineas: “We may be creative and famous, but we’re not the ones who came up with the Star Nomad. It’s the ship powered by orbbles! Orbbles! I’d LOVE to see it take flight, wouldn’t you? If you let Mr. McCracken end the show his way, and not the executive way, which, truth be told, is the absolute worst, Wander will surely be elated!”

Ferb: “The Orbble Transporter was invented by conjoined twin brothers, voiced by the performers of the theme song.”

Irving (peeking in from the side): “Speaking of voices, the titular main character sounds JUST LIKE ME! How could you possibly resist?! And look, just because I’m the biggest fan of these guys (gesturing to P&F) doesn’t mean I have no interest in what’s planned for the furry orange fella!”

Since I’m a full-time Disneyland cast member, I should be able to make contacts with anyone who might have more clues about what S3 would entail. It might be a long shot, but if I’m able to convince Disney that WOY’s influence on my life boosted my chance at gaining employment at the company, they should understand.

A weekly Jeopardy-type pop quiz on Twitter - here’s the catch: you must refrain from finding information online when you read the answer (I bet you that the most hardcore fans of the most popular shows will get most of the questions wrong).

Example: This arachnomorph got his name from a dog tag he swallowed when he infiltrated a fish-shaped ship. He later became Lord Hater’s beloved pet.

-Who is Captain Tim?

Summaries of S3 episodes I made up myself a while back.

More fan-made characters - my most recent is an elected official of Cluckon, Mayor Spye C. Drumstick.

Conjuring a logo that best fits the status of S3/TV movie - Wander Over Yonder: The New Galaxy (the center would have the silhouette of the Star Nomad with Wander and Sylvia on it).

Brainstorming possible ideas for the three new main characters.

If all else fails, I suggest we make a web comic based on the hints we accumulated back in 2016 and what we learned from the cameo in Future-Worm’s finale. Team Sea3on has been taking that approach for SatAM Sonic the Hedgehog S3, though they are also making an animated version.

That’s about all I’ve got so far. In closing, I have several questions to ask as the new decade kicks off.

Disney executives: Are you even listening to us WOY fans? What more do you want? I’ve done so much for the campaign that I feel I’m entitled to know everything that was planned for WOY’s third and final season, especially now that I’m working full-time for your company. If you tell us what your demands are, we’d be happy to oblige.

@crackmccraigen: Are you aware of how hard the fans and I have been trying to talk Disney into giving you the chance for true closure? We’ll make sure we watch KC when it comes out on Netflix. If we’re lucky, we might see WOY get added to Disney+, where it should get that closure, assuming you’ll have finished KC your way before then.

@suspendersofdisbelief: I know you’re super busy with DuckTales and you love the plans for WOY S3 so much that you can’t bear to reveal it all in one post, but it’s been waaaay too long since we got any hints from you. Are there any other WOY S3-related facts you could describe in much greater detail? The campaign could do with more motivation.

Non-WOY fans: Are you convinced? Need I remind you what’s in the end tag of the “last” episode of WOY? You know there’s much more to life than tales from the land of Ooo, a blue middle school cat boy in a world of unusual individuals, adolescent twins in an Oregon town filled with oddities, a half-gem half-human protagonist, a coming-of-age princess of Mewni, a trio of ursine trend-followers in San Francisco, and all that jazz. If you’re not one bit interested in Hater’s origin story and all that was planned for S3, it’s your loss.

Pessimists: Will you please dispense with this unnerving “Wander is dead” talk? As a certain Popeye would say, “That’s all I can stands, I can’t stands no more!” You’re not trying to let the Disney bosses win, are you? You probably used to think previously canceled shows like Hey Arnold!, Samurai Jack, and Young Justice could never be brought back. The point is, all is not lost.

@peepsqueak and WOY fans/SaveWOY supporters: Have I been of assistance? Almost every remark I’ve ever made shows wit and perception. I mean, just think. Wander is still stuck in that vault where his goal of reforming Lord Hater remains incomplete, and he has no idea of what threat awaits him. He says, “Glorn, help us.” It’ll take something big and extraordinary to convince every Disney fan (and perhaps every Netflix fan) to talk some sense into the higher-ups. Not to mention the replacement/back-up voice actors we’ll have to find if Disney takes even longer (we already lost one - René Auberjonois). We shan’t rest until we get the answers!

@disneyanimation

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s1cparvism4gna · 3 years

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I Like You A Lot

WARNINGS: cursing and violence

Pairings: Chloe Frazer x Nadine Ross x OC

Tags: @desertvvitch , @courtenbae

Chapter 11

Sunny’s POV

We’d gone through another fort, tucked in a lakebed this time. We ended up going there first instead of the mountain. It was closer than we thought. This job seemed absolutely keen on testing my patience. I’m not sure if anyone really has noticed, but me and heights are not friends. Not even in the slightest. Try as I might, I just couldn’t deal with the fact that one day I might fuck up and fall into the unknown. But with Chloe’s coaching, I managed to be able to climb a couple of cliffs without a massive panic attack. Nadine, who I thought would tease me the most, was actually the most nurturing if you could believe it. And once again, we’d fought through a small clan of insurgents. Afterwards, we found another puzzle, just like the first. With the disc in its slot, I was able to jumble about pieces that formed into a bow and arrow this time. A little more difficult though as the pieces seemed to rotate around each other. But I handled it. It was easier than most puzzles I was subjected to solving. Just like before, the puzzle’s panel flipped, displaying a carved image of Parashurama and bars jutted out from the sides. Knowing what to do, Nadine and Chloe went to turn the crank.

“Alright let's do this.” Nadine said as I took a few steps back but Chloe stopped her.

“Now, now- hold on. What’s to say it’s water again? What if it’s like… fire or something this time?” She asked with a straight face. Nadine narrowed her eyes at her and shook her head.

“You’re messing with me.” Nadine said cautiously.

“Am I?” Chloe asked with a smirk. Nadine stared at her a bit longer before Chloe’s smile cracked. “I’m totally messing with you.” She chuckled. This woman had a talent for making lies sound factual. A talent much like a certain Drake I knew. She could deep fry a rat and tell me it was chicken and I’d believe her. The more I drew these similarities to each other, the more insecure I became. She was just like him…. just his type. My heart shattered at the thought of them being together again. I needed to see him. All I wanted to do was punch him for being an idiot. I sighed and began to light myself a cigarette as they turned the cranked. Again, water began to swell beneath us and burst out of the gutter in front of the platform. Another waterfall began to form in the relief that could be seen from all distances.

“Hm. I’m a little disappointed it isn’t fire.” Chloe said, elbowing Nadine in her side. A small smile threatened to pull on her lips before she began watching the waterfall. I could sense a bit of frustration from her.

“The Hoysala went to an absurd amount of trouble to hide the tusk.” She said, pacing back and forth behind her. Chloe shrugged and put her binoculars away.

“Welp. The Tusk was the symbol of Hoysala dominance. Representing their wealth and their might…” Chloe explained.

“Like a trophy… The Persians definitely would’ve wanted that.” I mumbled loud enough for her to hear. She snapped and finger gunned me for a split second before zoning out again.

“My dad always thought that the tusk was something even greater though…” She hummed.

“Wait. Your dad was after the tusk?” Nadine asked. The story just kept growing.

“Oh, my dad was obsessed with it.” Chloe said, her brows crinkled together in what seemed like resentment. I readjusted myself against a pillar as I listened to her talk. “All our money wasted on fruitless expeditions…”

“Heard that one before…” Nadine seemed to understand what that felt like. Me on the other hand… I only wished my dad had left on account of some great adventure. But no. He just couldn’t stand being around me anymore. I couldn’t relate. Nadine nodded her head as she began to piece Chloe’s story together. This was the most she’d ever revealed herself. To anyone. “So what came of it?” She asked. Chloe looked about aimlessly as she scrambled her brain for the answer. But the truth…

“I don’t know…..” she sighed as she tilted her head, her voice dripping in disappointment. She chuckled as she began to reminisce on the shitty times. “Well he sent me and my mum away…. Said it was no longer safe… and off to Australia we went….” she sighed uncomfortably. I frowned and hung my head, pulling in my cigarette and exhaling smoke. “And now here I stand….. on the outskirts of Halebidu…. that’s pretty funny.” It was crazy how life worked. How her father could never get close to this and yet Chloe has gotten closer than he ever could. If anyone deserves to find this thing, it was definitely her.

“Well at least your accent makes sense now…” Nadine chuckled softly. “Frazer’s not exactly an Indian surname either…”

“It was my mum’s.” Chloe said simply as she pulled her map to mark it up again.

“Speaking of accents… I’ve been meanin’ to ask you, Nadine… What in the fuck is your accent?!” I asked, trying to break the ice. I’d suddenly gotten tired of holding so much animosity. Nadine burst into a giggle.

“South African. Yours?”

“Texan. Nothin’ real special. I don’t speak in cursive like y’all.” I chuckled, pulling on my cigarette. Nadine suddenly giggled a little.

“Cursive. Wow.” Chloe laughed. I patted her on the shoulder on my way out.

“Let’s get goin’.” I grinned.

The way down was much easier than the way up. A passageway that wasn’t there before opened up and led us right to where we parked the 4x4. We began driving so as to not waste any time. I looked at Nadine in the side view mirror and her light eyes seemed to wander all over the place as she thought.

“It’s interesting. I get why Asav wants the tusk now. I thought maybe he just wanted it for the money like us.”

“He’ll use it to rally people to his cause. Wave it in the government’s face. Just like all the other times.”

“The other times? This happened before?” I asked in confusion.

“Oh yeah. Ever since the young king lost to the Persians. Everyone’s wanted to lay claim to it. To this land.”

“I thought this was just a treasure hunt...” Nadine commented.

“It is. Let men like Asav fight over it. It’s none of our concern— SHIT!”

Suddenly, a ball of fire seemed to fly right by us and land on the rocky wall near us, causing a huge explosion. The car bounced back a little from the force but it was fine nonetheless. Posted up on the ruins was another troop of men, taking deadly aim and firing at us from a distance with what looked like a China Lake. Mud kicked up at the spin of the wheels and the engine growled as Chloe whipped the vehicle about. She powered through as another one flew near but missed us and hit the ground before us. Nadine and I pulled our guns and began firing away as cover. Bullet sprayed across the field as we traded shots. And almost a little too easily, Chloe managed to get us out of there quickly and unharmed. “She who drives away, lives another day, I say!” She chuckled as I placed a hand over my heart to calm myself. I still hadn’t relaxed from the last fight. Another bout of adrenaline began to surge and I groaned. This job was a tease. I wanted action; I wanted to blow shit up, stab something, knock a couple heads. And every time I got the littlest taste, it was soon over. It was frustrating really. I just wanted to take some stress out on these guys and it wasn’t happening!

“You do realize fighting wars was my concern for a time.” Nadine mentioned.

“You did it for money though.” I pointed out.

“Usually.”

“And what about for Asav? What was that for?” I asked. She scoffed.

“Definitely a cash grab. Hardly worth the trouble.” She said. Chloe and I squealed like the couple of girls we were.

“Why do it then?” Chloe asked.

“I needed to establish my rep. So I figured I’d start with the worst of the bunch.”

“Guess from there, there’s nowhere to go but up!” I said with sarcasm. The girls both laughed. For once, the three of us were getting along. And that was good. I couldn’t help but wonder for how long though… We hadn’t run into any real trouble and there was no word from Sam yet. ‘I hope you’re okay…’ I thought for a moment. On one hand, I hoped he was safe and unharmed. On the other, I wanted to beat him up myself. For the meantime, the three of us were handling things just fine on our own. It was nice to be working with women for a change. We were only missing Elena...

For a while we began talking about everything from how we all got our start in the Life, what we’d found, where we’d been… At this point I found out Chloe had never been to the states which was insane! I promised I’d let her visit and that I’d show her around San Francisco. I even thought to invite Nadine if we managed to be cool by the end of this. we’d taken out more insurgents and just like that, we were on our way to the last puzzle. The fort we passed through to get there though, I hated. We had to swim through the lake to get by. Not only were my clothes wet but now so was my hair and my cigarettes… I couldn’t stress it enough: I hated it. Afterwards, the job managed to get a bit more exciting. Things were looking up. Inside a dark and musty room was a newer puzzle; statues that seemed to move with each pillar we stepped on.

“Well I’ll be go to hell… That’s elaborate.” Chloe said as the pillars rose from the ground at the turn of a crank. I stared at the mechanism and then longer at the statue. It was towering and golden, shaped like a warrior with a red jewel stuck in its chest. The faint sunlight that drew in seemed to make it glitter. In its hand was one massive axe. It was old but I was damn sure that thing still worked. Within three steps, the statue had risen its axe and swiped across. I could feel the wind from its quick motions from where I stood. Nervously, I hopped back the way I came in, looking at my path again to make sure it was correct. If I let it hit me, I’d be more than dead.

“Oh fun… Felt that one go by...” I grumbled as Chloe rubbed my shoulders.

“You can do this!” She told me with a fake tone of encouragement.

“Yeah… I got it…” I said, absolutely unsure if I really did. Nadine winced as she looked at the contraption.

“Are you sure you can solve that?” She asked me. I nodded as I ran my fingers through my wet curls and adjusted my pants. I bounced on my toes and shook off the nerves that began to prick at me like needles. Chloe made a face and placed a hand on top of my head.

“I can do this for you if you want, Sun—”

“No, no. I got this…..” I said, eyeballing it a little longer. Then suddenly it clicked for me. I could see the path. “Yeah…. yeah I got this.” I said, jumping onto the first pillar. I was able to get through it and the girls could walk over the pillars without the threat of a swinging statue. On the other side was a cliff and a beautiful view of the mountainous terrain, topped with fog and colorful trees. I watched the look on Nadine’s face as Chloe stopped to marvel at the sight. I punched her in the arm subtly with a teasing smile and she averted her gaze, shaking her head. The three of us ended up taking a selfie in front of the pretty green mountains, bunny fingers, goofy faces and all. It was nice.

As we followed the cliff into another dingy room, we’d come upon another puzzle. Just like the first but with more statues and increasingly more difficult. I sighed.

“Shall I take this one?” Chloe asked me. I shook my head.

“Lemme pull my weight. I got it.” I said. Throughout the trip, I barely contributed anything useful other than brute force. This was the time that I got to actually do something. To prove my worth to the team. I had to just nut up and do it. Although I was still pissed at him, I could hear Sam’s voice in my head. ‘Don’t think about it. Just do it.’ I heard him say, thinking about the way his thumbs would rub over the bone of my hips in comfort. I put a hand on my hip for a moment and took a deep breath before I turned the crank, watching the statues set and the pillars rise from the floor. This time there was one golden warrior statue and two silvers with a blue jewel in its chest. I jumped out to the first pillar and all three statues moved into their ready positions. It was harrowing almost. One wrong move and that was my whole head. I worked out a pattern halfway through until suddenly I had gotten stuck. I’d forgotten which way I’d just come from and I was planted right in front of a statue that was ready to swing at me. I was fucked. Royally. “Um…. g-guys!” I cried out nervously. “I fucked it…. I’m lost!”

“What do you mean ‘you’re lost’?!” Chloe shouted.

“I mean I’m lost, bitch! I fucked up! I don’t remember which pillar I jumped from!” I started to panic, pressing my hands to my cheeks and looking around me. I couldn’t figure out what was next. Surprisingly, Nadine was the calm in the storm.

“That’s okay! I was watching. Just give me a second…” I heard Nadine shout to me. Now my life was in her hands. I could only pray that she didn’t have the hesitation that I did. I crouched to hug my knees as I watched the two women bicker about something; I was too far away to really hear what about. After at least twenty minutes went by, I chewed on my lip anxiously as my mind began to overthink and wonder about all the people I loved in my life. Sweet, sweet Erik. My truest and oldest friend. I’ve treated him horrible the past year. And through it all he still loved me. With every flaw. Kitty Cat… the little sister I’d always wanted. Sure she was a little hard headed; stubborn, mouthy, and maybe even a little bit of an asshole! But I loved her and took care of her to the best of my abilities. Natey; the man who brought me into a better life and took me to places I could only ever dream of. His lovely wife Elena, Chloe, Sully, even Nadine… And Sam. God damn that man. The man who made me suddenly feel and want to feel again. I was then ripped from my depressive thoughts as I heard my name being called from a distance. I stood up and leaned forward, hoping to hear them better.

“Move to your left and jump backwards!” I heard Nadine shout. I did as I was told and the statue before me just missed me. The three of us screamed as it’s axe swiped by, cutting through the air. That gave me three more moves to make. I grinned and looked back at the two.

“Alright, I think I got it now!” I shouted back. I figured out how to get around the third statue and completed the puzzle. The girls were able to jump through safely once again. As soon as Chloe got off her platform, she ran to hug me tightly. It startled me but eventually I settled into it.

“I thought we’d lost you.” She grunted. She hugged me tighter and squished my face with her hands. “Lord knows what I’d tell anybody if anything ever happened to you.”

“That I died being dope. That’s all. That’s the announcement.” I joked, making her giggle. Nadine smiled to herself as she watched Chloe embrace me. After I managed to pry myself from Chloe’s arms, I walked over to Nadine and stuck a hand out to her.

“Thanks… for gettin’ me outta there.” I mumbled. She just smiled and shook my hand.

“Now we’re even.” She said simply. Suddenly, I could hear Chloe groaning in the next room. We ran inside to see what the problem was. When I did, I just about wanted to cry. Another puzzle. Five statues. Three gold, two silver, more nerves.

“Please tell me this is all.” I huffed.

“We’ll watch this time. Just in case you get stuck again.” Nadine told me reassuringly. I nodded at her and turned the crank. I stood at the starting point and the gate dropped down for me to begin. Each pillar in front of a statue made me sweat. Every time seemed like a reminder that my life was in this thing’s grasp. Though this one took a little longer, with help, I got through it. I stood at the end triumphantly and tiredly.

“Well done, Spurrs. Let’s hope there’s not another.” Nadine told me, patting my back.

“PLEASE NO!” I exclaimed.

“You mean you didn’t like it?” Chloe asked sarcastically. I made a face at her and she chuckled. “Shall we?” She gestured to the stone steps before us.

“Fuckin’ please.” I said, starting up the steps to get away from the death trap I’d just completed.

Just like the others, the last jigsaw puzzle was under a stone gazebo, overlooking the mountains with a clear view of the relief. The puzzle was like the last; the pieces rotated around one another. But I solved the puzzle to show the image of an axe. The panel flipped to reveal a carved likeness of Shiva and the crank bars sprung from its sides like the others.

“Let’s give it a turn then.” Chloe said grabbing one end and Nadine grabbing the other. I stepped back to watch them turn it when suddenly Chloe’s bar snapped and she fell face first into the grass and moss. I covered my mouth and giggled loudly.

“I told you it was dangerous.” Nadine smiled, helping her up. “Are you hurt?” She asked, giving her a once over. Chloe blinked at her a moment as she placed a hand on her cheek, checking for bumps or bruises. She smiled back and pushed her bangs off of her face.

“Just my dignity.” She cracked. It was like watching a shitty Rom-Com. My heart swelled watching the two of them. Chloe was still clueless but I was sure she’d get the hint eventually. I had faith. They both shared Nadine’s bar and pushed together to turn the crank. We already knew what to expect by then. The rumble, the noises, the gutter. And just like that, the waterfall in the relief was completed. The three of us stood at the edge to admire what we’d gone all over creation to finish. In the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe peek at Nadine from her binoculars with a smirk.

“Y’know… you’re pretty good at treasure hunting.” She told her. Nadine smiled to herself and glanced at the mountain.

“I’m a quick study.” She answered proudly, crossing her arms. Chloe pulled out this small golden piece she’d been constantly playing with since the job started. She tossed it in her hand in thought.

“One question though…” she began. Nadine turned her head and batted her long lashes. “I reckon you could pretty much do anything you want. Why are you so keen to get Shoreline back?” She asked. The question seemed to catch Nadine off guard. She tilted her head like she’d just asked the dumbest question.

“Seriously?” She asked. Chloe just nodded, awaiting an answer. I was rather curious myself. As efficient as she was, as talented as she was, why did she want some bullshit mercenary corp back? She began listing reasons off with her fingers. “My partner turns my own men against me. My lieutenant makes off with the bounty. Sunny got away.” I frowned as she pointed at me. Libertalia was a sticky situation for everybody. But she continued. “Nathan and Samuel Drake get off scot free, and you wanna know what I want Shoreline back?” I winced at the mention of the boys. There would always be that sore spot between us when it came to them. Chloe narrowed her eyes at her, chewing on her lip before answering solidly.

“Yeah.” She said. Nadine looked at her a moment, readying her mouth for the answer. Whatever it was, it seemed like it was still hard for her to accept.

“It was on my watch.” She replied somberly. She wrinkled her brows and hugged herself as she looked out at the foggy mountaintops. “I lost it on my watch.” In a way, I understood. She had a responsibility and it got out of hand. I didn’t exactly make her job easy for her either. I sort of felt bad for that.

“I’m sorry?” I mumbled. I wasn’t really sure what I was apologizing for but I felt like it needed to be said.

“‘I’m sorry’?” Nadine repeated, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Yeah. For what it’s worth, I think you’re a kick ass chick. And I’m sorry things didn’t pan out well for you.”

“You were one of the reasons it didn’t.” She said.

“Yeah… but to be fair, you shot me.”

“And then your bloody boyfriend almost shot me!” She yelled.

“He is NOT my boyfriend!” I snapped. This was what I got for trying to be nice.

“Quit lying to yourself, Spurrs! This whole trip, you’ve done nothing but mope about something you claim doesn’t bother you!” She snapped, turning around to point an aggressive finger at me. Chloe groaned audibly and continued to play with her gold piece as Nadine threw a bitch fit because things hit too close to home. “My advice: stop mucking around with some guy who screws other people to hurt you. Just because you and I are square, doesn’t mean I don’t still have it in for him. He better be lucky he’s not here today because the second I get the chance, he’s dead. And I mean that.” She seethed. I snarled at her protectively. She’d have to go through me before I let that happen. Before I could even respond, she turned her attention back to Chloe, clearly annoyed.

“What is that thing you keep playing with?!” She snapped. Chloe smirked, amused by her annoyance.

“It’s my ‘stress toy’.” She answered. “It showed up in the mail a few weeks after we got to Australia…”

“Nice. Can we go now? As far as we know we’re ahead of this guy…” I said, my eyes never leaving Nadine’s. It seemed as if whatever animosity that was between us would never be resolved. As long as I was in alliance with the Drake brothers, she’d never truly reconcile anything with me. For the moment, that was fine. I wasn’t looking for new friends and I didn’t need them. But like the professional I tried my hardest to be, I pushed it aside to get the job done. As we headed back to the car, I listened to Chloe give her a short and sweet pep talk on how it was okay to fail. Similar to a talk I’d given Sam in Libertalia. At this point, I just wanted to get the job over with. I was tired, hungry, damp from water and sweat, it was hot, and I was worried. Suddenly, Chloe’s phone began to beep. The fact that she even remotely got a signal here was impressive. The expression on her face, not so much. She looked at me before fixing her face as Nadine turned around. What had happened? Was it Sam? I could exactly ask as we were keeping him away from Nadine. So I left it alone until later. With that, we got back to the 4x4 and set out for the relief in the mountain.

Read more on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26555698/chapters/64735600

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olympusintelligence · 4 years

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Part 3 Chapter 10

30/11/2018 11:59 (San Francisco Time) Palo Alto Hills, Palo Alto

What a fatal mistake!

Kyle regretted he recklessly entered Andrew’s house five minutes ago. The garden was tranquil, but only hostility existed inside the house.

He thought he had prepared for everything, but currently he knew he would not get anything. In fact, he had no idea if he would survive this ‘lunch’.

There was no way he could have foreseen a gunfight in an African wilderness ensue right after he entered the house. He tried to escape, but the door had been automatically locked. He wanted to call for help, but his cell phone did not receive any signal. Immersed in such an authentic virtual environment, he could not find any windows or exits. He had just managed to avoid a bullet, and taken refuge behind a ‘tree’ with a gun in his hand.

“Seems like you haven’t got used to the VR battlefield,” Andrew, the mastermind behind the plot smirked coyly. Wearing all black, he was hiding behind another tree. “I’m a fair opponent. At least the bullets and the gun I gave you are real.” The specially designed VR hardware that projected this battlefield was still not yet on sale. Users did not have to rely on VR goggles and/or hard disk backpacks to experience its simulated environment.

‘You won’t get any help. Very few people stay in this area at noon. The house is noise-proof, so no one outside can hear what’s going on here.’

Kyle wanted to shoot Andrew, but his opponent was faster. He fired back another round of shots and one of them almost hit his right hand.

You tried to kill me…..I sensed your enmity against me at that time!

‘Who the heck are you? Why are you doing this?’ questioned Kyle angrily. He never thought this harmless-looking young tycoon would have wanted to kill him with his own hand. Andrew’s public profile was too simple for a tech tycoon - After earning a bachelor's degree in computer sciences from Caltech in 2012, he became an intelligence analyst in the NSA, but he resigned in less than a year. A reporter once asked what he did during the two-year gap after his resignation, he just explained that he travelled around the world and wrote the source code for VidChat. He only returned to the US and founded Vid in 2015. And at this age he still did not have any spouse or lover. Currently Kyle knew for sure that the two-year gap was not a gap at all.

Just like Helen, he was Olympus’ operative.

‘Let me show you my gun.” An image of a remodeled silver blue CZ SP-01 Phantom appeared in the middle. Its slider had the pattern of a silver trident on it.

‘You’re…..’ A glimpse of this gun reminded Kyle of a Greek God. He unconsciously trembled with fear.

‘I’m Poseidon.’ Andrew confirmed his guess - his codename was Poseidon. Coldness seethed within his deep azure eyes.

In Greek mythology, after overthrowing their father Cronus’ tyrannic rule,Poseidon and his brothers Zeus and Hades divided the world by drawing lots. It made him the god of the Sea and other waters. He is as capricious as the ocean- Though he is often calm, when he is in rage he triggers storms, chaotic waves and tsunamis that flood the land, and even shakes the earth with earthquakes. He is also vindictive- According to Homer’s Odyssey, the hero Odysseus escaped from the cyclops Polyphemus’ capture by blinding him with a wooden stick, but the cyclops was Poseidon’s son. When he prayed for Poseidon to avenge for him, the god was angered and cursed the hero to wander around the sea for more than ten years. In the end, it took Odysseus eighteen years just to return to his home Ithaca, though he had the patronage of the other deities.

‘You’ve anticipated my visit to Palo Alto, so you’ve prepared all these!’

‘Yea, I leaked the intelligence on the virus to you.’

Kyle finally realized this man was a terrible schemer- a month ago he deliberately leaked the virus source via INTERPOL to lure him to his trap. Obviously he had plotted to murder him for a long time, but he still feigned hospitality before the hackathon. He only showed his true colors at this moment. Throughout their meeting he spotted nothing strange about him.

He was a strong, patient, calculating rival. No wonder he was chosen as a core member of Olympus and his codename was named after the great god of ocean.

Kyle attempted to watch his surroundings so he moved out of his cover a bit. Right at this moment his shoulder suffered a hit. He smelled some blood from his wound.

‘At first I really overestimated you as Helen still insisted to marry you in the face of our boss’ wrath, but now I know you’re just a layman,’ teased Poseidon, who was reloading bullets into his gun. It sounded like a note of the Death’s music piece. ‘I have wanted to fight you for a long time. As our boss finally authorized me to take you out, I’ll be the one to send you to meet Jesus. You should feel lucky that I took the job, or you’ll have died without knowing why.’

Based on his words, Kyle deduced Helen must be another core member of Olympus. ‘What’s the meaning of……’Before Kyle finished his question, Poseidon fired another gunshot.

‘She should never choose you as her husband! I don’t understand why she loves you, not me!’Poseidon burst out, and his graceful appearance became twisted out of envy.

Damn! A rival in love! He’ll not let me stay alive! How can I escape?

Kyle tried to keep his cool in the face of death.

The afterglow of sunset dominated the sky of the virtual battlefield as it turned to dusk. He noticed a mini flashlight up there.

This is it! He stopped hiding and swiftly moved forward to shoot at the flashlight.

Sparks erupted when the bullet crushed one of the VR projectors and the connected hard disk into pieces. The African wilderness was gone. Only darkness was left. Projector screens had been installed on most walls, and black window blinds blocked most light from the outside.Still with shimmers of light from the crevices between the windows and the blinds, Kyle could tell he was in an empty house. He also spotted a backdoor beside the open kitchen.

As Poseidon had lost the field advantage, Kyle instinctively knew he would try to end his life quickly. They kept firing many rounds of bullets at each other while running to the other side.It was a miracle that they did not suffer any hit but almost a hundred bullet holes appeared on the adjacent walls and a scorching smell permeated in the air after the intense gunfight.

Both rivals ran out of bullets, so they tossed their guns aside. But Poseidon had already sprinted near Kyle and tried to give him a hammerfist. Luckily Kyle evaded it in time. He then shoved Poseidon on the ground heftily.

He wanted to do a follow-up punch, but Poseidon suddenly clutched his right hand and dragged him down. He then smoothly placed his right forearm across the front of his neck, and his left hand grabbed the wrist and pulled back the forearm, hence driving the forearm into the front of the neck. In the meantime, his both legs firmly locked his waist and thighs in a triangular position - This is the arm bar choke, a classic Brazilian jiu-jitsu and MMA technique. Poseidon wanted to choke Kyle to his death.

I’m not gonna die here!

Kyle almost lost his breath, but the near death experience awakened his survival.While he attempted to grab Poseidon’s forearm to loosen the choke, he took out a dagger from his jeans’ lower right pocket. While Poseidon was intent on suffocating him, he pierced it into his left forearm.

‘Ahhh!’ Poseidon screamed out loud and let go of him unwillingly.

Kyle seized this golden chance. He swiftly pierced his right thigh and left arm with the other two daggers. He planned to use them in case of danger before visiting Poseidon’s home, but he never thought he had to defend himself with them that soon.

Due to sudden pain, Poseidon could not move and Kyle proceeded to press him down on the ground. As he was heavier and more muscular, Poseidon could not strike back at all.

Blood streams flowed out from their wounds and tainted their clothes. They really smelled bloody.

‘You’d better kill me now!’Poseidon had never experienced such a humiliating defeat. He lost the will to fight back, as he knew too well the fate of an agent captured by an enemy - torture and death.

‘I wanna kill you too, badass!’ Kyle punched his rival’s boyish face hard. His eyes burned with rage. He was very angry at the rival’s well-planned murder plot. ‘But I’m different from murderers like you! I never kill anyone!’ He slapped his face again and shouted, ‘I want you to tell me everything you know. If you don’t say anything, I’ll continue to punch you till you talk!’

Crack!

A bullet had just one through the window bear Kyle. He tried to dodge it when he heard the window crack, but his right arm still received the blow. He then lost his balance and fell on the ground. Poseidon was saved.

‘I can’t believe you’ve got a sniper!’ complained Kyle . Poseidon just looked at him with disdain and sneered. ‘Not my man, but you better run. Hades should be here now. Before becoming one of us, he was the best sniper in SWAT.’

Hades- the king of the underworld?

‘Bastard!’ Kyle was truly frightened. He hastily moved to escape from the backdoor near the open kitchen. He discovered there was a vast swimming pool outside. There was no place for a sniper to conceal himself, but Kyle decided not to stay there as he did not want to face an attack on two fronts. Therefore he rushed to the parking lot facing the forest and climbed the fence to leave the house, despite the risk of getting another hit by the sniper.

He raced downhill on the road, but he heard another noise on his left - a bullet had just hit his left shoulder. Its impact thrust him onto the ground. More blood spilled out.

I don’t want to die here!

He dared not to walk on the open road. With a strong will to survive, he crawled his way into the forest. Although he would have to climb down the slope, the densely grown trees may shelter him from the sniper’s eyesight. Shortly later he barely got up and trudged into the forest.

Still it did not work out. The sniper had already arrived with a solid black Desert Eagle Mark 19 in his right hand. He had put his sniper rifle back into his backpack. With a lean and athletic figure, the tall Caucasian man had a flat top-cut black hair. He appeared to be in his early thirties. Like any assassin, he preferred black outfit. When his grey eagle eyes were fixated on his prey, he just pulled the trigger. The gunshot was aiming at Kyle’s heart…..

Kyle knew he was doomed. He could not escape from this close-distance gunfire. Narcissus, the symbol of Hades, was marked on the slider of the assassin’s handgun.

All of a sudden, another gunfire came. It precisely hit Hades’ bullet and altered its ballistic course, so two bullets just ended up hitting the trunks of two large trees.

Kyle was stunned by such marvelous marksmanship. He turned around to trace its origin - A woman with very beautiful curly brown hair just quietly came to the forest. She was in a black leather jacket, a white tee and light blue skinny jeans. Her rose gold Glock 17 was aimed at Hades.

Her decisive gunshot had saved Kyle from the fate of death.

If this lady joined an international beauty pageant contest, she may get the title ‘ the most beautiful woman in the world’ - A perfect model figure with a refined sweet appearance and a healthy light-tanned skin tone. Her watery black eyes were as sparkling as the starlight. Even without any attractive make-up or sexy outfit, her beauty was way beyond comparison. Though Kyle remained faithful to Helen, he was mesmerized by this beauty who just showed up out of nowhere.

‘Athena’s boy, if you wanna live, then don’t just stand there and stare at me. Come here now,’ she snapped. She never wanted to be any man’s eye candy. Her warning reminded him that he was still in danger. His arms were in great pain.

Hades frowned at her. He apparently knew her well. ‘Aphrodite, you can’t even defend yourself. Now you still wanna save this kid?’

Aphrodite- the goddess of love and beauty in the world of Greek myths. Kyle had already stood by the pretty lady. He noticed some patterns of roses were printed on her handgun, which confirmed she was another Olympus’ core member.

‘I’ve been entrusted with this kid’s life. Hades, I bet you only wanna protect Poseidon so you’ve come alone. Your men mostly operate in Europe, and you never want Poseidon to have any direct contact with them, so that means no one else has returned to the States with you,’ Aphrodite narrated Hades’ plan with a calm smile. ‘I was trained to neutralize your strengths. If you still wanna fight with me, both of us will be losers. If I were you, I’d better leave and take care of Poseidon. That kid has been at the back. He has not had any concrete field experience. ’

That kid with no field experience has almost killed me……Kyle sighed.

‘Fine, I don’t want us to kill ourselves over the unknown,’ Hades compromised. Both operatives placed their guns back to their holsters at the same time. ‘But our boss has already issued the assassination order against him. Poseidon has snatched the job from me, and actually stalled it for some time. When the news of his failure is out, he’ll send in someone else to finish the job. You’ve been protecting your partner, and you’re on a run, so you’re not capable of protecting someone else.’

‘Why does your boss want me dead?’ Kyle tried hard to withstand the pain of his bullet wounds. They had stopped bleeding. ‘How’s Helen?’

‘Because you met someone you weren’t supposed to meet and you’re investigating things you should never have known in the first place,’ retorted Hades sternly, but he still revealed what he knew about Helen. He seemed to have some pity for him ‘She has been identified as a rogue agent. She’s now a suspect of the explosion case in Hong Kong. We’ll go after her soon.’

12:45 (San Francisco Time) Poseidon’s house

Poseidon was still unable to move. The left side of his face became swollen after taking in Kyle’s slaps and punches. Traces of blood seeped from the corner of his lips.

Hades may return in 30 minutes. He may not kill Kyle. Someone might take care of it for our boss.

In Olympus, he was one of the best performers in intelligence analysis. Though he felt ashamed about his defeat at the hands of a layman, he still remained cool-headed and analyzed the situation.

Looks like now is the only time to call her…...

With his only voice, he commanded the electronic communications system installed within the wall to dial a French phone number. It was capable of voice recognition

‘Winter’s here.’ A lady answered the call. She sounded tired.

‘But the dolphin still swims in winter.’ Dolphin used to be Poseidon’s codename, while Winter used to be Helen’s in the past. All core members changed their codenames after their organization was renamed as Olympus. Through their secret codes they confirmed each other’s identity. ‘In the safe house?’

‘Yea. No one seemed to have cleaned it for a long time. Too dusty.’ Helen looked sickly pale and skinny. She was hiding in a barely furnished cottage house in Paris suburbs. Her hair had been dyed blonde and made curly. She was in a linen-colored long sleeved tee and a pair of navy blue loose pants. While talking with Poseidon, she was meticulously pasting a fake eyebrow on a latex face mask with a pair of tweezers. She had only managed to find some fake passports, few notebook computers and other gadgets from a safe box inside for later use. Their phone call had been set to be encrypted and untraceable earlier. ‘Are you ok? Sounds like you’re not well.’

Poseidon grew silent. He was trying hard to suppress his pain, but it seemed Helen sensed it. Hence, he decided to reveal part of the truth. ‘I just fought with your fiance. He knows you’re alive, and he’s now searching for you. Actually he traced the origin of the virus I made for you to my house.’

‘Then what did you do to him?’ Gloom was all over Helen’s complexion. She recalled the moment she decided to abandon her lover and fake her death. ‘If he dies, we’re not bros. I’ll come back to to kill you!’ she threatened him.

‘Holy…..That’s your first reaction? I was hurt ! I’m not the one who issued that fucking order. I only took this opportunity to test him. By the way, I actually kept him alive for more than a month!’ Poseidon sobbed pretentiously, acting as if he unwillingly followed his boss’ order.

‘I ‘ve known you for too long, Andrew. I know the true meaning of your little test. You deserve it,’ she snapped back at her long-time colleague. She knew what he was up to. Looks like Kyle really crossed our badass boss’ line. She just dropped her tweezers and rubbed her temples.

Ha! I really didn’t just want to test him. He took my bait and came here to investigate us! And that bastard has stolen you away from me. Of course I want him dead!

Poseidon had been contemplating to murder his rival for some time. He had loved her for many years.

‘He’s a bit injured but still alive. ’Seems like I’ve lost to both of you. I started to get why you chose him,’ He smiled bitterly. Just like Helen, he had received a certain degree of training in deception, so he swiftly pretended to be accommodating, but if another right moment came, he would strike again. ‘You still have a choice, Helen. You should have returned to that bastard’s arms much earlier!’

‘Can I? 301 people died on that day, including the Firm’s men and my man! If I hadn’t gone there just for a stupid live drop, they wouldn’t have been dead!’ Helen had been guilt-ridden since that explosion. ‘Now we still have no clue about who’s behind this. He’ll only be screwed if I get back to him.’

Am I worthy of his love? I’m only a fraudster.

Both in the past and at present, she had committed many unforgivable crimes. This explosion did not just take away lives. It was also a grave omen. The secrets that she had tried hard to conceal would only be laid bare in front of her loved one.

‘You can’t take care of him. They confirmed you’re still alive. The Firm issued an arrest warrant about an hour ago- Their case officers and our operatives can capture you alive, and we’re forbidden from covering you or giving you any assistance. We’ve also received a shoot-to-kill authorization.’ Poseidon warned her as he noticed that time was running out.

‘Thanks a lot. You guys have already done a lot. Our jerky boss would have found out I’m alive sooner or later. It’s a miracle for you guys to have bided a long time for me.’

‘Ha, he must have known you survived much earlier, so he just organized your funeral in LA sloppily and only sent me to attend the one in Hong Kong. He’s our teacher/criminal mastermind. Our tricks look like a child’s play to him.’ Poseidon started to have a headache when he thought of their boss. Soon he would have to explain to him the operation he ran behind his back. ‘In fact what have you found exactly besides taking out the three small fish?’ ‘ Small fish’ is their jargon for the lower-ranking members or informants of a terrorist organization or a hostile intelligence agency.

‘Nothing substantial. That Indonesian entrepreneur only gave me the name of a small company registered in Luxembourg. It seems like a shell company.’ Actually Helen was mining numerous bank accounts on her notebook computer. She had hacked into many French and Luxembourg banks’ computer systems. A list of account holders was being gathered, but she deliberately withheld this intelligence from him.

‘Even our badass boss almost failed to withstand the pressure from the Firm. The situation can change at any moment. Many lives can be at risk if we’re not careful.’ Poseidon reminded her. ‘From now on you’ve got to keep it low. I hope you will dig up useful leads, Athena, but we can’t be in touch anymore. I just hope after everything settles we’ll still meet as partners and good friends.’ He then hung up the phone. It was rare for him to address her as Athena, as she was dear to him, but he felt really troubled at the circumstances: they may be enemies in the future, as their boss might send him to go after her .

He suddenly remembered Athena and Poseidon were always rivals in Greek myths- They once battled for dominion over Athens by trying to win the Athenian’s heart with their gifts.Poseidon thrust his trident into the Acropolis and produced a stream of sea water, while Athena offered the Athenians an olive tree. It was much more useful than Poseidon’s -Olives could be food as well as a source of oil for lamps, cooking and wood, so the Athenians supported her and made her the city’s patron. Poseidon was bitter about it, so he sent a monstrous flood to the Attic Plain in retaliation.

I hope we’ll never be like them…...I really love you.

A light sigh pulled him back into reality. Hades had already stood by him for some time.

He felt the urge to laugh at the sight of his co-worker’s wretched state, but as Poseidon glared at him, he maintained his poker face. ‘The medical team and the cleaning squad will arrive in 10 minutes. You still have to wait.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Forget Athena. We may have to deal with her in the next battle. You can’t let your feelings for her control you.’ Hades deleted the dialing record without a single thought once he peeped at the screen of the electronic communications system.

@writing-and-snark @requiemesque @ill-write-when-im-dead @adie-dee @thingswaitingtobewritten

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anastasiaskarsgard · 5 years

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Destiny of the Damned

Part 1- Roman Godfrey

Chapter 1- nosebleed

I never thought I'd miss traffic and noise. In California, something is always happening, and traffic is just a fact of life. When I had to move out to help my uncle, who lives outside of Hemlock Grove Pennsylvania to say it was a culture shock was an understatement. Everything closed early and I think they’d have to schedule a traffic jam or someone would need to get murdered on the main roads. After about a month, you figure out who everyone is. Small town life is bizarre. I went to eat at a local diner, and a police officer was eating there as well, looking out the window and makes a call. I’m in the next booth, so I can’t help but overhear him call someone that had just run the stop sign, and told them to come pick up their tocket at the station later. I always took the energy and anonymity giant metropolitan areas like Los Angeles or San Francisco for granted. It never even occured to me there were places where there were no malls, airports, freeways or parking fees. I’ve been here for a little over 2 months, and I am literally the only Mercedes Benz S-Class I’ve seen. In order to reach civilization and acceptable fashion retail, you had to go on a full on road trip. My uncle was the closest thing I had to a parent, so I was willing to tough it out for him. He had fallen down his concrete basement stairs, and fractured his neck a hands. He is very independant and stubborn and needed assistance until he healed from the multiple surgeries he’s had to endure, to get his hands working correctly again. His home is a famous work of art, more than a place to actually occupy, so strangers coming to stay there, and touch his stuff, damn near got him catching a charge. I just finished University and was an executive for my Uncles’ multi billion dollar corporation but realistically, we could take the rest of our lives off, and be fine. But we are both workaholic innovators that share the same miraculous quirk. We have autobiographical memories which means we don't forget anything. Want to know what the date, temperature, things I did, who I was with the first time I heard a particular song? I can tell you. It's a blessing and a curse. Everything is a trigger for memories for me and my Uncle. So although his desire for isolation and little contact is extreme, I get it. Having a brain that doesn't stop can be exhausting and stressful.

Books help, so when I turned the corner, and spotted a Barnes and Noble, I actually squealed in excitement. I pulled up and looked a little out of place, but i didnt care. My car was understated, low profile, over the top. With its clear panoramic sunroof, technology, and ambiance lighting, id always kid with my uncle that i needed it for my mental health. Really, I was terribly spoiled, yet I appreciated it and never tried to rub it anyone's face, but I understood a young woman exiting a very expensive car, in a small town, that lived in the strange house with her reclusive billionaire Uncle, wasn't going to have anyone baking me pies. I was a realist.

I was pleasantly surprised by the sheer size of this store. inside there was a shockingly large lego display and it reminded me of how much i used to love assembling complicated structures, while most girls played wth dolls. While most little girls wanted to play with dollies and imagine scenarios about their wedding day, I was trying to improve my laptops performance (catching a few on fire in my early years). The dynamics and emotionality of people never held any value really. It was what truly always puzzled me. Losing oneself in another person, or the entire concept of love, seemed so unlikely. Far too many factors involved, and why anyone compromises when they can just do as they please by themselves only makes sense in situations like with my Uncle. It was still inconvenient, so getting close to people has never been appealing, but the legos we're.

I walked over and spotted a gigantic Death Star set and clapped in delight. I thought I heard a low chuckle behind me, so I spun around to find the best looking man I'd ever seen, dressed in a very nice suit. He didnt waver or look away when i looked at him, and almost looked as though he were daring me to look away. Most people would find him intimidating, but nothing really made me nervous so he didnt phase me.

"What's funny?" I asked looking him dead in the eye.

"You." He smirked.

"Glad to oblige you" i said sarcastically as I did a half hearted bow, then standing straight with a smirk. Who did he think he was? Green eyed, puffy lipped punk. I didn't break eye contact which usually caused people to look away by now, but To my surprise he laughed and looked me up and down. Assessed me like i was livestock; sizing me up and trying to decide if he could break me.

"I'm Roman."

"I'm American." I replied.

"No my name is Roman." He laughed heartily. An amused twinkle in his eye.

I couldn't help but notice he really had the best smile, and I really have a thing for noses, and his was divine. if you think about it, its the most important facial feature. A nose can make or break a face, and his cute little slightly upturned nose, with its perfect symmetry was for sure making his face. combine that with his gorgeous green eyes, long lashes, defined bone structure, alabaster skin and standing at least 6′3″ he must be one of the biggest pains in the asses, this side of the Mississippi! Most women would see him and be all in but having a gorgeous man that exudes sexuality and is very sure of himself is far more trouble then anyone could ever be worth.

Why pretty boy wanted to trade names, probably had nothing to do with me, and much more to do with boredom, or what he could get out of me. I usually don't pay much attention to anyone of the opposite sex, especially obvious pains in the ass like the man before me, but something about him, was preventing me from just turning around and blowing him off.

"Generally when I tell someone my name, they tell me their own." He said staring into my eyes with such an intensity that I reacted almost involuntarily.

I have a defect. If someone tries to tell me what to do or control me, I am not fucking having it. Authority has always been an issue, and this felt a lot like him trying to dominate me, and I felt almost sick. Like when you stand up too fast and get a bit woozy. I took that as a good time to turn my back on him and ignore him.

He walked in front of me, blocking my view of the legos and ducked down a bit to make eye contact. I couldnt hide the complete shock on my face at his behavior. He's either crazy or incredibly confident. I raised my eyebrows as if to say "can i help you" and I know my face was absolutely unfriendly, yet he didn't appear to notice.

His face hardened "tell me. Your. Name." He said slowly and deliberately.

Now it was my turn to laugh. I looked at him to see the smile or just kiddding , but it never came... WOW. He was serious!!! I leaned my face a couple inches from his face and I said "Nope" making sure to loudly pop the p.

The look on his face was absolutely priceless, and had my laughing enough that several people were starting. just as I was about to walk away victorious, his nose began to bleed. I instantly was embarrassed for him and I couldnt just leave him here to bleed on the legos so I jumped into action.

"Oh shit, your nose is bleeding." i said lookinbg around for any type of tissue, when i noticed we were right next to the restrooms.

"What? Seriously? Can you get it?" he implored looking all frightened, dare I say fragile.

Without any hesitation, I wiped the blood from his face. "Come with me, we need tissue, bathroom is right here. Look up and hold your nose." I grabbed his hand and recieved a shock. static electricity stayed with me a lot and often scared people but he didnt even flinch. He laced his fingers in mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world and i led him to the bathroom.

Once inside, I grabbed some tissues and directed him to stand over the sink. I wet some paper towels and wiped away the blood and then took the dry tissues and pushed his head back and crammed little tissue torpedos in his perfect little nose. The whole time I could feel his intense gaze on me, but what else was he going to look at really?

"Gotta admit, this is new." He quipped, admiring my handy work in the mirror and laughing in dismay.

"What? Bloody nose or attention from ladies?"

"Um.... you're kind of rude, but then when there is an issue, you don't hesitate to help. Then you're taking better care of my nose bleed than anyone. No one really takes charge with me.... and now I'm in a bathroom with a woman and we aren't fucking." He laughed again.

"Fucking. Classy. If I didn't know any better I'd swear you were the Godfrey asshole everyone keeps telling me about." Ever since I'd arrived at Hemlock grove, I'd heard Godfrey this and Godfrey that. Their name was on everything and I'd heard the son was like a 21 year old gorgeous nightmare, that was as kind, as he was humble. The few people id spoken to had told me to stay away from him. I found it odd, I didn't know his first name all of a sudden.

His face fell into a frown.

"I see that's the general consensus about that guy. Cheer up Charlie, your nose stopped bleeding most likely, let me just pull these out." i gently pulled the tissues from his nose and waited for blood but none came. "Boom mothafucka its on!" i laughed at my own ridiculousness before turning and washing my hands.

"You're weird” he stated matter of factly.

Roman stood there quietly thinking. I could almost feel the wheels turning in his head. His mood had completely changed at the mention of the Godfrey kid.Maybe his family had lost everything because of them too or the guy stole his girl, i felt a little guilty so i relented a tiny bit.

"Hey listen, Roman was it?" He nodded and bit his lip. oh he knows what hes doing. boy he was trouble "I'm sorry if the Godfrey's are a sore subject. I don't know anything about anybody here. I'm just helping out my crazy uncle that fell down his basement stairs and broke his hands and neck. I'm from the west coast and this dreary fucking place isn't exactly my cup of tea. I don't know why I'm rude before I'm polite but it's involuntary. My name is Letha, it's like Lisa with a lisp and now I've officially over shared." I could feel my face turning red. Why was He making me such an awkward mess? My God this WAS new.

suddenly he grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me in stopping just an inch away from my face. "Who put you up to this?" He asked with such venom in his voice it made me flinch. "WHO!?!?!" He screamed in my face.

I tried to push him away but he wouldn't budge. My mind raced and I began to panic. No one has ever screamed in my face like this and I didn't like it and yet, the way his eyes searched mine and the tenseness in his body, and just sheer panic made me do something I hardly ever did. Maybe it was brought on by panic or survival instinct, but it was not my normal. Especially to a crazy stranger in the bathroom, but I had the overwhelming NEED to hug him. I fought past his hands trying to hold my shoulders in kind of a silly slap fight and grabbed him around the waist and buried my head in his shoulder. He smelled so good.This was outright crazy behavior for me, and i was confusing myself but if i tried to not think, it almost felt nice, for a few moments my mind was blank. A minute passed with me holding him as he calmed his breathing with his arms raised. Nothing was triggering me and I felt odd.

"Nobody sent me, you nut job! Hug me back, you need a hug. ”i squeezed even harder, nuzzling my face into his collar, his chin gently resting on my head.

His arms hesitantly closed around my back and then he crushed me into a deep embrace. He really did need a hug. "You ok now crazy?" I asked trying to pull back to look at his face but he held me fast. He started to shudder a bit and then I felt moisture hit my forehead. Ok it's gone too far, this is why I don't hug.

Was this crazy ass dude crying? Oh no, he was really crazy. Shit shit shit. Good job Letha, you're gonna get murdered in a bookstore bathroom, in shit hole Pennsylvania, on a Friday afternoon. Why did you hug this fucking guy? I was starting to breathe funny now!

Roman loosened his grip and looked deep in my eyes searching for something. What? Im unsure, but he must of found it, because he laughed and he seemed almost sweet, except tears were running down his face and a moment earlier he screamed in my face.

"Well Ms Letha, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'd love nothing more than to take you out this evening wherever you want to go. Before you refuse, I assure you I'm not crazy, it's just I had a cousin named Letha, which I'm sure you're aware is an unusual name, and I loved her very much and she passed and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It caught me off guard."

I had heard about that Letha. Everyone that found out my name, told me about Letha Godfrey, the Godfrey girl that was as kind as she was beautiful, but tragically got knocked up and lost her mind talking about angels being the father, and dating some weirdo outcast. when she went to give birth in the family skyscraper medical facility, she mysteriously died and so did her baby.

"You're the Godfrey kid." I practically whispered staring at him with wide eyes as I recalled what I'd said about him, TO him.

"Hardly a kid anymore I think." He smiled. He was so handsome, it was freaking me out. "What's your phone number? I have to run to the white tower, and then I'm all yours."

I knew better. He was too good looking and too rich and too everything but something told me he needed me. I know it sounds crazy but I believed in my heart and soul, this perfect beautiful fucking legend of a man needed me. I knew it wasn't logical, but I told him my number and turned to walk out of the bathroom, but he grabbed my hand.

"Please answer." He pleaded pressing a kiss to my hand. He wasn't trying to make me do anything now. He was giving the power over to me and i was honestly taken aback a bit by the almost desperate look in his eyes. I knew in my heart, he genuinely needed me, but for what?

I can't explain the feeling I felt in that bathroom with this man, but when I say I felt a deeper connection to him than I'd ever felt in my 22 years on this earth, I mean it. It was thrilling, and scary, and strange. I smiled at him and nodded my head. As I made my way to my car, I tried to convince myself not to answer, but I knew that I would.

He didn't follow me out of the bathroom and I just made a bee line for my car. I had to go. I couldn't help smiling from ear to ear. The cashier glared at me with open animosity, before turning her attention to the restroom door, looking dreamily for Roman to appear. Boy oh boy did I know better than to get involved with this guy, but deep in my gut i knew. He needed me.

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #bill istvan günther skarsgård #roman godfrey #hemlock grove #bill fanfiction #edited rewrite #my writing

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mulanxiaojie · 5 years

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“I can’t read Mandarin.”

This is how non-Chinese sometimes put it when they’re trying to be politically correct. I understand the intention, even though it comes out strangely, because you only read and write Chinese, not Mandarin.

Or: “What do you mean when you say you speak ‘Chinese’?” someone might tell me authoritatively. “There are many languages in China.”

This is all true. I’ve learned, over time, that who and what is “Chinese” is a complex and contested topic in a shifting landscape. It depends on who’s saying what to whom.

For example, a Chinese mainlander speaking English to a non-Chinese person will ask “Do you speak Chinese?” and be referring to Mandarin. A Hong Konger or Taiwanese may use the word “Chinese” to refer to the language, but would also be likely to say “Mandarin”. Similarly, if a Hong Kong local says “Chinese”, they may be referring to Cantonese.

Speaking Mandarin, a mainland Chinese person might use the words “中文” (zhong wen), “汉语” (han yu) or “普通话” (pu tong hua) to refer to Chinese. These words loosely translate to “Chinese language”, “Han language” or “Standard speech”.

But a Hong Kong or Taiwanese local speaking to a non-Chinese person in Chinese will say “你會講國語嗎?”, using the word “國語” (guo yu) which literally translates to “Can you speak the National language?”

Or the Hong Kong local might ask in Cantonese if you speak Chinese, if you’re of Asian descent like Jo is, with “你識唔識講中文啊?” (lei sik-m-sik jong zung man ah), again using the characters “中文” (here pronounced zung man) to refer to Chinese. But here they’ll almost definitely be referring to Cantonese, even though it’s using the same characters.

In Hong Kong or Taiwan, “National language” (國語, guo yu in Mandarin, gwok yu in Cantonese) is the word used to differentiate Mandarin from local dominant languages, including Cantonese in Hong Kong and Taiwanese languages (the local flavours of Hokkien and Hakka) in Taiwan.

In short, the same collective of words can refer to multiple languages, and understanding what is intended is an exercise in contextual awareness.

Being “Chinese” is just as complicated as speaking “Chinese”.

Firstly, if you’re not Chinese (or generally Asian), it’s hard to get this right. It took me probably a decade of bouncing around Asian countries before I got a sense of it. In Western societies, for those of us who are not of Asian background, we’re discouraged from asking people where they’re “really” from (and you’d never phrase it like that). The implication when one asks that question is that one is looking for differences against which to juxtapose oneself, rather than commonalities one might share. So we say “ABC” (American-Born Chinese), “BBC” (British), “CBC” (Canadian) and “ABC” (Australian, this time), or various other variants for other backgrounds, and are sensitive to the fact that people might look Chinese but have been born in Lubbock, Texas and grown up in Orange County, California.

But after a while in Asia one learns that really, there are many kinds of Chinese (let alone people from elsewhere in Eastern Asia), and knowing a bit about where someone’s from helps you understand where they’re coming from.

Let’s take a few examples.

If someone was born in China and grew up in the Mainland, they’re almost definitely Chinese ethnically, culturally and by nationality. Ethnically they’re either of the Han Chinese majority, or one of the minorities like Uighur, Korean, Russian, or maybe even the extreme minority of Persian in the case of one of my friends. Culturally, anyone who grows up in the Mainland has some inescapable aspects of Chinese culture. On a superficial level, this manifests in things like a feeling one should remove one’s shoes at the door (common to anyone in continental Asia and San Francisco), then proceeds through to a few culturally entrenched beliefs like the importance of hard work and giving gifts in the form of red packets or moon cakes, and goes all the way up to a generally abstract and usually non-religious but highly philosophical perception of the world. People who grew up in this environment are highly aware of the dominance of the Chinese government (whatever they think of it), are cognizant of the fact that their parents or grandparents experienced the Cultural Revolution and the incredible tragedy that brought upon the country—whether or not they speak about it—and generally feel lucky to have what they have. In terms of nationality, they’ve got an id card or passport that says “People’s Republic of China” on it.

If born in the west (the US for example), someone of Chinese descent is likely to identify as Western (e.g. American, or French or whatever) in most circumstances. But to some, they’re still Chinese, despite their passport, despite views on the world and despite even their own will. To other Asian friends who grew up in the west, they’ll share a lot, but share a lot more with those of Chinese background—regardless of what kind of Chinese background that is. It’s hard being even vaguely Chinese and visiting any Chinese country. People would speak to you in Chinese languages and expect you to understand. Since not all people born and raised in western countries speak Chinese languages fluently, this situation can raise judgment, a few insecurities, and sometimes guilt. It’s a very different experience to visiting a country in Greater China as another kind of Asian (like Jo, who is of Korean background) or a total foreigner (like me). The expectations are different. (We’d feel the same pressure if we visited Korea or Iran.)

The people of Hong Kong are different again. They’ll share a lot of views common to most of China and even Asia. Views like the importance of deference to elders, modest dress (an evolving definition) and belief in at least one form of traditional Chinese medicine are common. Hong Kongers will even call themselves Chinese. But that doesn’t mean they’re part of the PRC, and (as I indicated above) they may strongly assert that they are not. Their passports will attest to this. The Hong Kong Special Administrative Region Passport is a passport issued only to the permanent residents of Hong Kong who also hold Chinese citizenship. Note that last bit. It gets quite complicated! But basically, you get one of these passports if you have one parent who also has Chinese nationality and you were born in Hong Kong. I don’t know if the parents had to have claimed their Chinese nationality at the time of birth, but I wouldn’t want to dive into that bureaucratic black hole.

In Taiwan, being of Chinese descent ethnically differentiates you from the Aboriginal people of Taiwan, but could still mean you have ancestry from anywhere over the island of Taiwan or elsewhere in China. Chinese people in Taiwan probably speak Mandarin, though not always as the dominant language, which might be Taiwanese, also known as Taiwanese Hokkien (locally referred to as 臺語, Tai yu in Mandarin pronunciation). I spoke to some people in Mandarin and then only half-understood the reply, because they responded to me in Taiwanese—a strategy that would work with most locals (and maybe other Mainland visitors who have more of a knack for other Chinese languages). At other times, I’d say something in Mandarin (like numbers, or the names of foods when buying things) and then be taught the local Taiwanese words for them. Using local words subsequent times always got a better response.

And beyond the boundaries of where the PRC asserts its authority, you can also be Chinese and be Malaysian, Indonesian, Thai, Singaporean or Filipino (or a national of a few other countries). In those countries, there have been immigrant Chinese populations for a number of generations, the descendants of whom still identify as Chinese. The implied language spoken varies dramatically. It’s pretty common for someone who’s Malaysian Chinese to speak five languages: English, Mandarin, Hokkien, Cantonese and Malay… not to mention Hakka, Teochew and a few others (but generally not more than a few Chinese variants at a time). People in Thailand who identify as Thai Chinese, on the other hand, may speak no Chinese languages at all. They might tell you they’re of Chinese descent, or they might not—regardless of how much it changes (basically nothing, except maybe an understanding nod to the fact that their great, great grandparents escaped poverty from the south of China), the way they identify is highly individual.

Overall, I would never suggest putting people in a box. Every individual has exceptions. The above is just a quick glimpse into the complexity of Chinese “identity”, itself a fluid construct. But understanding some cultural background helps us feel more at home with people without having to go over many basic questions. Even just knowing that someone is only one generation away from poverty can help many of us with similar backgrounds feel like we have something important in common. So take the above as a glimpse into a rich world that I’d invite everyone to explore for themselves.

Who are we?

These days, when people ask us where we’re from, we assume good intentions: That they’re trying to connect with us. I tell them I’m from Iran (I’m really not… but it’s why I’m brownish), and Jo says she’s from Korea. They may have follow-up questions, but usually this is enough to satisfy the asker. Worst case, we’re doing a pretty good job at representing those two countries, and let them have it for free.

What we’ve learned so far from travelling is not just who we are, but the importance of the nuance of where other people are from. We’re looking forward to diving deeper into what makes people tick in more parts of the world.

#asian pasian #chinese #identity #article #chinese language #diaspora

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

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EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT CONTACT

There was no protection against breakage except the fear of looking bad than by the hope of getting millions of dollars, and you get. Because few of us know any alternative, we have no idea what our average returns might be, and won't know for years. And it can last for months. The language offers abstractions only as a way to get a big program is to start with. The problem is the real one. Treat the first few months comforted ourselves by treating the whole thing onto the shoulders of a big company, it's good news. Actually I was being conservative. When Mark spoke at a YC dinner this winter he said he wasn't trying to start a startup.1 Whereas fundraising, when you're in a very strong position, you not only won't get that but won't get anything.2 But at least you know where these facial expressions come from.

Startup funding meant series A rounds.3 In phase 2, on top of whatever you sold in phase 1. What this means in practice is that they are compulsive negotiators who will suck up a lot of new software, because you're paying for the hardware, just as we can become wiser.4 What nerds like is other nerds.5 Often as not a startup at all.6 Maybe some aspects of professionalism are actually a net lose. Perhaps it's in the sweet spot midway between. TV.

So let that satisfy your competitiveness. Two years from now, you'll be able to use their control of the desktop to prevent, or constrain, this new generation of software?7 I wouldn't claim it's painless.8 So I recommend being good. His mom probably has it on the fridge.9 In the process we may decrease economic inequality. Convergence is probably coming, but where? The conventional wisdom in the Lisp world is that the first problem is the same reason they had to work at another job to make money.

You can't blame kids for thinking I am not like these people; I am not like these people; I am not like these people; I am not suited to this world.10 The key stage is when they're three guys operating out of an apartment, and a Web browser. Ignoring any trend that has been operating for thousands of years is dangerous. The best investors are also the most liberal. The language is built in layers.11 It took me years to grasp that. There are ideas that obvious lying around now.12 If one woodworker makes 5 chairs and another makes none, the second seems as strong as ever.13 The floors are constantly being swept clean of any loose objects that might later get stuck in something.

That's how the two are only loosely coupled.14 If you try writing Web-based applications. If you take a boring job to give your family a high standard of living, as so many people do, you don't have to force yourself to work, just as there was in the early days of microcomputers. With Web-based software will be less stressful.15 Prestige is especially dangerous to the ambitious. Tell yourself you can be in close contact with support. They say they're going to work on your projects, he can work wherever he wants on projects of his own. When you can ask the opinions of people you don't even know?

If everyone's filters have different probabilities, it will be, for users and developers both. The problem is that once you start raising money, but also connotations like formality and detachment. Hardware is free now, if your software is reasonably efficient.16 I'm an investor, the deal flow, as they were with desktop computers. You can usually call their bluff, and you willingly give him money in return for it.17 And yet all those people have to make a language that might go away, as so many programming languages do.18 Languages are for programmers, and libraries are what programmers need. The list of what you want in a startup hub. You can use whichever is best for each. Some such investors have value, but the curve is just as bad. In How to Become a Hacker, Eric Raymond describes Lisp as something like Latin or Greek—a charming college town with perfect weather and San Francisco only an hour away.

Notes

Com/spam. Again, hard work.

This is actually from the most demanding but also the fashion leaders.

Parker, William R. Digg is Slashdot with voting instead of a city's potential as a process rather than given by other people the freedom to they derive the same trick of enriching himself at the outset which founders will seem to be promising. If an investor pushes you hard to grasp this than we realize, because for times over a hundred and one or two, and since you can hire skilled people to claim retroactively I said yes.

Robert in particular. And it's particularly damaging when these investors flake, because at one point in the 1990s, and as we think. I've omitted one source: government grants. Record labels, for the next round.

If they want. The second biggest regret was caring so much on the scale that has a similar logic, one variant of the accumulator generator in other Lisp dialects: Here's an example of a running back doesn't translate to soccer. The Price of Inequality. There are people whose applications are perfect in every way, because they believe they do, so that you have to put it this way.

The problem with most of the kleptocracies that formerly dominated all the mistakes you made. More often you have to solve a lot of reasons American car companies, summer jobs are the usual way of calculating real income, they have to give up more than that total abstinence is the proper test of intelligence or wisdom. They assumed that their experience so far has trained them to get fossilized. The point where things start to rise again.

And say that's not the type who would make good angel investors.

I preferred to work like casual conversation. Stone, op. Default: 2 cups water per cup of rice. I don't know enough about big markets, why is New York, but that's what they really mean, in both Greece and China, many of the words we use have a browser and get pushed down by new arrivals.

This is a flaw here I should add that none who read this to users than where you wanted to than because they have because they had that we wouldn't have. After a bruising fight he escaped with a company, and Fred Wilson for reading drafts of this model was that professionalism had replaced money as a company grew at 1% a week for 19 years, it causes a fundamental economic shift away from large companies.

I became an employer, I mean type I startups. If Ron Conway, for example, probably did more drugs in his early twenties. If you have to go deeper into the work of selection.

Progressive tax rates will tend to get the people who get rich by creating wealth—wealth that, go talk to mediocre ones. Never attribute to malice what can be said to have invented.

27 with the founders lots of potential winners, from which they don't.

When he wanted to. Yes, I suspect the recent resurgence of evangelical Christians. Sofbot. The person who understands how to be tweaking stuff till it's yanked out of just doing things, you may as well.

Giant tax loopholes are definitely not a promising lead and should in some ways First Round Capital is closer to a later investor trying to meet people; I was genuinely worried that Airbnb, for example, if the growth is valuable, because a she is very polite and b the local builders built everything in it. Where Do College English 28 1966-67, pp. I remember are famous flops like the difference between us and the super-angels. I was not in the US since the mid 1980s.

A scientist isn't committed to rejecting it.

See Greenspun's Tenth Rule.

I realize this sounds like something cooked up, but the distribution of good startups that get funded this way is basically zero.

Most employee agreements say that intelligence doesn't matter in startups. I agree and in fact the decade preceding the war, tax rates, which has been decreasing globally. We didn't try to make money for the same work, but that they either have a bogus political agenda or are feebly executed.

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Marc Andreessen, Robert Morris, and Jessica Livingston for the lulz.

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chalabrun · 5 years

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May i request some spaceship aftermath? Venom all weak but staying away bc he still thinks Eddie doesn’t want to bond, Eddie desperately searching for his love and lots of thinking the other doesn’t want them angst please?

Whoo, this took too long, but--stay angsty, my friends. B]

Warning(s): T, somegore mentions, animal death

Loneliness was just a fact of the human condition. You copedwith it in either one of two ways: you found people to make the burden of it alittle less, or you made yourself so numb; like plunging your hand into icewater and becoming uncannily used to it. Or was it, really? Today, it wasincreasingly true. As technology grew more sophisticated and social media envelopedmore and more of peoples’ lives, thinking the greater world too dangerous toengage in beyond sheer necessity, or otherwise being the danger that alienatedyou from other people.

So, what happened you met a being that did the impossible?That completely dismantled those barriers and did what no person had trulyachieved before?

Eddie still remembered that explosion, that fire. How he andCarlton Drake had fought contentiously, Riot and Venom a catastrophic minglingof chaos that could’ve devolved and destroyed itself if it wanted to. Throughthose hellion hours, he hadn’t thought about it.

He hadn’t thought beyond the next step, never anticipatingwhen it was about survival. Eddie had grown immediately accustomed to thesymbiote, never wondering what it did to the cavernous emptiness that was thehuman mind, the vast echo chamber that reflected one’s thoughts.

Several weeks after the explosion, Eddie awoke from anuneasy dream. He’d tossed the sheets from his head and lunged towards somethingsinewy in the darkness, demanding, “Who’s there!” and receiving only darknessin reply.

No deep, smoldering voice telling him he was its. Nogrinning chuckle to curl over his shoulders.

“Goddammit, I’m losin’ my fuckin’ mind,” Eddie Brock cursedunder his breath as he glanced at his digital clock, feeling sweaty andclamminess crawl on his skin in drenching layers.

He wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. And what would bethe point in trying?

Throwing off the papery thin sheets, walking through the wetand perspiring humidity of his own home, days of being pent up and madlyconcentrated on the massive series of reports he was working on involving a deep,thorough expose on the Life Foundation that was taking weeks of his time at atime.

Stumbling into the shower, blindly cleansing himself, justas blindly did he stumble back into a pair of jeans, hoodie, and sneakers andout into the world of the witching hour in search what he knew not.

San Francisco Bay scintillated beautifully under themoonlight, the expanse of the Golden Gate Bridge the crowning glory of the viewthat dominated the sloping hill. To the convenience store he frequented didEddie trudge towards, the route there feeling so much emptier without Maria.Was that how he was, now? Empty? Empty without the symbiote?

This struck him like lightning on the way to the conveniencestore, troubled by the thought. It followed him into the blinding white light,pursuing him relentlessly.

Mrs. Chen regarded him oddly, brows furrowing. “Mr. Brock,are you alright?” she queried, self-realization creeping in and realizing hewas standing blankly before the few aisles there were.

The blond nodded apologetically. “I, uh—yeah. Sorry, Mrs.Chen. Jus’ kinda outta it since it’s so early and all. Workin’ overtime can dothat to’a guy.”

She nodded in understanding. “Alright. I’ll be here if youneed anything,” she replied with a kind, matronly smile.

Why did even this feel so far away? He smiled wearily. “Thanks,Mrs. Chen. Really appreciate it.” He got some nonsensical foodstuffs he couldn’tremember the labels to and paid for it in cash, mind working on autopilot as hemade way into the dark streets again.

It weighed oppressively upon him, the dark. How interactingwith other people didn’t feel human. How different it all was without hisOther, the being that had taken that loneliness away and had devoured it whole,purring victoriously in his chest.

But, the hollow niche Venom had made was empty.

And it made him ache until he dunked himself totally in thebucket of ice water and stayed there.

In the days following the rocket explosion, disturbingreports had emerged. Those who cared to be privy to the local vermin populationnoticed a growing trend of rats and other small animals found dead increasingly.Local scientists speculated the appearance of an invasive species, errant CCTVfootage confirming sight of a nebulous, ebony being they were calling someunrecorded species of serpent.

Serpents weren’t nearly as flexible, but it was all theywere willing to peg it upon as not to incite panic.

This creature was slowly graduating on to larger preyanimals, mainly those of a domestic variety. How long before a person was next?They didn’t want to say.

Wider audiences called it a conspiracy theory to account forunorthodox animal experimentation. Conspiracy theorists agreed it was somealien species from the bottom of the sea, God knowing what.

They didn’t know the symbiote’s mind, of the missingchemicals it was voracious for. That beyond even that, there was a deep andcloying hunger for something nameless its host had given it.

But, how was that even possible?

The Klyntar had been rejected by its own species. What hadonce been a peaceable race that bonded symbiotically with weaker creatures hadbecome frenzied by a carnivorous and impersonal want for destruction. To takeover hosts and leave a trail of spent corpses in their wake, ravaging planetsuntil time to move unto another place to make desolate.

It never wanted that. It wanted to bond into somethingfulfilling.

Eddie Brock had changed it. Ravaging desire and hunger hadfilled the empty spaces Brock had left behind, making it hollow. The symbiotefelt confused and hurt, even though nothing could be done when Eddie thought itdead.

But, why would he want it back?

In a torrid pall of silence did meditate in its crude lairof dead vermin that had amassed through the weeks, the stench of rot prevalentbut still warm in a ghoulish way.

It wanted its host back. The loss consumed it, made itsappetite for violence something thoughtless and wanton.

Human emotions, human loneliness, human yearning. Was thiswhy it was so weak? Craving Eddie like a drug and wanting a hit but fearedrejection.

A frenzied thought, one propelled by want: why not return tohim? Why not try?

Why? Because rejection loomed like a reaper and theirconnection had been spontaneous, not truly choosing one another. This causedthe symbiote to whimper in the dankness of the sewer it called home now, thelights on San Francisco Bay making it feel indescribably lonely and wretched.

Is that what it was called? Loneliness?

Shivering wretchedly, Venom coiled around itself in somevain semblance of contact, consumed by so much want that it ached and poundedin it like its former host’s heartbeat.

Venom tried to remember that heartbeat, that warmth.

And fitfully, still so terribly lonely, it attempted sleep.

#eddie brock #venom #symbrock #mrs. chen #my writing #I AM A SUFFERING MAN AND THESE ARE MY SUFFERING HANDS #Anonymous

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beinglibertarian · 5 years

Text

No, Twitter Should Not Be Nationalized

The Twitter Conservatives are channelling their inner central planner by their call for tighter regulation, or even nationalization of their primary social network. Actor cum conservative commentator James Woods Tweeted a link to an article reporting on radio host Jesse Kelly’s reinstatement to the platform with the caption, “When will Congress regulate these jokers?” He was then one-upped by another blue checkmark, Paul Shelter, who replied, “nationalize, don’t regulate.” Then, Will Chamberlain and Michael Malice somehow got involved, and the former posted a video, with the hope of persuading Malice, with his arguments in favor of nationalizing Twitter.

The video is good-natured and friendly towards Malice and others who disagree. He, like many conservatives, is frustrated with Twitter’s banning policy, which seems to discriminate against conservative viewpoints. He sees Twitter, headed by avowed liberal CEO Jack Dorsey, as being transformed into a left-wing propaganda platform. He says the arbitrariness of his censorship policy has been a tool for ideologues to silence opposition.

Those who identify with the right-wing are being suspended or banned for ambiguous reasons. In the case of the previously cited Jesse Kelly, his account was taken down for “repeat violation of Twitter rules,” without warning, or specifics on the offending content. He was just given back his account without explanation. Others who have been permabanned may or may not have violated the Terms of Service, but it’s enforced willy-nilly. Left-wing Tweeters with just as inflammatory content do not receive the same treatment.

Even though I am not a conservative, I do not agree with Twitter’s banning policy. It should be clearer and enforced more consistently. I’m even prepared to say that Jack Dorsey and the other Twitter heads have a political angle with enforcement. However, there is firstly nothing wrong with this, especially from a libertarian point of view, and regardless, the solution to censorship is not nationalization or even regulation of Twitter.

The issue with Twitter

Wherein I attempt to persuade @michaelmalice to join the #NationalizeTwitter movement https://t.co/3rLESrKdOU

— Will Chamberlain

(@willchamberlain) November 28, 2018

The status quo is, says Chamberlain, “Our speech is being regulated by 20 liberals in a room in San Francisco.” The first response one might give is that being banned from Twitter doesn’t mean one cannot speak on other platforms, which is true, Chamberlain admits. But examples such as Milo Yiannopoulos show us that being removed from Twitter, the dominant discussion driver represents a significant diminishing of your outreach, and can lead to a cascade of banning on other platforms. The result is a “monopoly” of liberal orthodoxy.

Despite that, I would say, that’s just how the cookie crumbles. Firstly, if those platforms didn’t aggress against anyone in their removal of users, there’s nothing legally wrong occurring. Second, it represents society’s rejection of views being propagated with their facilitation. Twitter does not have an obligation to host views they disagree with, or even “facts they’re afraid of,” if the conservatives insist, at their own expense. You and I may not like the fact that Milo is banned almost everywhere, but we are not prevented from consuming his output. He has simply lost in the battle of ideas.

Above all, nobody has the right to a platform. That would represent a call to someone else’s labor on your behalf. Twitter didn’t come from the ether – it came from the foresight, ingenuity, and investment of entrepreneurs. Imagine if Twitter had been invented by a conservative instead, and its main purpose was to be a platform for conservatives to interact peer-to-peer. Then when it became popular, liberals complained that they were being marginalized, and called for the platform to be nationalized. Conservatives could rightly tell them where to stick it.

Is Twitter a monopoly? Chamberlain points out that Twitter does not make a profit, yet is valued at over $20 billion on the stock market. Investors value Twitter over profit-making institutions such as The New York Times because of its potential monopolizing influence. Profit only matters if there is competition, and there doesn’t seem to be any. The internet economy produces a winner-takes-all effect where one platform seems to represent full-spectrum dominance.

Yet this does not represent a literal monopoly. A monopoly is not just where there is no competition. It is when there cannot be any competition. There have been plenty of corporations and brands in the recent past who seemed to have had an unstoppable hold on their niche, yet are now forgotten. The obvious examples being Nokia and MySpace. It’s not obvious that Twitter will enjoy dominance forever, as they experience stock falls. They might find that it benefits them more, in the long run, to be more accommodating of opposing views. Provided the state is not involved, it cannot be a true monopoly.

The problem with State-run institutions

Chamberlain believes that a state-run Twitter would be better for free speech, even admitting that you cannot guarantee that your preferred party is in power at the time. He trusts in the 1st Amendment of the US Constitution to protect the right of dissenters to have their say. Citing journalist’s Jim Acosta’s reinstatement to Presidential press conferences through a court order, he argues that state-run institutions are more accountable when it comes to constitutionally protected rights.

This is a naive trust in the efficacy of government to protect rights. There are many ways that the government makes a mockery of the 1st amendment that doesn’t involve direct censorship. Even the current mainstream news bloc is not truly private – being stuck to the hip of government. You don’t need to censor anybody if you shape the terms of the debate.

Even in the case of Presidential press conferences, not everybody is allowed in. The realities of space and time prohibit everyone in the country with a press hat shoving a microphone in the President’s face. The parameters for letting people in necessarily limit the bounds of debate – the three by five card of allowable opinion.

This form of soft-censorship is apparent in the BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation). Defenders of the BBC claim that it is not a state broadcaster in the sense that it is funded by a source separate from taxation, and is separate from the government. It’s true too that it does not explicitly put forward an agenda. The BBC agenda is more about streamlining the bounds of debate. You can disagree vociferously, providing it is within that impossibly small Overton window it presents.

As an example of this in action, check out this clip of a BBC Newsnight interview with Glen Greenwald around the time of the “Trump memo” in early 2017:

youtube

The presenter is happy to have him on, but as soon as Greenwald begins to question the validity of the CIA, she transforms from the dispassionate journalist to the ideological crusader. She is appalled by Greenwald’s assertion, and repeats it back in a tone that suggests, “It’s hard to believe anybody would ever dream of having this opinion.” It’s not censorship, but shame.

This is one example of how state broadcasters shape the terms of the debate without actual censorship. It’s true, Britain does not have the same constitutional protection for freedom of speech that the United States does, but regardless, what the BBC does is not directly denying a platform to anyone, or censoring at all. It’s a sleight of hand that the US government would be just as capable of doing if Twitter was nationalized.

They could do this via filtering – only showing “appropriate and relevant” content at the top of the feed. They could have keyword filtering. In other words, the many means in which Twitter soft-censors now will be available to the government too. It’s irrelevant if nobody is banned if nobody can see their content in the first place.

Moreover, nationalization of media is a totalitarian option more becoming of communist hyper states than those that supposedly champion individual freedom and a free press. No one seriously denies that RT, despite its occasional good journalism, is primarily designed to be a defender of the Russian regime. It is not a means to protect the rights of the Russian people. Suggesting the US Twitter would be anything else other than The Ministry of Truth, like every other state broadcaster, is ungrounded speculation.

International quagmires

There are also severe practical problems that prevent Twitter from being nationalized. Twitter is an international platform. Even though the US is the biggest Twitter user, Japan comes close, followed by the United Kingdom, and Saudi Arabia. Twitter is also known for hosting content put out by extremist political groups such as The Islamic State. The nationalization of Twitter would necessarily produce a conflict of interest as the US might be obligated to host content by opponents of the West.

The other option would be that the US would only be obligated to host opinions of American citizens, as they are the only ones whose speech is protected by the constitution. The government could then censor content from other countries as it saw fit. That’s all fine until international content legitimately challenges the US government. Content that might be of interest to the American people could reasonably be censored under the excuse of protecting national security.

No, it is better that Twitter is politically independent. Although not perfect, and some views are bound to be marginalized, the alternative presents more serious moral hazards.

The problem is State power

Will Chamberlain does highlight a real problem with the relationship between social media and government. Let’s say for the sake of argument that Twitter is a dominant platform with a liberal political agenda, it is an issue that those persuaded by that agenda will then go to lobby government to change public policy. But that is a problem with state power, not with Twitter per se. You could argue for nationalization of just about anything, as just about any institution can influence government.

It is inherently nonsensical to combat state control with more state control. Nationalising Twitter only increases the potential spoils of political power. There will be even more incentive for censorship and control as any slight change in tone could produce serious policy repercussions. It will create more conflict as opinion will only be more influential in our lives.

Let’s take for example the almost perennial issue of prayer in schools. The only reason why we still argue about this is that of the inherent zero-sum-game that comes from government coercion. It wouldn’t be necessary to vociferously debate about the merits of prayer in school if people were free to choose schools based on their own will. As it stands, education is compulsory, so no matter who wins, someone has to lose. In a free society, there are schools with prayer and schools without. Parents may choose either.

So too with the media, we must err on the side of freedom. Nationalization is inherently a violation of liberty.

The post No, Twitter Should Not Be Nationalized appeared first on Being Libertarian.

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sweetpea-cc · 6 years

Text

Who Are You? Part V

Pairing: Reader x the Mikaelson clan

Warnings: None really

Word Count: 4,621

If there is anything that people should know about the supernatural world, it's that nothing stays dead. At least, not permanently because we always find a way to come back.

Of course, something you never knew was that Circe, many years before her ultimate death, decided to enchant her blood, it was still your weakness, and it would still kill you but once you were dead, your blood would regenerate and hers would dominate yours until not a single drop existed. However, there is always downside and unfortunately for you, it would take months or years for your body to completely 'regenerate'.

Of course, something you never knew was that Circe, many years before her ultimate death, decided to enchant her blood, it was still your weakness, and it would still kill you but once you were dead, your blood would regenerate and dominate hers until not a single drop existed. However, there is always downside and unfortunately for you, it would take months or years for your body to completely 'regenerate'.

When you finally woke up, the world was dark and you were confused, gasping for breath. Slowly, you start to come to and realize where you are you, or rather, what you're in. "Comfy coffin." you thought to yourself as you feel for the opening side of the casket. Using your strength, you pushed the lid open and sat up. You could tell that you were in a tomb of some sort, due to the dusty scent in the air. Swinging your legs to the right, you jump out of the casket, loosing your balance momentarily but quickly corrected yourself. Guess not using your legs after a while makes them nearly useless, you laugh to yourself.

Looking around, you find the exist, your heart beating with excitement. Upon exiting, you hiss at the blinding sun sinking down, but you cherished it, cherished the warming feeling and breathed in deeply. It didn't take long for the sky to turn dark, bringing in a chilly feeling. You'd forgotten how much you took being alive for granted. This time around, things would be different, and this you knew to the very core of your being. You felt lighter, stronger, faster, and more dangerous than ever. Sure, your original purpose was to be a peace maker between the species. Perhaps that could still happen, but until then, you were going to just embrace the fact that you were breathing again.

You stepped out of tomb, and immediately knew where you were- The Lafayette Cemetery No.1. How cute, Klaus kept you nearby but that thought didn't prevent you from scowling at the fact that you met your previous demise in the same place.

To your right, you saw a cluster of flowers, all in different stages of dying. It was nice to know that someone still visited your grave. Among that, you noticed the poor disarrayed cemetery. Crypts were destroyed and plants growing through the cracks. The moon was shining strong and brightly and there was gentle chill in the air, cold weather was your favorite but right now, you were craving warmth and sunlight.

Your stomach growls as you lick your lips, the hunger you felt was stronger than ever, which told you either you'd been dead for a long time, or something was going to go terrible wrong. You were hoping for the latter.

From a far distance, you can hear to boisterous and lively chatter and beautiful music of New Orleans. You decided to follow the sounds, feeling light on your feet, also like you could fly. A bright smile formed upon your face as you thought about seeing Klaus again, seeing Hope and Freya, Elijah and Rebekah. Of course, that didn't fool you into think Klaus would rush into your arms as if the two of you were long lost lovers. As far as you knew, he would still be angry with you.

One moment you were walking and then the next, you were pulled into an alley, a hand plunged into your chest. You gasp sharply, so that's how it felt. Your grimace, struggling against your assailant, "When are you witches going to stop wearing her damn face. It's gotten rather old by now, darling." You recognized that voice, low and full of secrets. You force yourself to stop struggling and focus on the face in front of you.

"Kol- Kol, it's me, it's Y/N!" You gasp, struggling for air. By the terrifying grin and dangerous look on him face, you knew he didn't believe a damn word coming out of your mouth. Frantically you search your mind for something about him that only the two of you knew, and you had to be quick because Kol looked more than ready to rip your throat out.

"Don't you remember? When Klaus daggered you and Davina couldn't get near you, so I did it for her and when you woke up, you had to feed a-and you immediately grabbed my wrist? And then I got a cold shoulder from Klaus for like two weeks." You were rambling on, hoping he would believe what you were saying. Slowly, you see his eyes soften as he releases his hold on you. Letting out a small cry of relief, you sink to the ground and Kol follows suit.

"How?" Was all he asked, and you just shrug "Honestly, I don't know but I'm guessing it has something to do with Circe. She was a sly devil, you know?" Your head leans against the brick wall as you let the feeling of sadness wash over you and disappear just as quick. "Ahh, who the hell is Circe?"

"Oh- right, right. Umm, she's the one who created me." You offer him a small smile, which he kindly returns. Kol and you are silent for a few moments and then you stand up, dusting yourself off and holding out your hand for Kol to take, which he gladly accepts.

He stares at you for a little bit, as if he's trying to see if you're real or not. Which reminded you of something he'd said earlier.

"What did you mean when you said you were 'tired of witches wearing my face'?" You ask, using air quotes around the last part.

"It's ridiculous really, but after you died, a bunch of witches were feeling brave, I guess and decided to taunt Klaus for gods know what reason. Safe to say, none of them are alive anymore, and Elijah and I decided that if we saw anyone else doing so, we'd take care of it. He really was a mess after your death, you know. Extremely angry, at everything... especially you." Your heart hurts upon hearing this and you feel an annoying urge to cry. Rather, you clear your throat and continue listening to Kol.

"You've missed a lot. Marcel drank whatever crap Lucien did and bit Finn, who we undaggered by the way, Finn started dying and Klaus tried to help him and it seemed to work for a little bit but then he started convulsing and that was it. Then he bit Elijah, and then we let Rebekah out who had been hexed to go mad and kill everyone around her. Klaus was 'brought to justice' but his sires and stabbed with the Tunde blade and then Freya locked all of us in some deep sleep inside her head while Klaus remained captive by Marcel." You couldn't believe what you were hearing, what the hell was going on, how long were gone?

"Umm, right, Davina died, got her soul shredded by the Ancestors. And then there was Hayley who went and saved all of us, but that took time and when she did, everything was great but of course there was a new threat but this time is was some prissy 1,500 year old one called the Hollow who then brought Davina back from the dead and then decided to take over Hope's body and she wrecked havoc but then that one witch... uh, Vincent came up with an idea to split the spirit or whatever of the said witch and put a quarter of it in each of us. Sadly, after that we were forced to go our separate ways permanently so prevent it from becoming whole again and hurting Hope. And we couldn't stay in New Orleans because 'home ground' or whatever for the evil witch. So Davina and I went to San Francisco, Rebekah went off to New York with Marcel, Elijah somewhere in France, don't know exactly where Klaus went and Freya stayed in New Orleans with her girlfriend and Hayley took Hope to Virginia so she could attend some fancy boarding school for the gifted."

Your breathing was short and quick by now, your mind rushing fast than the speed of light. You put your hand on both sides of Kol's shoulders "Kol.. how long have I been dead?" You ask, nearly on the brink of tears.

"11 years." And you feel your body fall and Kol catches you. Eleven years, eleven fucking years. Sure that didn't seem like much, but still it hurt that you had missed out on so much. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, "Why are you here? I mean, from what you just told me, that's too dangerous."

"Right, Freya called all of us home, except for Hope of course. She thinks that she found a way to contain the spirit but she needs a very strong source of power, like ancestor-strong but stronger. She sent me to the cemetery to... retrieve your body."

"She was going to channel me? How would that even work? You know, because I was dead." That word tasted sour in your mouth, you certainly did not fancy being so.

"Don't know, she said something about you being more powerful than you thought you were considering who made you. And then she started talking and talking and would shut up which brings us to now." He throws his hands up, as if a he had just finished a grand play.

Suddenly, you feel funny, lightheaded and vision around you goes white. Frantic, you look around, wanting scream. What if this was just some kind of hell, some type of torture?

"It's not. Torture, I mean." A soft voice sounds from behind you, slowly you turn around and there she is. Choked sobs form as you look at her. "Circe." Shaking your head wildly, this wasn't possible.

"I assure you it is, and yes I can read your mind because technically I'm in your mind." She smiles gently and your heart warms, you'd missed her so much.

"You know, your friend is right. You're so much more powerful than you think. Even more powerful than the original family combined. Doesn't sound real, does it? You know, when I created you, I had this vision of something, someone making waves of peace between every species, to ensure the survival of them. Sadly, witches hate vampires and vampires hate werewolves. At least, most of them" a mirthful laugh comes from her.

"I am proud of you, I hope you that. As you grew up, I started to look at you like a child I never had and in a way, I suppose you are my child."

"How are you here? Even if it's in my head. Constance told me that the Ancestors shredded your souls after they brought you back which they were able to because I failed to burn your body like I knew you wanted me too." You hang your head down, ashamed but Circe places a hand under your chin and lifts it up and your eyes starting hard into her cold ones.

"I am with you, always. Quite literally I might add, when Constance injected you with my blood, it did kill you, but over the years that you were gone, my blood worked it's way throughout your entire body, replacing your own. It cannot harm you anymore, and will never be used as a weapon. I ensured this several years ago because I could no bear the thought of someone taking your away from me. Because I knew without a doubt, that if you were to die, I'd never see you again." She places a sweet, loving kiss upon your forehead and you feel tears beginning to fall.

"You can take the spirit of this witch, my dear Y/N. In a way, you're far older and more powerful than she. You can destroy her soul, which is the only thing she has." You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "You can siphon magic, Y/N. That's all she is." Your eyes go wide as the white background begins to fade and you can hear Kol yelling your name.

"Y/N! What's wrong?" He questioned, seeming terrified. How funny.

You look at him curiously, not saying anything, it was as if you'd been possessed because the next thing you knew, your hand was inside of Kol's chest, but not physically. Your hand searched for that powerful piece of the Hollow and when you locate it, deep inside of him, you pull it out. It was beautiful to you, deep and glowing and you can see the look of panic on Kol's face.

Breathing in deeply and closing your eyes, you holding the glowing orb between your hands, slowly, you feel the power flow from the orb to you and it begins to flicker like a dying light. Perhaps in a way, that's exactly what it was.

When the last ounce of the light diminishes, the orb crumbles in your hand into nothing but ash. Some part of you decided to take a more drastic measure because better safe than sorry, right? Collecting the ash in your other hand, you conjure a flame in your hand, destroying every single particle of what was once a quarter of the Hollow.

When you look up, Kol is standing there completely flabbergasted. "What did you do?!" He shouts, making you flinch involuntarily. "I destroyed part of her, and she'll never be able to put herself back together. Ever." Your eyes glaze over, you needed to do something with the power you had just siphoned, release it in some kind of way. You thought of the Harvest and how the Ancestors would let strong amounts of power flow into the earth. But you remembered Circe's words "you can take the spirit of the witch.." What did she mean by that? Could you hold every part of her and be fine? Would the spirit become too strong inside you and take over as it did to himawan your time I dont is that I wanna read othe many questions and weren't sure if anyone had the answers.

"Look, everyone is at the compound. Freya put up some 2,000 year old boundary spell to contain each of us, and I think it's preventing the rest of the Hollow from becoming whole again. But you know, she still needs you." Kol holds out his hand so he can lead you away, surprisingly, you're very hesitant. In a way, this was your chance to start over, begin a brand new life far away from death, pain, and the horror that the Miakelson's faced on a daily basis. Reluctantly, you grab him hand and before you can blink, the two of your are standing outside of the compound. Kol turns to face you, his expression grim, "Before I forget, Caroline is here."

"Caroline...?" Klaus told you about a lot of things but whoever Caroline was definitely didn't hit the Top Ten or One Hundred. Kol kind of whines, rocking his body back and forth in a nonchalantly way. "Ehh, some girl Nik's been pinning over for nearly two decades now." you feel a lump in your throat but force it down.

You let go of Kol's hand as he strides forward but you stay behind, it would seem you weren't quite ready to see all them again, Klaus especially.

"Kol! Where have you been? You were supposed to bring Y/N! I need to use her magic, I told you this a hundred times before you left." You hear Freya's voice shout, echoing off the walls of the compound. You could practically see Kol rolling his eyes at Freya's dramatics, "Technically, I did bring her..." Kol sheepishly responds, earning him beyond confused looks not only from Freya, but Klaus, Rebekah, and Elijah too.

"And you can use it." Your voice was small but steady as your walked through the dark entrance to the center of the compound. You stand silently as four of the Mikaelson's stare at you in disbelief, there was no way you were here right now. You noticed Freya staring at the big rip in the center of your dress and you guessed Kol did too, "I tried to ripped her heart out. So in case you guys don't think Y/N is herself, I can confirm."

Everyone was quiet, it was like time was standing still, frozen in place. "It's good to see you again, Y/N. You look well" Elijah speaks up, bring a smile to your face "I could say the same for you, considering from what I heard, you were dead." Elijah laughs, shaking his head in amusement. You cast your eyes downward, you were afraid to face him, afraid to look him in the eye.

When you finally did look up, Klaus' eyes bore deeply into your own. You could see anger, hurt, and betrayal shining in them, but yet, still there was that flicker of gentleness, kindness that you loved. His eyes were glossy but the more you stared the more you swore anger and resentment was building. Quickly you look away and advert your attention towards Rebekah. In a way, she always was your favorite, perhaps because she was a wild mixture of all of her brothers- temperamental, loyal, and sarcastic. You offer her a small smile, which she graciously returns.

"Okay, look I'm sorry to cut the niceties short, but Y/N, I really need to do this now, they've already been near each other long enough. Kol get back in your spot." Freya points to an empty square between Rebekah and Elijah and links your hand with hers. "Nah, I'm good. Y/N took whatever part of the Hollow I had in me. Crushed it into nothing."

"What?!" Freya drops your hand sharply, putting some kind of strain on your arm. She turns to look at Kol, eyeing him down, wondering if this was some kind of joke. Holding her hand just a few inches from Kol's chest, she closes her eyes and whispers a few incantations. Her eyes shoot open and jumps back ever so slightly. "How is that possible? There's not a single shred of the Hollow in you." Kol gives Freya his award-winning 'I-just-said-that' face and Freya spins around, her face in front your own. "How did you do that?" her tone was serious and emergent.

"The Hollow is nothing more than this ball of energy, of magic. Strong, yes, but a simple form a magic nonetheless. I siphoned that magic until there was nothing left." You were struggling to find your voice for some reason, it was strange being back in the place that brought your pain and happiness, and it was even more strange seeing a man that you'd grown to love furiously, even if he was now in love with someone else.

"So you currently have the Hollow's powers or something?" Freya asks, taking a small step back from you, as if she was now scared to even breathe near you.

"I don't know, honestly I didn't even know what I doing the first time I did it. I was in some kind of trance or something." you could feel yourself nearly tripping over your own words, how was this supposed to go? And more importantly, how would it end?

Suddenly you start feeling lightheaded again, but this time you know it's because you're starving. Your body sways and you struggle to find your balance, you feel your eyes turning a bloodshot red and spider-like veins creeping through. Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you see Klaus start to run towards you, only to be stopped by the barrier spell. "Y/N, what's wrong?!" all five of the Mikaelson's ask, worry laced with concern. You clear your throat, shaking your head, "I'm fine, just-I'm just really hungry." In this very moment, you realized that in all of the years they'd known you, they had never seen you feed, they knew nothing about your habits. They simply figured that you lived all blood bags and normal human food, which you did, except blood bags were a person, and that person was you.

One of the downfalls of being who you were, was that you would be hit with incredibly strong feelings of hunger, you tend to be a little rash, like Klaus-Mikaelson-out-for-revenge-rash. The upside to that, however, was that your thirst for blood could be easily suppressed because your source of blood was you. This was something that you kept to yourself because truth be told, it seemed abnormal. Your hand slams down on Freya's shoulder, using her for support, and your head turns towards Kol, "Kol, could you be a darling and get me a glass?" you were trying hard not to let your hunger control you.

Unlike vampires, you didn't need blood from other sources because due to your human and witch side, you body functioned the way one normally would- blood constantly renewing and replenishing itself. In a way, your blood was completely pure.

Kol returns quickly with a glass, dubiety written across his face. You let go of Freya, trying to block out the fact that you had five people who you were close to, staring so intently at you as you were about to expose your secret to them. You bring your wrist to your mouth, and bite hard, breaking the skin and rest your wrist over the glass, a generous amount of blood spilling in. You were definitely going to need more, but for now, what you had would have to do. Slowly, you bring the glass to your lips and down it in seconds, feeling immediately better.

"Did you just.. feed from yourself?" Kol demands, he mouth hanging open slightly. You could feel him judging you, the disgust, which was completely fine, you didn't care but his tone aggravated you. Stalking over to him now eye to eye, you growl "I do not care for you tone Kol Mikaelson. I may have been dead for 11 years but do not think my patience has grown." your voice was low and dangerous, and for a few milliseconds, fear flashed in his non caring eyes.

Spinning around to face Freya, you ignore the looks on their faces. "Let's get this over with shall we?" You hold out your hand for her to take but she refuses, pulling an astonish look from you.

"Do you think you could do what you did to Kol again? Because if I'm being honest, I don't even know if this spell is going to work." Freya confesses and you can see the looks of worry and annoyance plastered on everyone's faces. You were just about to say no when a ghost like figure of Circe appeared standing in the corner of the compound. She didn't say anything, just simply nodded her head and gave you a smile that was sweet and loving yet stern at the same time. Just as quickly as she appeared, Circe was gone.

Taking in a shaky breath, you focus your attention of Freya, nodding your rapidly. "Okay, is there anything you need up to do?" Freya asked, you could nearly see the concern flowing out. Hmm, perhaps she'd changed a little bit in the past eleven years that you were dead.

"I just need everyone to shut up, not make a single sound." as you say this, you eye Kol, Klaus, and Rebekah knowingly, who all throw their hands up in surrender. Slowly you walk forward until you're standing in front of Elijah. "Just don't move okay? It's not going to hurt, I don't think.." you voice was laced with uncertainty as you look to Kol for confirmation and he merely shrugs, "Didn't feel a thing." he replies, making you laugh, albeit the moment was inappropriate but honestly, it was nice to have a genuine laugh. "Do you ever feel anything?" you inquire making Kol give off her award-winning smirk.

Focusing on your breathing, you feel your eyes glaze over once again despite trying to prevent them from doing so. Slowly, you reach your phantom like hand into Elijah's chest, pulling out the other half of the Hollow. Again, the glowing blue orb nearly mesmerizes you, drawing you in, although from what you heard, that was exactly what it did. Quickly you look away, following the exact same steps that you did with Kol. This time, you felt even stronger while siphoning the magic from it, and that almost worried you. Circe said you could do this and you prayed that if there even was a God, that Circe was not trying to destroy you for her own personal gain.

The orb dismantles into absolute nothingness as you burn every last part of the remains. You turn to Freya, signaling her to check Elijah just to be safe, to be sure that there was not an ounce of the Hollow left in him. Freya takes down his boundary spell and does so and nods to you, as to say that you could continue. Like you needed her permission. The next person is Rebekah, you notice that she's as gorgeous as ever, perks of being immortal you guessed. Yet there was this.. sadness in her eyes, you wondered what was causing it. With ease, you pull the Hollow from Rebekah's chest and destroy it, then send her off to Freya for checking.

Your breathing hitched as you walked towards Klaus, he was still as beautiful in your eyes as he'd always been. You avoid his eyes as you begin your work, which again, you do with ease, finally freeing each of the Mikaelson's from the Hollow, allowing them to become a family. After Freya takes down the final boundary spell, the siblings all gather around each other, hugs and handshakes and glad smiles. The whole time you were in the compound, you never did notice Caroline standing in the corner, waiting patiently. However, you did notice that once Freya released Klaus, Caroline ran over to him and jump in his arms, seemingly squealing with delight.

Your heart cracked, but what else did you expect? For him to remain stuck on you for eternity? That would be rather cruel. In the mist of all of them being so happy to each other, to be able to talk and stand in the same room without 2,000 year old protection spell, you began to fade away, though your weren't surprised. Quietly, you stand there, taking in their expressions of true satisfaction and then, reluctantly, you walk away leaving them behind to continue their lives, this time together once again. Perhaps this was your chance to make peace, be who you were originally meant to be, or you thought to yourself, you find a small, quaint town in the middle of nowhere, where no one knew you and live your life the best way you could think of.

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Tag List: @poemfreak306 @zaghawia @cococola-cocaine @lilulo-12 @jaiboomer11 @fafulous @valeria-winchester

A/N so like i really hope you guys like this one! shoot me a message or something if y’all are interested in another part :) Until then! Also, sorry for the lack of gifs! :/

#the originals #reader x klaus #klaus mikaelson #kol mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #freya mikaelson #nationalrebellion #imagine #one shot #joseph morgan #daniel gillies #nathaniel buzolic #claire holt #riley voelkel #davina claire #danielle campbell #reader

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