#anyway i’ve had those photos on my wall for 15 years reminding me of my shame.

[kalique]

don’t think i don’t still remember in 2009 when my mom embarrassed me in front of eoin colfer 3 separate times

#first when he walked by she squealed at him. and he noticed. he was like hi how ya doing. #then after the event ended she like. stayed in her seat. after everyone left. to talk to him. i was like PLEASE LETS LEAVE #then at the signing. why did we make him sign 3 books. and why did she have to tell him our freaking life story #‘’we drove two hours’’ HE DOESNT CARE HE FLEW FROM MFING IRELAND GIRL!!!!!! #anyway i’ve had those photos on my wall for 15 years reminding me of my shame.

[sequinsmile-x]

Riptide

A love story told from two perspectives. One after it is has ended, and the other just as it begins.

Chapter 1: The Beginning 

Words: 3.8k 

Rating: Mature. Major Character Death.

You can either read over on a03, or below the cut. 

I would love to know what you think. 

“I have loved with the breadth of the ocean, and lost with the grief of rainfall.” - Angie Weiland-Crosby ___________________

October 2025

His wake is in the house they shared together. People she both recognised and didn’t mill through their home, giving her and Jack their condolences as they passed by.

Emily’s grief felt oppressive, like she was drowning in it. Every breath she heaved in through her lungs burned in her chest. Hollowing out the place where his love used to live.

She had been through a lot in her life. Her childhood was snatched away from her at 15 in a small clinic in Rome. Ian Doyle had torn through her life twice, leaving disaster behind him both times. The ruins of her life his personal victory, even in his death.

But this, losing Aaron, was by far the worst thing she had experienced. Since the moment she was told he was dead she had struggled to comprehend it, only really believing it when she was taken to see his body. Emily felt numb. She knew she was pushing everyone away but she couldn’t help it. The solitude of her grief helped her just about cope enough to get up in the morning.

“Emily?”

She turns to see JJ standing at the door of Aaron’s home office, having clearly sought her out. Emily would place money on the fact the team was taking it in turns to check on her. Their own grief for Aaron outweighed by concern for her.

“I’m hiding from my mother.” Emily explains from where she is sitting on the couch. “She has no tact and I can’t cope with her today of all days.”

JJ sits next to her and places her hand on Emily’s. She runs a thumb over her knuckles. A gesture Emily thinks is supposed to be comforting, but she can barely feel it. The numbness she has felt the last couple of weeks ever present. Like she was watching life from behind glass, all of her senses muted and warped by grief.

“Em-”

“Don’t ask me if I’m ok. Or say anything kind.” She pulls her hand from under JJ’s and stands, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Trying desperately to hold herself together, but feeling like she could fall apart any minute. “I don’t think I can take it.”

JJ stands too but keeps a good distance from her friend, respecting the boundaries Emily had put firmly in place the morning after everything changed. “He wouldn’t want this for you, he’d be worried.”

Emily scoffs, but tears fall onto her cheeks anyway. She furiously wipes them away with the heel of her hand. “I wish people would stop saying that.”

JJ’s face crumbles, barely restrained emotion on her own face. “He loved you Emily. You were going to-”

“JJ. I really don’t need you to explain my relationship to me.” Emily says harshly, bitter words falling past her lips to stop her from breaking down. She felt like she hadn’t stopped crying in days. “I have to go check on Jack.”

“Em-”

“He lost his father. The only parent he had left. He’s what’s important right now, everything else can wait.” She turns to leave, hand hovering over the door handle to lead her out of his office and she hesitates to turn back around to look at her friend. “I love Aaron, JJ.” The use of the present tense wasn’t lost on either of them. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone. And he’s gone. I’m never going to get him back and you need to let me deal with that in my way. Okay?”

She leaves the office before JJ can respond. She walks through the hallway of the house she and Aaron had bought together, a photo on the wall making her stop in her tracks. Penelope had taken it on a night out with the team not long after Emily and Aaron first got together. She had just been injured on a case, her shoulder still sore from where she’d been stabbed. Aaron was still fussing, not drinking so he could take her home whenever she was done. He had pulled her onto his lap, his broad chest protecting her shoulder from being jostled by anyone. Occasional whispers in her ear asking how she was slowly driving her crazy. Penelope snapped the photo as she turned her head to admonish him, a loving look on her face.

The squeal that came out of her friend after she took it still echoed around Emily’s head 4 years later. Penelope had passed her phone over, showing them the photo of them looking at each other like no one else existed.

She’s always loved that photo. She had sent it to her own phone immediately and had it printed. Now it made her heart clench in her chest, wishing she could see him again. Their home now felt like a museum of memories, their life together a snapshot in time that would never have been enough, even if they had grown old together. In the two weeks since he had died every part of her wanted to run, to get out and leave this all behind.

She stays despite everything in her screaming to leave. To get out of the house they shared, the city that reminded her of him at every turn. She wants to be somewhere he never had been, in the futile hope that she would one day be able to breathe without it being painful, without her lungs constricting like she was underwater.

She stays. She knows from experience that running away won’t fix anything, that she would just take memories of him anywhere she went. Carried on her skin like tattoos of his affection, etched permanently onto her. And in her worst moments, when having been loved by him felt more like a curse than the blessing it was when he was alive, she wishes she could hate him for it.

Jack is standing with Jessica in the living room. Emily is reminded of watching Aaron and Jack together at Haley’s funeral so many years ago. It was hard to believe that the little boy was now the young man in front of her, back in town from college and clearly wanting to be anywhere else.

He looks so much like Aaron that it steals her breath away.

“Jack.” She says gently as she approaches, a tight smile on her face. Both Jack and Jessica turn to look at her. “I’d ask how you are doing but that’s a stupid question.”

The 20 year old nods at her. “It’s weird. Knowing he’s gone forever.” Jack replies, clearing his throat. “It feels final now.”

Emily agrees, her fingers digging into the skin around her thumbnails. “Where are you staying tonight? You can stay here if you want. Your room is still set up.”

“I’m going to stay with Aunt Jessie.” He says tilting his head towards his aunt. “Thanks, though.” He adds as an afterthought. “Excuse me.” He walks off, having spotted Henry in the corner, and Emily sighs as he goes.

Her relationship with Jack had always been good, but since Aaron’s death it had been difficult. Tense in a way that tore through her. Their mutual love for Aaron was no longer the thing that was the foundation for Emily and Jack’s relationship.

It was that they both believed his death was her fault.

“Emily.” Jessica puts her hand on her arm and squeezes it. “He’ll come around. You know he doesn’t actually think-”

“Thanks, Jess.” She cuts the other woman off, not wanting to hear anything else. She walks off again, desperate for a moment alone.

JJ seeks her out again once most people have left. The team helps tidy up, removing all traces of the wake from her house before they leave. JJ has a plate of food in her hands that was clearly intended for Emily. She places it in front of her on the coffee table and sits next to her.

“I’m not hungry, JJ.”

“Em, please.” She says, worry laced through her voice. “You have to eat something. He wouldn’t-”

“JJ stop.” Emily shouts, finally at her wits end. “Aaron is dead. He’s dead. So it doesn’t really matter what he would want, does it?” She curses under her breath as tears spring to her eyes, and she wipes them furiously away from her cheeks as they fall. She’s aware of the rest of the team around them, stopping their individual tasks and desperately pretending they weren’t listening in.

“Emily-”

“Do you know what I keep thinking about?” She asks, interrupting any more platitudes JJ may have that she simply cannot bear to listen to, she watches as her friend shakes her head. “I keep thinking about when I died. There was nothing. It was dark, and empty. Just nothing.” Emily’s chin wobbles as she tries to keep the emotion in, failing as her next words choke out around a sob. “And I lay there at night, on his side of the bed, and hope it’s different for him.”

This time she doesn’t shy away from JJ’s touch, and allows herself to be pulled into a hug she cannot bring herself to return. ___________________________

Once everyone has gone she lays in bed, on his side, and stares at the ceiling. She is wearing one of his shirts and wonders when all of his clothes will stop smelling like him, when she will lose the last trace she has of him.

Emily closes her eyes, both wanting sleep to come and for it to evade her. Aaron was always in her dreams, mostly good ones. Memories of their lazy mornings in bed together played out during the night in her head. The sound of his laugh as he trailed his fingers down her spine to wake her slowly, his enjoyment at her inability to function first thing in the morning never ending.

The dreams were a blessing. A reminder that it had been real, that she’d had him. They were also a curse. She’d wake with the ghost of his touch on her skin, and for a blissful moment she’d forget he was dead. She’d half expect to see him standing at their bedroom door, coffee in hand with a smile on his face.

Then she would remember, and it was always too much to bear. ___________________________

It’s Dave that comes over. Letting himself into the house with the spare key Aaron had given him, claiming that he felt better knowing other people that they trusted had access to their home in case of an emergency. Emily knew it was a lingering fear he had from when Foyet had broken into his apartment, those memories still sharp in his mind until the day he had died.

A small knock on the bedroom door announces Dave’s arrival a mere second before he opens it. She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t tear her gaze from the dress hanging on the door of the closet. She's sitting on the floor, back pressed up against the side of the bed. Her knees are against her chest, her arms wrapped around them like she was physically holding herself together.

“Did you draw the short straw today, Dave?” She sniffs, wipes her hand across her face to wipe off what felt like ever present tears. “You guys don’t need to check up on me. I’m fine.”

Dave sighs and sits next to her, groaning as he joins her on the floor, his body protesting the movement. “You’re not fine, bella.” He says simply. “And the others don’t know I’m here.”

She can sense his want to help her, sees his fingers twitch out of the corner of her eye as he seemingly tries to figure out if she wants to be touched or not. In the end he settles for leaning against the bed with her, a distance between them just small enough that she can feel his presence. Emily leans her chin on her knees, eyes still fixed on the white dress infront of her.

The dress that, if things had been different, if she hadn’t lost him, she should have worn today. She remembers teasing Aaron about it, telling him just enough about how it fastened up her back, how careful he’d have to be when he took it off to not break any of the delicate buttons.

She fiddles with her engagement ring before she opens her clenched fist to reveal two matching wedding bands in the palm of her hand. The rings they would never get to wear.

“It’s meant to be my wedding day, Dave.” She says, voice breaking around the words that didn’t need to be said. “And he’s not here, he never will be.” ___________________________

June 2021

When Aaron first moves back to Virginia it feels strange, like he was stepping back in time. The first thing he thought of was the team, of her. Once he no longer had to hide his identity he could have reached out. He almost had more than once, this thumb hovering over Emily’s name in his contacts, but he always stopped himself. Unsure what to say, thinking whatever they could have been had passed them by in a flurry of tragic circumstance and bad timing.

He’s back for two weeks when he sees her, and she’s somehow more beautiful than ever. He calls her the next day. ___________________________

Emily shouts at him. A lot. Years of pent up anger and worry spilling out over the phone when she answers, mixed with curse words and sighs in a way that was just so *her* it makes him laugh.

“And what is so fucking funny, Aaron?”

He clears his throat, tries to smother another laugh but doesn’t quite manage it. “Nothing, Emily. I just...I missed you.”

“Well.” She replies. “Whose fault is that.” There’s a pause, and it is just long enough that he thinks she’s going to hang up, leaving their interaction there. Aaron is about to speak and give her an excuse when he hears her sigh. “I missed you too.”

A spark of hope flares in his chest, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. “How about I take you to dinner? My treat. You can yell at me in person.”

Emily laughs at that, and he can picture how her eyes would crinkle with it. She was always so damn beautiful when she smiled. “That does sound appealing.”

“Tomorrow? If you don’t get caught with a case?”

She pauses, and he would bet his life savings if he could see her that she was biting her lip. “Tomorrow.” ___________________________

When she doesn’t get a case, and confirms that she will meet him at the restaurant he suggested, Aaron tries not to overthink it. He tries not to get carried away and think that this could be their chance, that the universe was finally aligning for them.

Emily tells him about her relationship with Andrew, how it had come to an end. Both of them were too set in their ways to truly make room for each other in their lives. He tells her about Jack, how he cannot believe his son is a teenager. The years had slipped by in a way that made him reflective, and she teases him out of his melancholy by telling him stories about the team. Aaron didn’t realise how much time had passed until the waitress came over and gently told them they needed to close the restaurant. Emily exchanges a sheepish look with him when they realise they are the last ones there.

She refuses his offer of walking her home, claiming it was pointless since she lived so far away and that she’d be fine in a cab. He gets a text from her when he gets home himself, an offer of another meal soon, insisting that she pays next time.

For their third date, because that was how he now exclusively thought of their dinners, if only in his head, he purposely choses somewhere near hers so he can walk her home. She narrows her eyes at him as he suggests it, having figured out his game but she allows him to play it anyway.

During the three block walk to her place she slips her hand into his. He turned to look at her but she was pointedly looking ahead, avoiding his gaze. That’s when Aaron realises she wants this as much as he does, and is just as worried about it as he is, what it could do to both of them. Neither of them would ever admit it, but they were both fragile when it came to love. Damage as clear as the scars they both bore on their bodies.

He stops them in the street, now half a block from her building, and stands in front of her, still holding onto her hand. He uses his spare hand to cup her cheek, to make her look at him. She licks her lips, her eyes now staring right into his.

He’d always thought her eyes were beautiful.

Aaron closes the gap between them and presses his lips to hers. She responds almost immediately, tearing her hand out of his so she can cup the back of his head and pull him closer.

It’s years of waiting, of hoping, coming together in a perfect moment. Her hands are in his hair, and his are on her back, pulling her closer as he tastes the dessert they shared on her tongue.

She pulls back, and rests her forehead against his, a laugh escaping her lips before she presses them against his again.

“We should have been doing this for years.” She murmurs against his lips, her hand stroking the back of his head . He mumbles his agreement before kissing her again, unable to help himself now the dam was broken. She suddenly pulls away, lips swollen as she looks at him, seemingly remembering that they were standing in the street still. “Come on, let's go.”

Aaron smiles at her as she tugs his hand, determined to lead him down the street. “Where are we going?”

“To mine.” She says simply, groaning when he comes to a stop, easily stopping her from walking any further. He places a hand on her hip, pulling her closer to him again.

“Em-”

“Don’t ask me if I'm sure.” She says, bringing a hand to his cheek and smiling at him, “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

That night they lay in her bed, in tangled sheets, fingers trailing over scars they’d both imagined for years. They are reverent with each other, acting as if they are both made of something precious. He laces his fingers through hers as he enters her for the first time, her broken gasp in his ear almost too much for him. When she breaks around him and he follows her over the edge he whispers words of praise into her skin, tells her how perfect she is to him, and he hears her repeating it back to him as her lips press to the scar closest to the top of his chest.

Aaron thinks she has never looked so beautiful as she did when she was curled up against him in her bed, hair in disarray and a sleepy smile on her face. When he tells her as much she scrunches her nose at him and tells him he’s ridiculous, a hand sliding up his chest as he pulls her in and kisses her again.

He stops himself from telling her he loves her that night as she falls asleep in his arms. The promise of their next date being breakfast the following morning dying on her lips as she is lulled into sleep. ___________________________

Emily gets hurt on a case a month later, and it’s bad enough that she ends up in hospital. Dave calls him, and Aaron isn’t even sure how he knew to do so until he says Emily asked for him.

The case was mercifully close by, Aaron jumping in his car to do the two hour drive as soon as he’s off the phone with Dave. A note left for Jack saying what had happened, and a call to Jessica to ask her to look after the teenager that night.

He makes it to the hospital in 80 minutes. A vaguely amused looking Dave meets him at the front desk and tells him that she is fine, that she lost a fair amount of blood to the unsub’s knife and that they were keeping her in for observation overnight.

Aaron doesn’t believe him until he sets eyes on her himself, the door to her room clicking closed behind him. He briefly thinks about the team standing outside her room, the confusion on their faces at him being there, at what he was sure was fear on his face.

“Em, sweetheart.” The nickname slips out before he realises what he is saying, the first time he’s said it, and it makes her eyes brighten at him.

“Hi Aaron.” She tries to smile at him, but the pain lacing through her arm and shoulder means it doesn’t go far. She swallows against her dry throat and she holds out her good hand to him which he eagerly takes, any concerns about the team disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. “It looks worse than it is.”

He raises an eyebrow at her before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Me too.” She smiles up at him. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, Em.” Aaron smiles when she fails to suppress a yawn. “You should get some sleep.”

Emily frowns at him. “You only just got here.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He runs his hand over her forehead, pushing her hair out of the way. He can’t help but smile when her eyes flutter shut at the first touch of his skin to hers. He keeps the movement across her skin going, watching as her breathing evens out.

“I think I love you.” He whispers, sure she was fast asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by his thumb stroking over her forehead.

She laughs weakly and opens her eyes. “Oh, well I know I love you.”

Aaron leans down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “I love you.” Another kiss. “Now get some sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She closes her eyes, the painkillers in her system making her tired. “I hope you’ll always be there.”

Aaron smiles at the admission, something she would never have said out loud in normal circumstances. He runs his thumb over her forehead again.

“I’ll always be here, I promise.”

(It’s the only promise he ever breaks.)

#hotchniss #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #angst #major character death #fanfic #fanfiction #i am oddly proud of this #I made myself sad

[littlespaceporgs]

The Clone Wars Reacts - Part 3

Alternatively, Leah misses daddy Plo, gets annoyed by droids and is thoroughly entertained by Jar Jar Binks while simultaneously simping for Padme.

TA~DA! Welcome to part 3 of the reacts series, where we cover episodes 6, 7 and 8! I won’t lie to you, I actually found episode 6 really boring, 7 was less boring and 8 was maybe a little bit funny and I lowkey enjoyed it so much. So yeah, the first two reacts are kinda boring because I was super bored, but 8 is kinda funny. As usual, major spoilers for season 1 of the clone wars.

Part 1 - Episodes 1 and 2 Part 2 - Episodes 3, 4 and 5

So, lets do thissssss!

Tags (as always, let me know if you want a tag!): @acciokenobi​ @roseofalderaan​ @catsnkooks​ @peacelandbread​ @littlevodika​ @icedcoffeeandgays​ @captainrexstan​ @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky​ @mcu-padawan​ @onabouteverything​ @fractiouskat​

Episode 6: Downfall of a Droid

Notes: since writing these, I’ve discovered that I am 100% without a doubt very much a simp for Plo Koon and it shows.

> Pre-warning, I’m writing this on paper and on the train, so there may be slightly less thots thoughts in this one

> “Suffering serious defeats by Grievous”??????? All we’ve seen for 5 episodes now is Grievous lose????????

> Yeah Anakin! You should listen to Ahsoka!

>> (you need to trust my babey)

> Where the fuck is Plo when you need him? I WANNA SEE HIM

> Maybe that image will tide me over? (we all know it wont but that’s off topic)

> Oh for fucks sake I’ve had enough of Grievous

> YEAH R2, WE ALL KNOW YOURE THE ONLY REASON ANAKIN IS ALIVE!

> “this is too easy” oooohhhhh boy, you say that now......

*Grievous ditches his ship*

> ✨ disappointed, but not surprised ✨

> THERE IT IS!!!!! “I got a bad feeling about this” - bringing the total count so far to 2

> W H A T

>> R2D2?????????????????????????

>>> EXCUSE ME WTF?!?!?!?! DID THEY JUST - R2D2 NO!

> OBI WAN HOW DARE YOU R2D2 IS NOT REPLACEABLE

>> This is one of the few times I am more annoyed with Obi-wan than I am horny for him

>>> Wait no scratch that - i just looked at his face again 💖💖💖💖

> I miss Plo already, can he come back now?

> Oh Ahsoka, you’re so cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

> omg Goldie???? I LOVE IT he’s kinda adorable

> ooooohhh boy R2 is going to be on that dodgy ass ship isnt he?

> hahahahahahhahahahahhahahahahahahah

>> fart humour, i love it!

> Unique items, huh

> OH SHIT THATS THE TYPE OF DROID FROM THE MANDALORIAN

>> just thinking about the mandalorian reminds me of the new armour/helmet kink i discovered I had and how much i love pedro pascal

> Goddammit R3. oh shit oh shit bad droids BAD DROIDS

> is R2 just a really good droid? or do all of them make this many mistakes???

> hahahaha ‘gramps’, Ahsoka he’s literally only 5/6 years older than you

> *GASP* Anakin, he’s not a lightswitch!

> Oh shit, R2 was on the ship!

>> HA HA I WAS RIGHT

> fuck fuck Grievous no dont take R2 bad droid

> okay, I love obi-wan but he’s being a little harsh

>> mild turn-on but ok 👀👀

> aaaawwww the little stomping when he’s excited

> Do we get to see R2 do a mad escape?

>> WE DO!

> oh no, R2 you were so close

> tracking beacon?! R3, what’re you doing?!

> sorry anakin, they definitely saw it

> R3 WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THE HYPERDRIVE TOO?

> YEAH AHSOKA, YOU SAVE ANAKIN’S BUTT

> You, know, I’m starting to wonder if R3 is doing all this deliberately??

> lowkey, I want to tally the amount of droids grievous hurts/destroys

> well, i want R2 back in the next episode, please and thank you.

Episode 7: Duel of the Droids

> Okay, all I want is for Anakin to hurry up and find R2, because I want this arc to be over

> I’m going to keep this reacts fairly short because I’m a little bit bored

> All I want is more Plo content, is that too much to ask???????

>> If you can’t tell I have a thing for Plo Koon and I officially joined the simp club for him.

> This trandoshan guy is just.... bleh 🤢

* insert gross shiver* 

> YEAH R2 YOURE DOING SO WELL! HOLY SHIT GO R2D2!!!!

> I said it in part 1, and I’ll say it again, R2′s whirring is a mood

> Okay so fucking R3 just turned R2 down, so I am definitely starting to think this is deliberate?

>> HOLY FUCK I JUST REALISED A THING! DUEL OF THE DROIDS???????? R3 VS R2??????????????????

> ANAKIN IGNORE OBI-WAN LIKE USUAL, YOU GO AND SAVE R2 OK?!

> Rex’s expression when he’s told to carry R3 is comedy gold by the way

> Oh please Captain, kindly fuck me

> FUCK YEAH AHSOKA!

> *sighs* Oh the droid humour

> I mean, it is a type of head adjustment I guess 🤷‍♀️

> ...

>> Did you seriously think grievous, being the slimy bastard he is, wasn’t going to kill you?????

> OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT I WAS RIGHT FUCK R3 MAN

> AHSOKA KICK GRIEVOUS’ BIN CHICKEN LOOKI- oh no she was thrown into a wall, never-mind.

> R2 YES ZAP THAT GODDAMN DROID AND SAVE ANAKIN

> oh this is awkward, I love how R2 is insulted that he got R3 hahahahahahahha

> YES AHSOKA YOURE RIGHT, HE IS A STUBBY LITTLE BACKSTABER

> okay the most interesting point of this episode is ahsoka is escaping grievous

> OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT AGAIN?! R2 AND R3 ARE DUELLING!!!! I CAN SEE THE FUTURE OR SOME SHIT LIKE A JEDI

> THATS RIGHT BITCH R2D2 IS BETTER

> anakin looking out for R2 is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen

> ngl, i had a small degree of satisfaction when I saw R3 get smashed to bits

> “oh anakin... one day” obi-wan is a mood

> oh thank god its over, alright what’s up next?

Episode 8: Bombad Jedi

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH DOES THIS ONE HAVE JAR JAR IN IT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

> please tell me it has jar jar in it, then it will surely be funnier than the last 2 eps

> OH SHIT THIS EPISODE HAS PADME TOO IM SO HAPPY YAY

> oh in the white outfit too, i love this woman so much

> I’m going to put a photo hear so you can appreciate it too

> My horny bisexual senses are tingling

> HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHA IM ALREADY LAUGHING AT THE STUPID FROG

>> *for context he already fucked up once and we are 1 minute and 15 seconds into the episode

> she has a point though, C3PO does usually get into trouble

> oh boy, he sounds mad.... I’m getting a sinking feeling about this

> oh no

>> ah shit he’s gone and joined the separatists

> YOU DONT GET THE RIGHT TO CALL HER SWEET YOU TRAITOR

> I am much more entertained nonetheless by this episode

> wait so they fart insults???? it sounds like a fart and i giggled a little

> Oh and now jar jar’s trying to talk to them

> HAHAHAHAH C3 always gets shit thrown at him or shot at, whenever he’s in an episode I get a little bit happy 

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH ITS A FUCKING MAGNET OH C3 YOU POOR DROID

> why does he automatically jump to jar jar’s been killed oh my god so little faith like its a swamp planet???? and jar jar comes from a swamp planet????? of course he gone survive falling into water????

> buta mesa sav-ed you? i love this stupid creature oh my god hahahahaha

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THE JEDI CLOAK OMG

>> definitely 100% anakins, and I love the Padme has the equivalent of one of his hoodies

>>> I want one too

> ooooohhhh this is not going to go well

> oh boy

> I’m guessing this is where the bombad jedi comes from?

> DARTH JAR JAR

>> I am so sorry no its not mine, but I have no idea who’s it is

> wheresa jedi? OH MESA JEDI?

> have you guys seen zootopia? specifically where they trigger a ‘howl’ with the wolves??? Thats what I headcanon the droids are like with ‘roger roger’

> DAMN PADME THATS SOME MADASS CORE STRENGTH

>> crush me with those muscles please

> “There’s no jedi in here, wait there’s no prisoner in here!” hahahahahahahahah

> One day I’m going to have to do a little audio recording so you all know what sound I make whenever I’ve written hahahahahaha

> FUCK YEAH PADME SLAY THOSE DROIDS

> “I’m afraid the ship has been destroyed.” 

>> “Battle droids?” *shakes head*

>>> “... Jar Jar?”

>>>> “Jar Jar.”

> obviously Padme was right, she usually is

> oh boy Jar Jar is your only hope? you’re in for a shock buddy

> Padme is an excellent shot by the way

> OH MY GOD IT ATE HIM TO PROTECT HIM THATS SO SWEET

> “I think Jar Jar’s dead.” “Oh again?” goddamn it C3PO

> YEAH SLUG CREATURE THING GOOD JOB!

> ...

> excuse me????

> WHAT A FUCKING LEGEND HERE I WAS HATING ON UNCLE ANO WHEN HE IS STILL IN THE REPUBLIC

> okay he has my forgiveness now :))))))

alright, I enjoyed episode 8, 6 and 7 were a little lackluster, but I did like 8 a lot actually, more than I thought I would 

anyways, see you next time for 9, 10 and 11!! (I’m pretty sure I saw ventress and kit fisto in the title image, so be prepared for major ass thots because i am very heavily attracted to one (1) assassin and one (1) fish man)

#star wars #the clone wars #clone wars anakin #star wars the clone wars #tcw #tcw spoilers #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #jar jar binks #padme amidala #c3po #The Clone Wars Reacts #season 1 #anidala #r2d2 #r3s6 #kit fisto #captain rex #darth jar jar

[gagosiangallery]

Richard Prince at Gagosian Beverly Hills

January 15, 2020

RICHARD PRINCE New Portraits Opening reception: Thursday, February 6, 6–8pm February 6–March 21, 2020 456 North Camden Drive, Beverly Hills __________ In 1984 I took some portraits. The way I did it was different. The way had nothing to do with the tradition of portraiture. If you wanted me to do your portrait, you would give me at least five photographs that had already been taken of yourself, that were in your possession (you owned them, they were yours), and more importantly . . . that you were already happy with. You would give me the five you liked and I would pick the one I liked. I would rephotograph the one I liked and that would be your portrait. Simple. Direct. To the point . . . Foolproof. I started off doing friends. Peter Nadin. Anne Kennedy. Jeff Koons. Cookie Mueller. Gary Indiana. Colin de Land.

They didn’t have to sit for their portraits. They didn’t have to make an appointment and come over and sit in front of some cyclone or in front of a neutral background or on an artist’s stool. They didn’t have to show up at all. And they wouldn’t be disappointed with the result. How could they? It wasn’t like they were giving me photos of themselves that were embarrassing.

Social Science Fiction.

Another advantage was the “time line.” If you were in your sixties and you gave me a photograph that had been taken thirty years earlier, and that’s the one I chose, your portrait ended up in a kind of time machine. I couldn’t go forward, but I could go backward. Vanity. Most of the people I did liked the younger version of themselves. So the future didn’t really matter. Half of H. G. Wells was better than no half at all.

Who knew?

After friends, I did people I didn’t know.

I had access to Warner Bros. Records and their publicity files. The files were filled with 8 × 10 glossies of recording stars that they had under contract. How I had access is beside the point. It was a long time ago. Let’s just say an A&R guy gave me access, “permission.”

I spent time in their LA headquarters, in Burbank, and went thru the metal cabinets and took the “publicities” I wanted, took them home, put them in front of my camera, and made a new photograph. The first one I did was Dee Dee Ramone.

I did Tina Weymouth, Tom Verlaine, Jonathan Richman, Laurie Anderson. I did the two girls from the B-52s.

Not knowing these people, having never met them, or talked to them, but still being able to do their portraits, excited me. Satisfaction. I spent weeks in the basement of Warner Bros. I thought I had an advantage. My method, if you could call it that, was far more flexible than the regular way portraits were taken. I didn’t need a studio. A darkroom. A receptionist. A calendar. Makeup. Stylists. I didn’t have to deal with agents or the “personality,” good or bad, of the sitter. My overhead was minimal and I could do the portrait all by myself.

By myself. That was the best.

Why I Go To The Movies Alone.

At first I thought this could be a business.

Up till then none of the art that I was making sold . . . or sold enough to make a living. I had just quit my job at Time Life the year before and was trying to make a go of it living near Venice Beach in LA . . . sharing a house with three roommates and living off the occasional sales that Hudson, my friend from Chicago, would make selling my “cartoon” drawings.

This idea of a “portrait business” made sense to me. Who wouldn’t want their portrait done this way?

I continued to do friends. Paula Greif. Dike Blair. Meyer Vaisman. I did everybody’s portraits for Wild History, a book that I put together for Tanam Press of downtown writing. The author’s portrait accompanied their contribution. Wharton Tiers. Spalding Gray. Tina L’Hotsky.

By the end of ’84 it was over.

I’m not sure if it was the lack of interest in me, or in others. (My energy evaporated.) Maybe it was the inability to convince people to commit to a commission. It was a good idea, but after doing about forty of them, I put them in a drawer and moved on. Bored? Restless? I don’t know. Let’s just say it didn’t take off.

Leave it at that.

My cartoon drawings turned into jokes and the jokes started taking up everything. In the end, I think most people would rather have their portrait done by Robert Mapplethorpe.

Thirty years. Time passes.

The social network.

I looked over my daughter’s shoulder and saw that she was scrolling thru pictures on her phone. I asked her what she was looking at. “It’s my Tumblr.” “What’s a tumbler?” I asked.

That was . . . four years ago?

About three years ago I bought an iPhone. Someone had shown me the photographs you could take with the phone. I had given up taking pictures after they got rid of color slide film. I tried digital, but couldn’t make the adjustment. I never liked carrying a camera and was pretty much inkjetting and painting anyway . . . so the idea of using a big boxy camera with all its new whistles and bows wasn’t for me.

Enter the sandman.

The iPhone was just what I needed. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to point and shoot. You didn’t have to focus. You didn’t have to load film. You didn’t have to ASA. You didn’t have to set a speed. The clarity . . .

I could see for miles.

The photos you took were stored in the phone. And when you wanted to see them, they appeared on a grid. The best part: you could send a photo immediately to a friend, to an e-mail, to a printer . . . or, you could organize your photos, like my daughter had, and post them publicly or privately.

When worlds collide.

I asked my daughter more about Tumblr. Are those your photos? Where did you get that one? Did you need permission? How did you get that kind of crop? You can delete them? Really? What about these “followers?” Who are they? Are they people you know? What if you don’t want to share? How many of your friends have Tumblrs?

What’s yours is mine.

My daughter’s “grid” on Tumblr reminded me of my Gangs I did back in ’85 . . . where I organized a set of nine images on a single piece of photo paper and blew the paper up to 86 × 48. The gangs were a way to deal with marginal or subsets of lifestyles that I needed to see on a wall but not a whole wall. Each gang was its own exhibition. Girlfriends, Heavy Metal Bands, Giant Waves, Bigfoot Trucks, Sex, War, Cartoons, Lyrics . . . were all rephotographed with slide film, and when the slides returned, they were “deejayed” and moved around on a custom-made light box until the best nine made the cut. The “cut” was then taped together (the edges of the slide mounts were pushed up against each other and Scotch-taped), the nine taped slides were sent to a lab where an 8 × 10 internegative was made, and from the internegative the final photo was blown up. I’ve probably lost you. Technical stuff . . . application and technique. Sometimes it’s better to leave the “background” out of it. Better to “take it for granted.” Why should I care how a photograph is made?

Only sometimes.

How was it called back then? Sampling?

Primitive now, but back then . . . 50-inch photo drums were few and far between. The paper was 50 inches wide and came in a huge roll. If you wanted to, you could take a roll and roll it down the street, roll it down the sidewalk, roll it all the way down the West Side Highway.

Shakespeare’s in the alley?

No. Philip Roth is in the alley.

Joan Didion is in the alley.

Don DeLillo is in the alley.

What’s up, pussycat?

There’s a lot of cats on Instagram. Food too.

And there’s tons of photos of people who take photographs of themselves. (Yes, I know the word.)

On the gram. I was just asked why I like Instagram. I said, “Because there’s rules. And if you break the rules, you get kicked off.”

I got to Instagram thru Twitter.

Twitter first.

I’m not sure when I first started tweeting, but I liked trying to fit a whole story into 140 characters.

I call it Birdtalk.

I used to bird in the early ’90s for Purple magazine and birded in my first catalogue for Barbara Gladstone in ’87.

Short sentences that were funny, sweet, dumb, profound, absurd, stupid, jokey, Finnegans Wake meets MAD magazine meets ad copy for Calvin Klein. Think Dylan’s Tarantula. Then think some more and think Kathy Acker’s Tarantula.

Or, don’t think at all. I know I don’t.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I write down the first sentence that starts off my favorite novel.

Relative. I’m not much of a theory guy. But sometimes I think there was a reason why Einstein was a technical assistant in the Swiss patent office.

Let me fill your cup.

Twitter accepts photos, but is mainly text-based. I like to combine the two and tweet both photo and text.

I called the photo/text tweets I was posting . . . “The Family.”

I posted photos of my extended family . . . mother, brother, sister, nieces, cousins, uncles, aunts, in-laws, stepchildren, boy- and girlfriends. I would caption the photos with a short description of who, what, why . . . measuring my words so that they fit into the guidelines of the platform.

After posting the photo/text, I sent the information to my printer and inkjetted an 11 × 14 print of the marriage. I made thirty-eight “Family” tweets.

Distribution.

I placed each “Family” tweet in a plastic sleeve and pushpinned the sleeve to the wall. The wall was at Karma. I put all thirty-eight up. Salon style. It was Saturday. The doors opened at 12 pm. By 12:15 pm all thirty-seven were gone. One to a customer. I kept the one that had my father, mother, and sister in it. (My father and mother were naked, and my sister was sitting in between. My family wasn’t like yours. Hobnob doesn’t begin to describe them.) I sold the “Family Tweets” for $12 each. First come, first served.

Well, well, well . . .

In ma ma ma my wheeeeeeeel house.

I used to stutter. By the ninth grade, the sparkle was in my eye. It got so bad, the impediment turned me into a clam. I slept all day, every day. I wouldn’t get up until Sunday. I waited for Bonanza to come on the TV. I loved the cowboy father and his three sons.

Two summers ago, my niece was working for me out on Long Island and she showed me how to screen save. I didn’t know about the option. What other options don’t I know about?

Screen Save.

This might be one of the best applications in an apparatus that I’ve ever encountered. All-time. Hall of fame. First place. Just what I need. MORE photographs.

Hey kids . . . what time is it?

Now I have a theory.

I was beside myself.

Congratulations.

This past spring, and half the summer, the iPhone became my studio. I signed up for Instagram. I pushed things aside. I made room. It was easy. I ignored Tumblr, and Facebook had never interested me. But Instagram . . .

I started off being RichardPrince4.

I quickly recognized the device was a way to get the lead out. If Twitter was editorial . . . then Instagram was advertising.

A gazillion people.

Besides cats, dogs, and food, people put out photos of themselves and their friends all the time, every day, and, yes, some people put themselves out twice on Mondays. I started “following” people I knew, people I didn’t know, and people who knew each other. It was innocent. I was on the phone talking to Jessica Hart and had just looked at her “gram” feed before picking up the phone. I asked about a picture she posted of herself standing in front of a fireplace wearing what looked to be ski clothes and big fur boots. The post was in black and white, head to toe, full figure, and behind her, above the mantel, there was a portrait of Brigitte Bardot. I told her someone should make a portrait out of this photo. She said, “Why don’t you?”

Come to think of it.

I’m not sure if she knew about my Family Tweets. She might have. I think we even talked about them after she came to my studio for a visit. After I got off the phone, I thought about her suggestion: “Why don’t you?”

I went back to her feed and screen saved her “winter” photo. I sent the save to my computer, pressed “empty subject,” pressed “actual size,” and waited for it to appear in a doc, checked the margins and crop, clicked on the doc, and sent it to my printer. My inkjet printer printed out an 11 × 14-inch photo on paper . . . I took the photo out of the tray and put it on my desk.

Looking at Jessica’s feed reminded me of 1984. Except this time I had more than five photos to choose from. I went back to her feed a second time. I scrolled thru maybe a hundred photos she had posted and looked at all the ones that included her. The one in front of the fireplace was still the best.

Walk on.

Jessica had tons of followers. Thousands. And a lot of them had “commented” on what she posted. I read all the comments that had been posted under her fireplace photo. There was one comment I wish I could have gotten in my original screen save. When you screen save an Instagram image, you can get maybe three, four comments in the save if you include the person’s “profile” icon that appears on the upper left of the page. I decided early on I wanted the person’s icon to be part of the save. But what else could I save?

I went back to my desk and kept staring at the printout of Jessica. What do I do now?

I didn’t want to paint it.

I didn’t want to mark it.

I didn’t want to add a sticker.

Whatever I did, I wanted it to happen INSIDE and before the save. I wanted my contribution to be part of the “gram.” I didn’t want to do anything physical to the photograph after it was printed.

Five cents.

I went back to the comment.

I commented on Jessica’s photo in front of the fireplace, but my comment was one of hundreds and showed up outside, way down at the bottom . . . out of the frame.

If I wanted my comment to show up near her picture . . . how?

I got lucky.

I’m terrible when it comes to the tech side of technology. But somehow I figured out how to hack into Jessica’s feed and swipe away all her comments and add my own so that it would appear under her post. The hack is pretty simple and anyone can do it. You hit the gray comment bar and pick a comment you don’t want and swipe with your finger to the left, and a red exclamation mark appears. You press on the exclamation mark and four things come onto the bottom of your screen.

1. Why are you reporting this comment?

2. Spam or Scam

3. Abusive Content

4. Cancel

To get rid of the comment, you click on Spam or Scam. It’s gone. Just like that I could control other people’s comments and Jessica’s own comments. And the comment that I added could now be near enough to Jessica’s photo that when I screen saved it, my comment would “show up.” Make sense? It’s about as good as I can do. What can I say? Einstein and cuckoo . . .

So now . . .

So now I was in.

Waiting to follow.

Richardprince4 would appear at the bottom of Jessica’s final portrait. My comment, whatever it would be, would always be the last comment. The last say so. Say so. That’s good. That could work. My “in” was what I ended up saying. And what I would say would be everything I ever knew . . . what I knew now and what I would know in the future.

Tell Me Everything.

Finnegans Wake meets MAD magazine.

Zoot Horn Rollo. You seem to be where I belong (emoji).

The first three portraits I did were of women I knew. Or almost knew. Jessica, I knew. Pam Anderson, I knew. Sky Ferreira? I didn’t know, but was following her and had been reading about her new album and seeing posters of her album broadsided on sheets of ply on the Bowery and on Lafayette near Bond. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or why I chose these three. I just had lunch with Pam and had seen Jessica in LA. Sky, I was following because she seemed interesting. There was nothing more. No attraction. No fan. No desire. No date. No wanting anything from her. And the pictures she posted were candid, boozy, and seemed to be letting the viewer in on some kind of backstage diary. She also had thousands of people following her, and I could tap into her followers and follow them. I can do that? I didn’t even know I could follow the followers. Like I said, the hardware was all new . . . and I was just getting started.

The shoreline is never the same. (Like it should be.)

When I first started getting rid of comments, I thought the person whose comments I was getting rid of might get pissed. “What happened to all my comments?” I found out quickly that “the getting rid of” only affected my feed. The deleted comments didn’t affect the followers’ feeds. Their comments were still there even though they were gone from mine. All that happened is that MY comment showed up below their photo. Was I allowed? Yes. I guess so. It’s hard to explain. But the process is open, and at the moment, it’s the way it works and anyone and everyone can do it.

The language I started using to make “comments” was based on Birdtalk. Non sequitur. Gobbledygook. Jokes. Oxymorons. “Psychic Jujitsu.”

Some of the language came directly from TV. If I’m selecting a photo of someone and adding a comment to their gram and an advertisement comes on . . . I use the language that I hear in the ad. Inferior language. It works. It sounds like it means something. What’s it mean? I don’t know. Does it have to mean anything at all? I think about James Joyce confessing to Nora Barnacle. I think about opening up to page 323 of Finnegans Wake. Then I think about notes and lyricism. Policy. Whisper. Murmurs. Mantra. Quotation. Advice.

Chamber Music.

Didn’t Duke Ellington say, “If it sounds good, it is good”? He did say that, didn’t he?

Who are these people?

Larry Clark, Diane Arbus, Robert Mapplethorpe take great portraits. I’ve watched Larry take photos and I don’t know how he does it. I wouldn’t know where to begin. I could never go up to a stranger and ask them if I could take their picture. I’ve done it maybe two or three times and didn’t enjoy it. That part of art is in Larry. It isn’t in me. I feel more comfortable in my bedroom looking thru Easyriders and poring over pictures of “girlfriends” that are right there on the page. Page after page. Looking. Wondering. Anticipating. Hoping. What will be on the next page? Will I find a girlfriend that I really like? That’s my relationship with what’s out there. It’s as close as I want to get. That’s what’s in me.

IG is a bedroom magazine.

I can start out with someone I know and then check out who they follow or who’s following them, and the rabbit hole takes on an out-of-body experience where you suddenly look at the clock and it’s three in the morning. I end up on people’s grids that are so far removed from where I began, it feels psychedelic. Further. I’m on the bus. I feel like I’m part of Kesey’s merry tribe. I’m reminded of Timothy Leary’s journals, which I purchased years ago from John McWhinnie, and the concentration that came over me when I discovered his hand-drawn map of his escape from jail. How he literally shimmied on a wire that had been strung up from an outer utility building to the perimeter prison wall . . . and how I would trace with my finger his overland express to Tangier, where he hooked up with Black Panther Eldridge Cleaver and spent the next year seeking asylum in different parts of North Africa, ultimately ending up in Switzerland where his ex-wife ratted him out, and how fighting extradition took up the rest of his life. Wow, now it’s four in the morning.

Tune In, Turn On, Come Out.

“Trolling.”

If you say so.

I never thought about it that way. The word has been used to describe part of the process of making my new portraits. I guess so. It’s not like I’m on the back of a boat throwing out chum.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat.”

Included.

Everyone is fair.

Game.

An even playing field.

“Outside my cabin door. Said the girl from the red river shore.”

Men. Women. Men and women. Men and men. Women and women. Blacks Whites Latinos Asian Arabs Jews Straights Gays Transgender. Tattoos and scars. Hairy.

I don’t really know the score.

The ones I adore.

I just know where I belong.

“Oh, there I go. From a man to a memory.”

How do I tell you who or why I pick? I can’t. It would be like telling you why I pick that joke. WHY THAT ONE? There’s thousands of jokes. I read them all. It takes days to read just one joke book. 101 of the World’s Funniest Jokes. Days. If I get one, find one, like one, out of the 101, it’s a good day.

People on IG lead me to other people. I spend hours surfing, saving, and deleting. Sometimes I look for photos that are straightforward portraits (or at least look straightforward). Other times I look for photos that would only appear, or better still . . . exist on IG. Photos that look the way they do because they’re on the gram. Selfies? Not really. Self-portraits. I’m not interested in abbreviation. I look for portraits that are upside down, sideways, at arm’s length, taken within the space that a body can hold a camera phone. What did de Kooning say? “When I spread my arms out, it’s all the space I need.”

At first I wasn’t sure how to print the portrait. I tried different surfaces, different papers. Presentation? Frame? Matt? Shadowbox? I tried them all. Finally this past spring my lab introduced me to a new canvas, one that was tightly wound, a surface with hardly any tooth. Smooth to the touch. Almost as if the canvas were photo paper. It was also brilliantly white. I don’t think it could be any whiter. And . . . the way the ink jetted into the canvas was a surprise. It fused in a way that made the image slightly out of focus. Just enough. The ink was IN and ON the canvas at the same time. When I first saw the final result, I didn’t really know what I was looking at. A photographic work or a work on canvas? The surprise was perfect. Perfect doesn’t come along very often. The color that had been transferred from the file of the computer to the jet, from jet to canvas, was intense, saturated, rich. If someone I followed had blue hair, their hair looked like it had been dyed directly onto the canvas. Dye job. Rinsed. Beauty salon. It was brilliant, great color. You might call it “vibrant.” The vibe between the image and the process was “sent away for,” seamless, effortless . . . all descriptions I used to use when I tried describing my early “pens, watches, and cowboys.” (Has it really been forty years?) The ingredients, the recipe, “the manufacture,” whatever you want to call it . . . was familiar but had changed into something I had never seen before. I wasn’t sure it even looked like art. And that was the best part. Not looking like art. The new portraits were in that gray area. Undefined. In-between. They had no history, no past, no name. A life of their own. They’ll learn. They’ll find their own way. I have no responsibility. They do. Friendly monsters.

Speak for yourself.

To fit in the world takes time.

For now, all I can say is . . . they’re the only thing I’ve ever done that has made me happy.

http://www.richardprince.com/writings/bird-talk

Close

#Richard Prince #Gagosian

[askiisoft]

FAN ART FRIDAY: ALL THE WARRIORS, Part 2

And to think I was planning to fit all of the OCs into one week...yeah, not happening. With 50+ entries and counting, I’ll be lucky to fit them all into four parts.

Welcome back to Part 2 of “All The Warriors”, a multi-week showcase of the Katana ZERO community’s awesome fan characters! The volume of submissions for this event has been mind-blowing, to the point where I’ve had to create a dedicated Excel spreadsheet to keep track of them all. If you haven’t submitted your character yet, there’s still one week left! If you have, rest assured that it’ll will be included eventually, so please be patient! 

For those who missed it, don’t forget to check out Part 1 of this series.

[WARNING: The work herein is based on fan creations, and should not be considered canon.]

Alpha 13, “Believer” by @DokusatsuMurXer

What is the loneliest number? ‘One’, you say? Nope, it’s 13...Alpha 13, that is.

Being one of the first Alpha-series NULL, it’s likely that Thirteen joined purely out of adoration for the illusive “Great Scientist”—a noble cause compared to the violent psychosis that defined the later Gamma-series NULL. While it’s clear he’s taken lives in service of his one-sided infatuation, it’s hard not to see him as another victim, still pining for his senpai’s attention even after everyone’s graduated and moved away years ago. Why do we always love the one who will hurt us the most? 

According to @DokusatsuMurXer’s, the drunken swirls in his Post-war portrait are hiding something much steamier. I can only imagine.

Please, senpai. By @DokusatsuMurXer

—

Beta 6, “Blade” by @Khwany_kawawii

In the Third District, there’s only two ways to get what you need: by coercion, or by force. Beta 6 opts for both, and seems to have a reputation on par with The Dragon amongst hapless goons. Ironically, it seems amnesiac NULL like Blade or Zero are the ones who kept going on killing sprees after the war, instead of throwing in with criminal syndicates or settling into an ordinary day job.

Her giant curtain of hair, while a bit ridiculous-looking standing still, would certainly add a sense of dynamism as she flipped and pirouetted in midair, tossing knives left and right. Also, knives.

“With no drugs, I will die. But with the drugs...I am the Killing Angel.” By @Khwany_kawawii

—

Ema by @Khwany_kawawii

Well, would you look at that. Not only is Ema our first non-NULL OC, but also the first...*drum roll*...Cromag! That’s right—as a child, Ema barely survived a NULL attack that killed her family, and she’s dedicated her life to finding whoever was responsible ever since. 

The concept of a private eye in Katana ZERO’s neo-noir metropolis, especially one who suffers from such intense trauma and racial discrimination, has fantastic plot potential. What if she finds the NULL who orphaned her, but they don’t remember it? What if they have to team up? I can’t help but wonder how long an average woman (bionic arm aside) could survive in this dark underbelly of drugged-up super-soldiers...

—

Gamma 4 by @camellia_066

Not every hero dies on a battlefield.

Being a commander means taking responsibility for those under your command. For some that extends beyond wartime, and especially so after the one-way process of becoming NULL; while an Alpha could skip doses of Chronos with nothing more than a nosebleed, a Gamma might require twice the dosage just to stay lucid. 

Maybe the weight of New Mecca’s defeat was too much for him to bear. Maybe he knew that a cure for Chronos was a pipedream. But it was better to die for the slim chance of salvation than witness his former comrades slaughter one another for just another dose. 

—

Gamma 12 by @wqwrppwu

So this is who’s been stealing my Uber Eats.

The idea of a Gamma-level NULL—especially one as devious-looking as Gamma 12—working as a pizza guy is hilarious to me. I have a soft spot for features like thin noses, wild eyes, and razor teeth that just scream “bad guy, stay away”. Most other NULL would just kill the cashier and take what they want, but Twelve uses his powers to steal booze and cigarettes and get away with it, every time. 

It makes sense that he’d be best friends with Alpha 25, “Pomidor” (see Part 1)  thanks to their mutual eccentricity and love of mayhem. 

Camaraderie at work. By @wqwrppwu

—

Gamma 5 by twink-182

Beta 6 had better be a wizard to claim the nickname “Blade”, given how many Gamma-level knife experts roam the city’s underbelly. Once part of Fifteen’s circle of former NULL, Gamma 5 evidently saw the writing on the wall and decided to leave before his comrade’s vendetta drew him deeper into danger. Otherwise, who knows, we might have had a quick, teleporting knife-thrower heckling us throughout the Headhunter boss fight...yeah, maybe it’s for the best that he’s M.I.A.

I’m guessing the photo and red string is just another point on Fifteen’s byzantine conspiracy board; I hope we get to see the whole thing one day.

—

Alpha 4 by @kym0433

As with any conflict, the end of Cromag War produced massive windfalls for organized crime in terms of illegal weapons, war drugs, and super-soldiers thirsty for Chronos. Luckily for Alpha 4, the Chinese had carved out their own niche in New Mecca’s Chinatown, and they offered him a steady supply of "ke le nuo si”, as they called it, plus a cushy job as a bodyguard; after all, who would dare to start trouble on their turf? Who, but a certain samurai who walked up to the roulette table one day...

While Ted might not be the strongest NULL, he leads the pack in terms of fashion. No musty olive fatigues for this killer—whether it’s a traditional patterned chengshan or tasseled shawl, Ted makes it look awesome. No one would even suspect he’s hiding weapons under there! 

By @kym0433

—

Beta 24, “Cecil” by @Tacoyaki86

Contrary to popular belief, the inability to feel pain is not a superpower, especially when paired with a military specialization as hazardous as demolitions and bomb disposal. Imagine not realizing your hands got blown off until you reached for a sip of coffee. That, and you’d be stone deaf from constant close-range explosions and minigun fire.

Knowing that, I can understand Beta 24′s desire to spend a quiet veterancy at a manga café, where the otaku don’t want to chat anyway and the biggest risks are coffee burns and paper cuts. 

Also, is that chevron on his beret the same as Headhunter’s? That must indicate rank, or possibly explosives experts. Given Headhunter’s propensity for sticky mines and suicide vests, I’d believe it.

“Detonation successful!” By @Tacoyaki86

—

Gamma 767, “Retana” by @TailWood

Given how many NULL prefer close-range weapons like knives, swords, and bludgeons, having to fire artillery from kilometers away must seem like a crushing indignity for a Gamma like 767: slowing time just means it takes longer for his rockets to hit their targets, and he can’t even collect any trophies to show off to the guys at the bar once they’re off-duty! But hey, someone’s got to do it; I don’t think even the sharpest steel would do much against a tank...

By @TailWood

—

Gamma 9, “Nara” by @couriervictor

Sadism and sharp objects don’t pair well together. It was never explained why Headhunter chose to wear her old uniform everywhere, but in Gamma 9′s case it’s pretty clear: he’s an elite, and he wants you to know it. Lack of physical strength doesn’t matter, since everyone in Katana ZERO died in one hit anyway, and his affinity for throwing knives reminds me of Biker’s levels from Hotline Miami. More knives.

—

Alpha 35, “Sako” by @matsumatsu_kou

For a Gamma NULL, overcoming a debilitating wound is as simple as using their powers to ‘reset’ and try again until they can win the battle without a single scratch. Sadly, that wasn’t an option for their lesser Alpha brethren, as evidenced by Alpha 35. 

There have been known cases of NULL choosing to retain scars and other superficial injuries as badges of honor, but if there’s a reason why Sako chooses to fight with a blind eye and busted arm, it’s beyond me. However, if Proto-15 is anything to go by, battle damage is a huge plus for you ferals out there, and it gives him an extra place to store those KNIVES. *snickt*

By @matsumatsu_kou

—

Beta 74 by @cheezysucks

“Take everything from a man but his weapon, and do not judge him thereafter.”

Even in the far-flung future of New Mecca, it seems PTSD still haunts soldiers returning from conflict, even those as exceptional as NULL—if a near-death experience is harrowing, imagine the trauma of countless actual deaths, each instance being dragged backwards in time to start over.

Still, as far as ex-NULL go, Beta 74 chose as honest a job as his ilk can manage, given their stigma abroad. And oh, wow, is he wearing a pair of those funky four-eyed night-vision goggles? Look them up, they’re real, and just as absurd-looking.

—

Gamma 5, “Heatseeker” by 6at

Pour one out for another fallen warrior, Gamma 5 (yes, I know there was already a Gamma 5 earlier, won’t be the last time this happens). Five seems more like a tactical fire commander than your average NULL, with actual combat armor and a bubble helmet seemingly inspired by early concept versions of Headhunter’s gear, replete with a digitized HUD; pretty slick-looking, I must say.

Knowing how far far New Mecca went to cover up the NULL program, I’m surprised they let Five live as long as they did, though his hermetic lifestyle likely made him a minimal risk. I’m guessing he was terminated around the same time the government halted the production of Chronos. Coincidence? 

Seems like ‘Heatseeker’ attracted a bit too much heat, heh heh.

—

And that was Part 2 of our Katana ZERO OC event. Is your finger tired from scrolling yet? Not as much as mine...

Click here to read ‘Part 3: Was Going To Be The Finale But I’m Drowning’. Thanks immensely to every single artist who’s submitted their characters and expanded the world of Katana ZERO just a bit more!

By @wqwrppwu

#askiisoft #Devolver Digital #fan art #fan art friday #original character #do #not #steal #katanazero #katana zero

[lola--james]

Moving In (Future AU) | | Lollie

characters: lola fields & ollie james date: indeterminate date location: Lola’s apartment nb: Lola and Ollie’s relationship moves in a more serious direction.

@shitollie

Ollie and Lola had just gotten back in from a relaxing night hanging out; going out for dinner and a movie as a means to just simply get out of the apartment. He had planned on spending the night with his girlfriend, part of it being that he wanted to spend more time with her, and part of it being that he was simply just too lazy and comfortable to get back up and drive. Laying in her bed, he scrolled through his phone, checking his social media and watching many Tik Tok's. Hearing her footsteps approach, his eyes peering away from his phone to look up at the brunette. "There you are. I thought you disappeared for a second." he lightly joked, grabbing her hand and pulling her onto the bed towards him.

Lola felt like her relationship with Ollie was going from strength to strength. They had weathered the storm of anonymous messages and people trying to meddle in their relationship, coming out of the drama stronger than ever before; and although it had been stressful, it had only made her more certain that Ollie was the person that she wanted to be with. She had been thinking for a while now that she wanted to take the next step in their relationship and when she walked into their bedroom to find Ollie lying in her bed, idly scrolling social media, her mind was made up. It looked like he belonged there and she found herself smiling warmly as he pulled her onto the bed to join him. "Don't worry, you didn't get rid of me that easily. I just went to get you something from the kitchen, it's just a little gift I organized about a week ago", she explained. She was slightly nervous as she passed him a shiny silver key, a copy of the one required to let him in and out of her apartment.

Ollie finally felt as though the two were in a good place in their relationship. Not only that, but Ollie was happy and content with his life. He had been able to better manage everything, and he knew better than to listen to all of those anonymous messages he had been receiving, and are still receiving. He knew that the trolls would never really go away, but he was just glad that him and Lola were able to make it through in one piece, considering how fairly new their relationship had been back then. He pulled her into his arms, looking down as she handed him what seemed to be a key to her apartment. He took the small object into his hand, fiddling with it as he continued to look at it, trying to process what was exactly happening. "Are you trying to tell me something?" he asked, nearly oblivious to what was going on.

Lola felt her anxiety spike as Ollie fiddled with the key in his hand, questioning what it meant. She felt like they were ready for this next step in their relationship but she also knew that Ollie could sometimes be a little wary of that kind of commitment as it wasn't necessarily something that came easy to him. "It can mean whatever you want it to mean, love", Lola was quick to explain. "We've been together for a while now and I thought it was time that you had a key to my apartment. You can use it if you want or you can pretend that I never gave it to you if it's too much", she rambled. In an ideal world, she would love for Ollie to move in with her but she didn't want to risk messing with their relationship by suggesting something he wasn't ready for. It just made sense to her -- he spent most of his time at her apartment anyway and they always seemed at their happiest when they were together.

Ollie looked down at her, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion by her statement. "I don't think you want me to pretend like you never gave this to me, because if that was the case you wouldn't have done it at all." he pointed out simply, his voice soft as the two spoke. He had somewhat of an idea as to what she was trying to imply by the small gift, but at the same time he wanted to make sure before he got too ahead of himself. "What do /you/ want this to mean?" he asked, the tone of his voice remaining the same. He wanted this to be a conversation they had, and he wanted this to be a decision that they both felt comfortable with - whatever that decision may be.

Lola fiddled nervously with one of the rings she was wearing today. Ollie's questions were simple but the neutral expression on his face made it hard to gauge what he was thinking -- if she backtracked and pretended that it wasn't a serious gift, he could be offended; but if she expressed her preferred intention, she could terrify him. She weighed up her options for a few moments before deciding that she would just be honest. "You're right. I'm just nervous and it was easier to deflect than acknowledge that I just gave you a key to my apartment", she admitted. "Honestly, I would love it if you moved in. You spend most of your time here anyway and I like having you here when I fall asleep; and when I wake up in the morning. I know that you might think that it's too soon, though; so I would also be happy if the key was just a key and you felt comfortable coming and going whenever you please".

Ollie burst out into laughter at her facial expression, clearing showing that she hadn’t been expecting for him to say no. “Wow, I’ve really gotten you used to me caving all the time.” He observed out loud through his laughter. “It’s just photos of eight year old me with glasses. You’re not missing much.” He teased lightly. “I’d have you handcuffed so you wouldn’t be able to touch anything, just enjoy all of it. I wonder how many times I can make you cum just doing this alone.” He added, his voice low as his lips continued to make their way down the base of her neck. “I’ve discovered new willpower to resist you. I can last much longer than 15 minutes now.” He stated proudly, chuckling at their small banter. “So I shouldn’t stop with the mind blowing, claiming, sex?” He asked, just making sure they were on the same page. “I can tell you first hand that you are not terrible, but we don’t have to ever do it if you don’t want to.” He assured, knowing that it wouldn’t be as enjoyable for him if it wasn’t the same for her. He continued to follow her throughout the apartment, a wicked smirk on his face the entire time. “What do /you/ want to do right now?”

Lola playfully narrowed her eyes at him when he laughed at her. “I’m used to the puppy dog eyes and bribery working with /everyone/, not just you! I can’t believe that didn’t work”, Lola admitted. “If it’s just eight year old you with glasses, why can’t I see the photos? It’s not some state secret”, she quipped. “You’re going to be the death of me, Ollie James. How am I this turned on already over just a few words? You have no idea how much I want this”, she admitted. “I think I’m offended! I liked knowing that it was so irresistible that you couldn’t wait”, she jokingly complained. “Definitely not. I... I think I’ve cum harder than ever before because of it”. Her cheeks were slightly flushed at the admission, knowing that Ollie would probably take great pride at that admission and tease her about it. “No, I want to try. I don’t want to let a little bit of anxiety get in the way of something that could be really fucking hot”, she told him. “I want you to fuck me”, she said simply. “I want the kind of rough, possessive sex that we’ve just been talking about”.

Ollie continued to laugh at how shocked she seemed to be. "I know you better than you think. But the puppy dog eyes are almost as adorable as your dimples." he smiled, poking one of her dimples in attempts to get her to smile. "You don't understand. This is eight year old geeky Ollie who was obsessed with planes and trains, and couldn't catch a football to save his life. That Ollie should not be seen, no matter how cute he was. Maybe on our anniversary, if I'm feeling generous." he lightly teased. Ollie brought his hand down in between their bodies, using a finger to gently stroke her most sensitive area over her underwear. He groaned quietly as he felt just how turned on she'd been before pulling his hand away. "This is definitely going to happen." he said in a promise, knowing very well that the thought was going to continue to be on his mind until her fantasy became into reality. "You are irresistible, but it's kind of fun teasing you sexually. Getting you all worked up until you're practically begging for more. "Like that time at the beach house?" he asked with a prideful smile, reminiscing on the past memory from just months prior. "I wouldn't be comfortable doing it unless if you're one hundred percent comfortable. This works both ways." he mentioned, wanting her to know that it really was okay if she didn't want to do it. His head tilted slight, brows furrowing in both surprise and shock at how forward she had been in the moment. He appreciated her straightforwardness, finding it quite attractive. "Do you?" he asked, slowly walking towards his girlfriend, gently pushing her against the nearest wall. "You mean the kind where I bend you over and fuck you until your legs nearly give out? Where I pull your hair and mark you so that you have a reminder for days after; where you're screaming my name as if I'm the only person that exist?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper, his lips barely touching hers.

Lola sighed dramatically when he just laughed at her and still refused to cave. "But not adorable enough to win you over", Lola complained, although her words were undermined by the grin that stretched across her face when he poked one of her dimples. "Okay I really hate that it's come to this but if nudes aren't going to work as a bartering tool, I think I might have another photo that you might be interested in. It's literally the only family photo that I have and I must be about five... I'm talking bangs and my mom had let me play with her stage makeup, which was a terrible parenting decision. You'd be the only person alive that's seen the photo. That's got to be worth a photo trade", she tried a different approach. She was glad that she had worn a dress today as it allowed Ollie to reach between their bodies to touch her over her underwear, a quiet moan falling from her lips in response to the touch. "Just don't tell me when, okay? The surprise is part of the appeal", she told him. "I feel like that's one of your biggest turn-ons, when I'm practically dripping wet and begging for more", she commented, knowing that what she said was true. "Like the beach house", she confirmed. "I know this is probably going to swell your ego and I'll probably regret admitting it but the pleasure that you give me... god, it's on a whole other level compared to my other experiences", she admitted. "I definitely want to try it. I especially like the idea of you watching it back and touching yourself". She moaned quietly when he gently pushed her against the nearest wall, knowing full well that Ollie was going to eventually give her exactly what she wanted. "That's exactly what I want", she confirmed, her breathing already slightly ragged. "I... I don't want you to let me cum until you decide that I'm ready to, when I'm begging you to let me finish". Allowing Ollie to be in charge of when she came just added to the fantasy of the kind of rough, possessive sex that they were talking about right now.

Ollie placed a gentle kiss on the others lips. “You already won me over.” He mentioned, his voice somewhat serious now. He remained silent for a few moneys as if he was seriously contemplating her offer, although he already knew that he was going to cave. “I don’t think that’s an offer I can refuse. Deal.” He smiled brightly up at her, giving her his right hand to seal the deal. Placing kisses onto her neck, Ollie simply hummed in response to her observation. “It is. You have no idea what it does to me to see you lose control like that. I love how well your body responds to me, how I’m able to get you to that point.” He stated simply, his voice low as he placed his hands on her hips, pushing her down slightly so she could feel some of him. “Wait, is this you admitting that I’m the best you’ve ever had? Hold on, I think I need this to be voice recorded.” Joking around with her, Ollie reaches over to grab his phone, letting out another laugh before putting it back down. “Well, I already touch myself thinking about you often. But this would be a nice bonus.” He admitted. His thumb grazed over her bottom lip, barely making contact with it as he noticed her breathing begin to increase in speed. Using one hand, he tilted her head up slightly so that he could get a full view of her; using his other hand to place hers on his growing member. “God, you’re so sexy. Look at what you’re doing to me.” His voice was low and his breathing was ragged at just the mere contact of her hand; even though it had been over the thick material of his jeans, it still made all the difference. “Are you sure you want to give me that much control?” He asked half jokingly, even though that had been also a thought of his before.

Lola beamed at Ollie when he said that she had already won him over, her dimples making a major appearance as she grinned at him. "If it makes you feel better, you won me over months ago. I'm a sucker for you, baby", Lola told him. "No judging the bangs, okay? I really can't pull them off", she laughed as she shook his hand. As Ollie placed kisses on her neck, he hit a particular sensitive spot and Lola's body shivered slightly in response to the pleasure sensation. "When you touch me, my body instinctively reacts to you. It's like it remembers how damn good you make me feel and my arousal just spikes", she told him. It was a good thing that Ollie found it attractive because she had no idea how to turn it off. "Don't make me regret admitting it", she groaned. "I'm hoping that I'm at least in your top three... hell, I'd settle for top five". With the exception of Allison and Katherine, Lola didn't know much about his sexual history so it was highly possible that she didn't stack up to some of the other women that he'd been with. "What do you think about when you touch yourself?" she asked curiously, wondering which memories or fantasies featuring her were most common when he was alone. Her eyes dropped to his hand as his thumb grazed her bottom lip; he had barely touched her and she was already so ready for him. She let out a soft gasp as he placed her hand over his jeans, able to feel him growing hard even underneath the material of his jeans. She knew that Ollie was in charge here so she slowly moved her hand to the button of his jeans, wordlessly looking at him for permission to undo them and get rid of another one of the layers that were between them. "I can't wait to feel you", she murmured. "I'm certain", she confirmed. "I want you to use me for your own pleasure, to do whatever you want to me. When you finally let me cum, it's going to feel so fucking amazing that neither of us are ever going to forget tonight".

Ollie 's adoration for Lola showed in his face; his grin wide and his eyes bright. He simply just kissed her passionately in response, hoping that his kiss said everything he needed to say. "I think you'd look cute in bangs." he replied, his smile remaining. He could feel her body slightly shiver as he sick what he assumed to be one of her sensitive spots, causing him to gently suck the area, his tongue occasionally running over her smooth skin. "I'm just glad that I'm able to make you feel so good." he stated simply. Ollie found it a good sign that the two had such an effect on each other's bodies; it made things fun between them and oddly enough, it made their bond just that much stronger. "You are. You have nothing to worry about." he didn't want her comparing herself to other girls, or having any doubts that she was anything less than the girls in his past - which was the main reason he didn't really go into that much detail about it. Those girls didn't matter to him anymore, and the past was simply just that - the past. "I think about you going down on me, and riding me until you're practically screaming my name. Or how tight and ready you always are, or how it feels when your body quivers underneath mine. How it feels when I'm filling you up completely...I can go on for hours." he spoke in between kisses, a soft chuckle slipping his lips. His eyes shot down to her hands, watching as her fingers made their way to the button of his jeans; he simply gave her a small nod, giving her permission to proceed. "Once I let you cum, I'm going to make you cum over and over again. If I'm going to take you in the kitchen, I'm going to cover every inch; the counter, the walls, the table..." he trailed off, his hands slowly making their way up her thighs.

Lola knew what Ollie was wordlessly conveying by the kiss so when he pulled away, a warm smile stretched across her face; letting Ollie know that she had understood what he was telling her. "I know that you're being sweet but trust me, I cannot pull it off. If I ever start talking about cutting bangs back in, you need to tell me to stop. Under no circumstances are you to let me do it", she warned him, completely serious. She always thought it was a good idea beforehand but regretted it within a few days. Ollie clearly interpreted her shiver as a sign that he had kissed a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and as he gently sucked the same spot, a small whimper fell from her lips; the sound making it clear that she wanted more. "The fact that we both make each other feel so good makes this all so much better". She believed him when he said that she was near the top; she found it hard to believe that their sexual chemistry and compatibility was easily replicated. As Ollie listed what he thought about, she let out a quiet moan; her mind quickly filling with images of what he was saying, including a few memories where they had engaged in such acts together. "It's so hot thinking about you touching yourself while talking about me. I want to see it one day", she told him. As he nodded at her, she quickly undid the button on his jeans and the zipper. With the extra wiggle room, she was able to slip her hand into his jeans, her hand touching him over the material of his boxers. "I... I should have asked you to move in sooner", she told him as his hands ran up her thighs; her body already responding to his touch. She had completely submitted to Ollie in this instance and the fact that she was under his control was a huge turn on.

"I can't make any promises. Between that and your dimples, I think you'd look hot." Ollie teased lightly, kissing her cheek lightly. Although his teasing had been light, he was also kind of serious. But then again, he was a guy so what did he know about hair? As his lips remained on her neck, he turned their bodies over so that she was laying down and he was on top of her. "Later." he said simply, kissing her lips before abruptly pulling away. "Maybe this is the real reason we're together." he joked lightly, a smirk appearing on his face. "Do you think you will be able to keep your hands to yourself?" he asked, half jokingly. Ollie continued to watch as she continued to unbutton his jeans, slipping her hand into his jeans. His breathing ragged and increasing, a soft groan left him from the more direct contact. "I want you so badly right now." he whispered, his fingertips playing with the band of her underwear, suddenly wishing that he could just rip the material off.

Lola lightly rolled her eyes at Ollie. “You’re a terrible boyfriend, James. I’ve literally given you one task and you’re making it pretty clear that you can’t even do that!” Lola playfully exclaimed. She let out a surprised gasp when he quickly reversed their positions; loving the way it felt when his body was against hers, lightly pressing her down. When he said later, she found herself hoping that he meant later tonight because now that she had thought about it, it was hard to push those thoughts from her mind. “It’s definitely not the deep emotional connection, I’m only into you for your body”, she quipped in response. “If it’s tonight and you tell me too then yes”, she said simply. If it was any other night, she wasn’t so sure about her level of self-restraint. The sounds that Ollie was making were a huge turn on and with a little difficulty, she managed to get her hand inside his boxers so that there was no fabric between them. “I’m yours”, she reminded him softly as his fingertips played with the band of her underwear. She had made it clear that he could do whatever he wanted to her tonight; and her wet centre made it clear just how turned on she was by that thought.

Ollie chuckled softly in response. “I’m a terrible boyfriend? I just probably gave you the best compliment!” He immediately retorted back, his engaging and entertained smile present. “I mean, I guess I’m just glad you’re into me in general.” He laughed, saying that only half jokingly. Ollie never really lacked in the confidence department, but when it came to Lola there was a voice in the back of his head saying that he wasn’t good enough. He knew that she loved him, and he loved her just as much, maybe even more...but there was no way he was even close to being good enough for her. “Just tonight?” He questioned with a small smirk. Another soft groan slipped his lips at the skin on skin contact between her hand and his cock. He could feel himself become harder as her minor movements continued, and he was sure that he would just take her right then and there if she continued. Taking her hand out of his boxers, his own hands made their way to the back of her thighs. He lifted her up swiftly and wrapped her legs around his torso, carrying her over to the kitchen area. He placed her back on her feet before his hands were placed onto her shoulders. He gently pushed her, lowering her to her knees. “I want to feel your lips wrapped around me.” He whispered, half requesting and half asking.

Lola playfully nudged him in the side. "It's an awful compliment because bangs really don't suit me", Lola insisted, although it was sweet that Ollie was always attracted to her, no matter what changes she made to her appearance. "I'm more and more into you with every day that passes", she told him, her answer a little more serious as she never wanted him to doubt just how deeply she loved him. She knew that Ollie sometimes worried that he wasn't enough and although she found that thought completely implausible, she did whatever she could to show him otherwise. "Just tonight. Any other night, I'd be on my way to your place in minutes so that I could sink to my knees and let you fuck my mouth instead of settling for your own hand", she told him. She pouted at him as he removed her hand from his boxers but he took no notice of it, instead picking her up and carrying her over to the kitchen. She half-expected Ollie to put her on the counter but instead, he rested her gently on her feet and pushed at her shoulders, his intention suddenly clear. Without complaint, she sunk to her knees in front of him. She pushed the material of his jeans and boxers further down his legs so that they wouldn't get in the way and took his hard length into her hand. She started slowly, her hand moving over his cock in the way he loved whilst she swirled her tongue around the head. She looked up at him through her lashes to note his reaction and right as he opened his mouth to complain about her teasing pace, she took all of his length into her mouth; only stopping when every inch of his cock was covered.

Ollie laughed as he felt the other nudge him, his eyes brightening in response to their playful little banter. “Okay. Since relationships are all about sacrifice and compromise, I promise I will shut you down so quick if you mentioned getting bangs.” he joked, although he knew that he would be the only to kindly remind her if that were to ever happen. Ollie have her a small, shy smile as she spoke. This had been the only relationship where he even worried slightly about not being enough, but that’s because he knew Lola deserved only the best life had to offer. He appreciated how she was determined to make sure that he was loved, and he showed this gratitude by pulling her in close and kissing her. “You are so whipped.” he whispered against her lips, showing that he was completely joking around by releasing a soft laugh. “I’d take being in your mouth over my hand any day. Just the sight of you going down on me alone is enough to make me come.” He spoke honestly. A soft groan left him as she took ahold of his cock in her hand, twisting her wrist ever so slightly as her tongue swirled around his already sensitive head. He ran his own tongue over his lips before gently biting his lower lip in attempts to muffle and control his breathing and hushed moans. Just as he was about to ask for more, Lola was beginning to take him fully in her mouth. Her name rolled off the tip of his tongue in a soft moan as he felt the pleasurable sensation of her tongue running across the back of his hard length. One hand laced through her hair as other gently caressed her face, his thumb grazing over her jawline. He gently tugged on her hair, just enough so that her head was tilted back ever so slightly. His dark lust filled eyes met hers, and he gave her a small nod, encouraging her to continue.

"Thank you, that's all I wanted!" Lola happily exclaimed. She had both Ollie and Addison on standby to make sure that she didn't make an impulsive bangs-related decision again, having regretted it every other time that she had gotten the cut. "So, so whipped", she agreed, laughing along with him. There was really no point in denying it -- she was crazy about Ollie and would do whatever she could to make him happy. "It feels so good to make you fall apart like that. It's such a turn on knowing how much you love it and how good it makes you feel", she told him. She felt her own arousal spike in response to his soft groans and the way that he was biting his lip to keep from being too loud. She moaned around his length as the head of his cock hit the back of her throat, her lack of gag reflex certainly coming in handy during moments like this. She moaned again as he tugged on her hair to tilt her head back, fully intending to push him over the edge and make him cum from her mouth alone. She quickly fell into the rhythm that he most enjoyed, fighting the urge to start touching herself as she wanted her boyfriend to finish first.

Ollie simply smiled and laughed in response, nearly mesmerized at how adorable she was when she was truly happy and in the moment. He kissed her once more, his smirk very much apparent after hearing her agree to his statement. “You and I both.” He whispered once more as his hands graciously felt on her body. “No one can make me lose control like you. It’s those moments I think about when I’m all alone and desperately wanting to be inside you.” He admitted in a hushed tone. He cursed underneath his breath at the sensational vibration that had coursed through him in results to her moan. Between that, the way her tongue ran up against him, and watching her take all of him so effortlessly, Ollie could feel the pressure building up in the pit of his stomach. A breathless sigh followed by a light moan slipped him as his grip on her hair grew slightly tighter, knowing that she had found him being a little rough a huge turn on. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmured under his breath, using his free hand to gently caress the side of her face. “God, the things I want to do to you right now.”

It was in quiet moments like this where Lola realized the extent of Ollie's feelings for her. She saw the way that he was looking at her, the love and adoration clear in his eyes, and it just wiped away any lingering doubts about the depth of his feelings. It was clear that he loved her just as much as she loved him. "We're a good match, then", she told him. "You have no idea how much of a turn on it is to know that I affect you in a way that no one else does", she confided in him. His attraction to her, his arousal, his desire, just further heightened her own feelings towards him. His hands in her hair got a little tighter and she could feel herself growing wetter in response to it, having always liked it when Ollie was a little rough with her. "Tell me exactly what you want to do to me", she told him as she pulled back for a second before immediately resuming what she had been doing, knowing that it was driving Ollie crazy.

"The best match." Ollie stated simply as he continued to place light kisses on the corner of her lips and down her jawline. "I don't think there's anyone else for me." he confessed in a whisper, kissing her in between his words. "Does, has, or ever will." he stated simply. Ollie had his fair share of good sexual experiences before his time at Monarch, but this was completely different. Their emotional and physical connection only added on to the total lust that they had for one another, making sex just /that/ much greater. "I want to fuck every inch of you; your mouth; your ass; your tight pussy. I want to rip off those sexy panties, bend you over this counter, and fuck you until every inch of your body is trembling under my body. I want to make you cum over and over again, until my name is the only word that you remember." his words came out both slow and breathless as his main focus was on how amazing her tongue and lips felt around him. At this point both of his hands were tangled in her hair, pulling a bit more roughly this time as he used practically all of his energy attempting to not thrust into her mouth.

"A forever match", Lola replied, her voice quiet but filled with love and hope for Ollie and their future. "And I don't think there's anyone else for me. Even on our worst days, there isn't anyone else that I want to be going through life with". They had taken a serious step today by moving in together but when she thought about their future, she was confident that this wouldn't be the last big step that they made. She saw the two of them getting married, maybe having children, building their lives /together/. She moaned around his length, wordlessly letting him know that she was more than willing to do all of that with him tonight. It was just the two of them with no interruptions, celebrating this important milestone in their lives so she truly didn't expect either of them to get any sleep tonight. She could feel that Ollie was holding back so she reached up and placed her hands on his hips; using the grip to push his hips back and forward a couple of times so that he would know that it was okay for him to do what he so obviously wanted to.

Ollie placed his lips against hers, his hand cradling her face as the other ran down her body. In that moment his future seemed very clear, she was the one for him. He knew that she was going to be his wife one day and the two were going to have mini Ollie’s and Lola’s running around, and for once the thought didn’t scare him. “Forever indeed. You’re the only one I want.” He stated as he pulled away, his voice quiet. Due to recent events, all Ollie wanted was to be with her. He was willing to promise her forever because forever with her was actually plausible. He took her guidance as an indication for him to not hold back. Still gripping slightly onto her hair, he held her head in place as his hips began to rock slowly. A stream of moans mixed with her name and some profanities continuously slipped from his lips as the head of his cock continued to hit the back of her throat; moments like these being when he was grateful she didn’t have a gag reflex. His movements continued for a couple of moments before the familiar sensation began to build up in the pit of his abdomen. Knowing that he was bound to come in her mouth if he kept it up, he immediately pulled out, letting out a loud breath as he did so. He kept his hands on her face, cradling it as he pulled her up to her feet; his lips immediately crashing on hers for a deep, dirty kiss. “What do you want?” He asked as he pulled away, his eyes beginning to turn dark with lust.

Lola had thought about asking Ollie to move in with her countless times before but had always talked herself out of it, wanting to wait until she was sure that Ollie was ready for such a serious commitment; and an important step forwards in their relationship. She found herself glad that she had waited because this moment felt absolutely perfect; she wouldn't change anything about it. Lola felt so completely happy and content right now that she wished she could freeze time and live in this moment forever. "Forever has never sounded so good", Lola told her boyfriend, genuinely meaning it. Ollie quickly got the hint and started slowly fucking her mouth, the moans and profanities falling from his lips making it clear just how much he was enjoying herself. Too soon for her liking, he was pulling out of her mouth and she pouted at him as he pulled her to her feet. She kissed him deeply, her hand wrapping around his hard length and stroking him as they kissed. "I wanted you to cum in my mouth but you seem to have other intentions so with that in mind, I want you to fuck me until I can barely stand".

#chatzy #c: ollie #au #future au #this will surprise no one #but here is another chatzy that i've fucked up #and lost half the replies for #another work in progress with updates to follow

[haughtbreaker]

Pour Me More Ch 2: Only a Memory

Thank you so much for all those that took a chance on this story. I appreciate all the comments and kudos. Thanks to @jaybear1701 for repeatedly telling me to stop using the word "form" and to use more commas. Although I have a huge chunk of this story typed, I’m going to be getting ready for Earp-a-palooza so I’m knee deep in prep. I’ll have a vendor table there for GalPalStitches.Com if anyone wants to drop by.

Also Posted on AO3.

Trigger Warning: Mention of past suicide attempt.

Accompanying Song for this Chapter: Beauty from Pain by SuperChick

The moment her plane touched down, Nicole could feel the chill permeating through the window. She tugged her hoodie a little closer, knowing she would soon have to adorn the heavy coat that took up most of the space inside her backpack. Even with the buds in her ears, she could still hear the flight attendant droning on about keeping her seat belt on and not standing in the aisles until the plane came to a complete stop. Nervously, she gripped the small keychain in her pocket, running her thumbnail between the layers of the keyring.

When the door to the plane opened, a rush of cold filled the air and Nicole realized something she hadn't even considered… there was no warm walkway waiting outside the door leading to the airport, only icy wind and a long trek across the tarmac. She quickly tugged out her jacket, barely getting her beanie over her head before someone was clearing their throat impatiently behind her.

The frigid cold bit right into Nicole's face as she stepped down the stairs, trying not to slip on the stairs that looked at least half a century old. She attempted to turn her mind away from her burning eyes and the frigid shock to her lungs as she followed the flock of people that headed towards a nearby building. Instead, she thought about home, picturing the sun shining on the perfect break, the wind smelling of salt and sunscreen. She tried to taste the seawater on her tongue and hear the wind blowing through the leaves of coconut trees, the feel of soft skin under her fingertips and lips pressing against the spot just below her left ear. Listening closely, she could hear that voice…

"My beautiful beach rat."

Nicole blinked as her eyes began to water, lost in a memory of what once was, her feet working by autopilot. A blast of artificial heat assaulted her just inside the door and she was pulled back to the present, feeling her skin drying almost instantly. "Welcome to fucking Canada," she mumbled as she moved with the crowd being herded towards the baggage area by security ribbons and faded signs. The large digital display on the wall told her it was just before noon and she tried not to think too much about what she'd be doing if she were home, about how she'd be in third period, American History. A lot of good that would do her now.

It wasn't a far walk. The airport didn't appear to be much bigger than one of those gas stations surrounded by cornfields in rural Indiana or some other horror movie shit like that. Where zombie kids came out of nowhere to slaughter you if you weren't paying attention.

It didn't fill her with a sense of comfort.

From what her mother had told her about her hometown, Purgatory was a bit of a shithole - a place where you were lucky if your house had indoor plumbing. She hadn't even fathomed that outhouses were still a thing. Her thoughts lingered on midnight bathroom trips and the probability of freezing to death on a shitter.

There had to be a statistic for that somewhere.

The baggage area was straight ahead through a set of automatic doors. The guard blocking the exit from the secure area was a man who had to be at least 80 years old, sitting on a stool and sleeping soundly. To Canada's credit, the waiting loved ones seemed to be keeping honest by staying near the baggage claim, waiting patiently for the passengers to exit.

Nicole wasn't quite sure who she should be looking for and raised an eyebrow as she saw a girl dressed in black leather holding a hand-written sign that said Haught Pants McGee. The girl wore a pair of aviator glasses that she lowered to look at Nicole. Blue eyes, angular features and all attitude, no doubt stuck in some sort of personal rebellion against the social norm. This had to be one of the sisters she'd heard about. Nicole sighed softly, walking straight up to her and stopping.

"I don't think we're at the point in our relationship where you can make fun of my name yet."

The girl shrugged, folding up the sign. "Well, can I make fun of you being gay at least? I do have to say, I always wanted a gay cousin. I'm Wynonna."

"I'm pretty sure that could be considered some level of prejudice." Nicole gave her a wry look. She wasn't quite sure how to gauge her new acquaintance. "Well, I'm Nicole and I can't say I ever wanted a leather-clad deviant as a cousin… adopted cousin… or second cousin of my mother's adoptive family... however the hell this works."

"Funny, I'm not the one that was sent off to another country," Wynonna paused. "This time. Shit, maybe we are related… by adoption," she mocked before pursing her lips and looking around awkwardly. "So… now that we've firmly established that we could legally bone without being shunned by society… you got more shit than that little backpack? Cause you're a little too tall for my meticulously assembled wardrobe and you're definitely about a dick and a half too tall for Waverly's shit."

Nicole couldn't help smiling. She'd had a picture of what the people of Purgatory would be like, but this was definitely not it. Wynonna was snarky and crass. It reminded her a little of her best friend back home, the one that was still alive anyway. "Yeah, I've got a suitcase and a duffle. And is the phallic measuring system particular to Canada as a whole or your own personal flare?"

"Easy now, Haught. I don't think we're in that stage of our relationship that you can ask me about my personal flare," Wynonna quipped with a wink. "And I hope you don't expect me to help you carry shit… I've got like… corporal tunnel."

"Carpal tunnel," Nicole corrected. "One too many hand jobs?"

Wynonna had the audacity to smirk. "Maybe a dozen too many." When a buzzer rang through the area, there were a few clanks before the small baggage carousel started spinning. "Let's get your shit so we can get back to Purgatory."

The drive was longer than Nicole thought it would be. It took about an hour of listening to Wynonna's shitty death metal that Nicole was pretty sure was Scandinavian before they passed the sign that said "Welcome to Purgatory! You'll never want to leave." Nicole swallowed audibly as they passed through the town at what had to be double the speed limit.

Nicole watched with apprehension as Wynonna seemed to almost gleefully speed past the sheriff's department, her eyes watching the rearview mirror with disappointment as no one noticed, as if she wanted to be pulled over. Wynonna huffed and turned the music down just a bit and slowed as the building disappeared out of view behind them.

It took another 15 minutes to push straight through the other side of town and drive the short distance away to what looked like a farm of sort. The house wasn't at all the shack Nicole imagined it would be, she thought, the Jeep pulling to a halt with a jolt. It was a two story house with a porch that wrapped around two sides of it. Behind the house and a bit away, there appeared to be a greenhouse that had seen better days, some of the windows cracked or missing.

Nicole slipped out of the Jeep, her legs a little unsteady after the less-than-smooth ride. There was a loud creak and she saw a woman standing in the doorway. She was slightly familiar, not from Nicole's own memories, but from photos she'd seen when she was younger.

"Nicole." The woman had short grey hair and wore a flannel shirt tucked into high-waisted jeans. She held the screen door open, expecting Nicole to enter.

Grabbing her suitcase and duffel from the back of the jeep, Nicole kept her head down, stepping inside and looking around. It was… rustic was the best word she could think of. Not exactly Martha Stewart's idea of rustic, but certainly not the backwater redneck motif she was expecting.

"Alright, let me look at you." Gus stepped up to her, a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes held a wisdom that seemed befitting of her old age. Gus had of course aged since the pictures from her mother's childhood. "You look just like your mother, but definitely a lot taller," Gus mused.

"Yeah." Nicole nodded. "So I've been told." She wasn't in the mood to talk about her mother. It was one of the things she'd dreaded, having to discuss her dead mother with the woman that had adopted her. Her mother had never spoken ill of Gus, just that she was a no-nonsense woman with keen observation skills. Gus hadn't come to the funeral and Nicole hadn't understood at the time, but after her own experience with grief, it had bought Gus a bit of lenience.

Wynonna entered the house with a slam of the door, causing everyone to jump.

"Damn it, Wynonna." Gus shook her head.

Wynonna held up her hands. "Not nice to swear at kids, Gus. You're gonna give Haught here a bad impression."

"You are not a damn kid anymore. In fact, isn't it about time you went and got yourself a job?"

"I'd love to, Gus," Wynonna shrugged, "but you know with this economy, it's getting harder to find a job that will pay you an honest living when you've got a college education, let alone being a high school dropout."

"That's funny because your sister got a job during the summer, and she's two years younger than you and still in high school."

"You got her that job!"

Nicole just watched as they argued back and forth, feeling a bit like a third wheel but also feeling a passive amusement. She'd never really gotten the opportunity to argue with her mother like this, and even if Wynonna and Gus weren't actually mother and daughter, it was an interesting dynamic.

"Can you just show her to her room, please, while I get started on dinner?" Gus massaged her temple. "I have to work tonight and I'd rather not do it with a dang headache."

Wynonna did an about face, heading to the stairs and stopping suddenly before looking at Nicole. "You coming or what?"

"Sure." Nicole shook her head, grabbing her luggage. "Thanks, Gus," she said as she passed the older woman. It was a bit of a struggle getting the luggage up the stairs, but she got there to find Wynonna leaning against the wall near a door, arms crossed over her chest. "Thanks."

"Glad to help." Wynonna responded. "Here's your room. Mine is down the hall over there and my sister Waverly's room is between ours. Gus sleeps in the room downstairs."

"OK." Nicole nodded, setting her things just inside the door before looking up at Wynonna.

Wynonna pursed her lips, tapping the toe of one of her boots for a moment before clapping her hands once. "Okay, then. Welcome to Purgatory." She turned on her heels and left without another word.

Nicole released a long sigh as she looked around the room. "Well…" She shucked off the heavier coat she wore but kept her hoodie on, hugging the material closer to her. The room wasn't much smaller than her room back home, but it smelt like storage and the walls were bare. The bed looked new, at least, with fresh sheets and a thick comforter.

She probably should have started unpacking - settling into what was going to be her new life for however long her father didn't want to deal with her anymore. She didn't blame him, of course. He hadn't been the same since her mother died. Her grief was a mirror of his own, a living reminder of what loss felt like. It was easier for him to turn his back on her than to live through it again.

She ignored her suitcase completely, grabbing her duffle bag as she sat on the bed. It was softer than she liked, almost as soft as Shae's pillowtop. "Stop." She broke the silence of the room. She knew she needed to stop comparing everything to… before.

Her watch alarm went off with a soft beep, a reminder that came three times a day of just how fragile she was. In her backpack she found three brown bottles, the contents rattling softly as she fought against the child-safety locks. Her grip strength still hadn't come back fully, even after months of physical therapy. Eventually she was able to tip out the collection of whites and peach that had become her life, washing them back with the half-empty bottle of water she'd gotten on the plane. With a grimace at the bitter taste left on her tongue, Nicole tossed the bottles back into the safety of her backpack. She wasn't quite ready to share that part of herself with her new housemates. No doubt her father had already told Gus, but no sense in giving Wynonna what could be prime ammo to use against her.

From her backpack she pulled a small framed photo, her fingertip brushing along the line of Shae's jaw. "Well… we're in some shit, Babe." She set the photo on the nightstand and pulled a familiar plush throw from her duffle bag. She could feel the lethargic wave washing over her, the side effect of her medication almost irresistible when combined with hours of traveling.

Kicking off her shoes, she pushed her bags to one side of the bed before wrapping herself in the throw, breathing in the scent of home. Looking around the room once more, she let her eyes settle on the photo of Shae as she drifted off to sleep.

The sun was reaching for the horizon by the time Waverly stepped out of the locker room and headed towards the parking lot. Cheerleading had gone a little long but still Wynonna was nowhere to be seen. She sniffled against the cold as she checked her wristwatch.

"Waves!"

Looking up, she raised a hand as Jeremy jogged up to her, his breath coming out in white puffs of condensation. "Hey Jer-bear." She smiled at her best friend who was carrying a stack of books. It was Friday which meant he had been meeting with the science club. A genius when it came to anything science, he was the only other student in Purgatory that was graduating a year early, but unlike Waverly, he wasn't a cheerleader that was liked by everyone in town. He often got pushed around by the asshole jocks of the school and Waverly did her best to shield him with her own popularity. Not only was he picked on for his intelligence, but also for being one of the few out gay students in school, and the only person Waverly had confided in regarding her questioning her own sexuality.

"What are you still doing here, Crazy." He scratched at the stubble forming along his jaw. "It's freezing! Where's your Jeep?"

Waverly shrugged. "Wynonna had to pick someone up from the airport so she took it. She's running a little late, as always."

"Classic Wynonna." Jeremy shook his head. "Got some family visiting?"

"Kind of." Waverly pursed her lips, trying to think of the best way to explain it. "I guess she's kind of like a second cousin but not really? Her mom was adopted by Gus as a kid," she explained. "And I guess she's going to be living with us for a little bit. I'm not exactly sure how long."

"Whoa." Jeremy raised his eyebrows in surprise, shifting the books in his hands so he could adjust his beanie. "That's kind of crazy. Have you not met her before?"

Waverly shook her head, feeling the chill attacking her uncovered face. "Nope. Her dad is American so she lives in California…lived I guess."

Jeremy grimaced. "From California to Purgatory… that's gonna be a bit of a weather shock."

Waverly chuckled. "Completely. You'll probably meet her on Monday," she paused before an idea came to her, " unless you wanted to come over this weekend?" She gave Jeremy her best pleading look. "We can study for our physics exam?"

"As if you needed to study." He rolled his eyes in exaggeration before sniffling.

"There's never any harm in studying, even when you know the answers." Waverly heard the sound of the gears on her Jeep grinding before she saw Wynonna skidding into the lot. "God damn it, Wynonna." Waverly barked as both she and Jeremy took an instinctual step back, the Jeep barely stopped in time.

"Sup Nerd," Wynonna nodded towards Jeremy before looking at Waverly. "Get in, Loser."

Waverly rolled her eyes before giving Jeremy a quick hug. "Tomorrow? Please?"

Jeremy sighed. "You know I can't say no to you."

"Good. Awesome. Thank you. I love you." Waverly grinned and waved before she slipped into the Jeep. As they pulled away, she reached over and turned the volume of the death metal down. "So…."

"So what?"

Waverly narrowed her eyes at her sister. "What are your thoughts?"

"That Hanson should never have stopped making music."

"Wynonna!"

Wynonna huffed. "What do you want me to say? She's… quiet, but snarky. Taller than me… like Wonder Woman kind of tall minus the leather bathing suit. She… looks so gay."

Waverly had to laugh. "What the heck does that mean?" Waverly looked down at her own clothes, star speckled leggings tucked into fuzzy calf-high boots under her cheerleading uniform that was covered with a puffy white jacket with faux-fur trim. Did she's look gay? Or bisexual rather? She didn't think so.

"You're just gonna have to see for yourself I guess."

Waverly nodded, looking out at the stretch of road ahead of them. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

#wynonna earp #wayhaught #pour me more #we fanfic #tw: mention of past suicide attempt

[needlefac]

I Travelled back to home Bolton this weekend (09.07.21) and its a big deal. I've been fully out as trans just less than one year. I have only seen my mother twice and my father once in that time. My uncle, cousin and her twin boy and girl are coming up from down south to see me too. I was nervous to say the least. This is just my diary of the weekend and I hope it resonates with some of you. Family can be difficult and I know my experience isn't unique but I feel like sharing this is necessary. I feel weird being in my old room. I was so sad here sometimes. I can see marks in the wall where I literally punched it. My mum has papered over it (no need to over egg the metaphor there) and she calls it the “guest room” now. I’m a guest in my own memory. Mum was digging out some old photos and I look miserable in most of them. Even at weddings, no especially at weddings. I mean, who’s the bitch in the frock getting all the glory! Oh yeah, it’s my sister. It wasn’t always bad here but I did have to run away to be who I am. I know that “small town boy” thing is a cliché but it’s totally true. Bolton is a dead town if your interests include techno, contemporary art and wearing latex. (Not necessarily in that order) It’s 01.45 am. The glow on the horizon from this window is Manchester. Only 15 miles away but a world of difference. I’ve only been back here 5 hours and I’m looking at that perceived emerald city like I used to. I’d tune into Kiss 102 and listen to the city until I was old enough to get there at night. The 0161 wasn’t always the answer but it allowed me to be Freda. When I got here today my dad was in bed. I took that a bit personally. He’s not seen me since Christmas, he could have stayed up a bit. I don’t know if he’s avoiding me or just tired. I’ll find out tomorrow, I suppose. My mum acts like everything is ok no matter what. There could be a hurricane coming at the house and she would just close the curtains and say “let’s deal with it later when we’ve all calmed down”. I wanted the hurricane so badly when I was young. I should stop over thinking this. I’ve had wine. I can’t sleep. I woke up early because my eyes were all crusty and itchy and my breathing was shallow. Then I realised the pillows my mum had put on the bed were feather and I'm slightly allergic. So that wasn't the best start but like everything about Bolton, I'm slightly allergic. My mums first concern of the day was picking up a bag of compost form the local hardware place, Maher's. In my mind I hear her say, 'I need some dirt from Mars'. Which causes the first laugh of the day. She needs me to do things like this for her because my dad can no longer drive due to a stroke he had 2 years ago. Anyroad, l wait outside Maher's for my mum and a burly lad in an England shirt brings out 3 bags of compost and says to me 'where do you want this, love?'. 'In my boot, love. Where all the shit goes', I say. When my mum comes back to the car l say 'oh he was cute', mainly to test her tolerance and also because I'm an idiot. Mum simply said 'football is going home'! So when we got back to the house my dad was up and shuffling around like he does. He's interested in the camera drone l bought. He wont say anything about me being trans or call me Freda. It doesn't even bother me. The fact he wants to learn to fly a remote control camera over next doors house is much more fun in that moment. He crashes it into the tree and he shouts 'mission abort mission abort'. Yeh, that's how l feel about coming to Bolton most of the time. My dad was in the RAF as an aerial photographer. I knew he would enjoy this but he was getting all too technical for a 80 quid plastic toy off amazon. I don't know what 'triangulation of trajectory' is. I always feel like Bobby Hill in these moments (my dad was actually a salesman for Calor Gas and sold propane and propane accessories for a while). Anyway, I think he appreciates that I found something to break the ice, even if he wont say she/her or call me Freda yet. I had to get out of the house before my cousin and her children turn up. She knows all about my transition and is very supportive but l haven't seen her for 5 years and it will be the first time I've met her twin boy and girl who are 7 years old now. The main reason for getting out was to explore Bolton town centre. Somewhere I've not been for quite some time. I went to one of my old haunts, The Olde Man and Scythe which is one of the oldest pubs in England, going back to the 13th century. They used to hang traitors outside here during the Civil War. So I decided to sit out side there reading Majesty Magazine sipping a gin and tonic in the Sun. Imagine living in a time when a culture war raged and people were divided along binary political lines and everyone was expected to take a side? Just imagine! I've never felt more fully actualised as a person as when a drunken fool approaches me and says 'oh you look nice, love. Can l steal a roly off you'. Yes, I'm truly validated as a woman now. This is it! No amount of psychological counselling can top this. As l lick the cigarette paper and make eye contact with this feckless tosspiece I'm reminded of how precarious my situation is if he clocks me. Is he going to read me? No he's too enthralled by my wide staring eyes, the silly sod. My next stop was the Bolton Museum and Art Gallery. There is an Egyptian room which l love. So, naturally took some photos to align myself with Queen Nefertiti and all my delusional fantasies of being some sort of mythical goddess. The thing that interests me most about this is the cotton industry connection. In my artwork and performance staging l take a lot of influence from the industrial revolution. The fact that Egyptian cotton was instrumental in that is something that creates a timeline we are all insignificant on. Its both cosmic and visceral, esoteric and factual. Seeing those cotton spinning machines alongside the astrological ambitions of ancient kings is so centring to me. An absolute connection of Heaven and Earth. From the universe of stars to the factory floor, Everything was built on immortality ambitions of industrialists and cotton in this town. I had to come down a bit from that museum experience. Whoever is curating that needs some sort of award. I had to get ready to meet my cousin, Sarah who is just one month older than me. We have lead parallel lives . Her Mother, my dad's sister moved away down south when she met her husband. They live in Wiltshire and she was educated in a way l wasn't. I've always had memorable moments with Sarah on the rare times we have spent together over the years. In some ways she was the girl l wanted to be when l was young. I was never jealous of her or held any bitterness but l remember wishing my parents would talk to me in the same way Sarah was. It just seemed to make more sense to me how her needs were met. It might be hindsight talking but I genuinely wished all the gifts for Sarah were the gifts for me. I was getting ready in my old bedroom and just trying to make myself look normal. Not some over done drag race also-ran. I've got pretty good at doing a 'day look' but even my day look is still scraping on foundation like Polyfilla! My mum came in saying 'that dress makes you look fat'. Thanks mum. This is just my mums way of trying to be funny. She said my neck looked naked and l wasn't sure what she meant. She went off to her bedroom and came out with a string of beads that looked like snooker balls on a rope. (yes, I exaggerate for comic effect). As she was hooking the necklace to the back of my neck l was held in a moment of mother/daughter interaction that produced a tear from my eye that l just didn't want to show. Time stopped there in that moment like every time that didn't happen in the past happened then in one consolidated event of simple love and I pretended to be more annoyed that I'd have to reapply my eye liner. So I drive with my mum and dad in the car to meet Sarah, the twins and my Uncle at the restaurant in the West Pennine Moors of Bolton. Its been such a build up this moment and now there is no bottling out. I'M here, I'm Freda and they are just going to have to deal with it. I see my cousin rolling up in their 4x4 super posh child transporter and the kids get out first and run up to me and l don't know what to do when they say 'hello aunty Freda'. I know they have be briefed, l know Sarah has told them to do this but even so those words feel like gold. Sarah says I look great and l bloody-well do, to be fair. No one mentions or brings up my trans-ness and while its noted my dad is the odd one out in not calling me Freda I notice the support is on my side. One of Sarah's children whispers to the other while looking at me. I say 'are you two ok there' and they say 'we like the drawing on your arm'. Its telling that the only thing they notice about me is the tattoo. I'm sure they have more to ask in time and I'm so glad they have a mother who is relaxed and open enough to answer any questions they might have in future as they grow up. I'd like to think my presence and influence is a good one. This wasn't the big deal I'd been building it up to be but my mum continues to embarrass me with her ways. She bought Sarah and the kids a few gifts which were in the boot of my car. While she was giving out all these lovely things she said to me 'Freda, don't forget that bag of compost from mars, ill save some for you'. Thanks mum. Bye bye Sarah. Don't leave it so long next time. I Drove my parents home and said my goodbyes. My dad didn't say much, just 'be careful with the drone. if you fly too high it will go out of out control'. I know dad, l know. Freda's come home.

#transgender trans comingout

[irondevilpunisher]

Joy Meachum & Iron Fist thoughts

So while waiting for the Punisher I’ve had time to marathon the Marvel shows again before the new series dropped. And lets just say rewatching Iron Fist I got a better insight into who Joy Meachum is. It surprises me she isn’t as beloved in this fandom as some of the other ladies in the marvel tv universe. Then again Karen Page for the most part suffers from the same absurdity; guess that’s what happens when the actress plays the part so well. I mean Jessica Stroup is damn good as Joy and gorgeous as hell. She brings a lot of depth, intelligence, integrity and complexities to the character and commands the screen every time she’s on. Its not really shocking to me as her previous works in other shows have been outstanding. But I think for me Joy Meachum is by far my favorite of Stroup’s characters.

Joy is so unique because she can go either way; bad, good or somewhere in middle. Either way Jessica makes you feel for this person because underneath that tough, sophisticated business woman exterior is a tortured soul; damaged and broken which is ironic considering her name. I’ve come to realize of all the characters on Iron Fist, Joy is the only one who wears a mask [metaphorically]. In many ways she’s very much like Karen. All her life she’s put up walls, refused to get close to anyone and strictly kept her mind on the company and her family. She even wears her clothes like armor to protect herself. Unsurprising. Joy didn’t exactly have it easy or a normal upbringing. Her best friend and his parents supposedly died in a plane crash when she was 10. She lost her father to cancer at 13. And we know nothing about her mother. The only person Joy could count on was her older brother Ward; a man keeping secrets of his own. 

Ward and Rand became Joy’s entire world for the past 15 years. She’d never formed any other relationships or interests outside of that. It kinda makes you wonder about what Joy fears. Her hardened closed off persona tells me she’s severely afraid of getting hurt again; of being loved or loving someone outside her blood.Though she loves her brother wholly and tries to help him and do right by her family; Joy deliberately forsakes herself from anything or anyone else and that’s what makes her such a tragic figure. I mean she spent years trying to live up to what she thought Ward was on top of trying to exceed her father’s expectations. she put so much effort into the company and for the most part made it better than what he father had done.

This was an ongoing trend for 15 years then BAM! Danny Rand comes back from the dead and throws her whole world out of wack. Just as Joy is content with the life she’d built for herself, someone from her past whom she loved and thought was deceased suddenly shows up. What’s her reaction to this? Terror and hesitation. If you really think about it Joy pushing Danny away no matter how much he screamed made sense. She’d already mourned him once and considering all the agony she’d gone through after the Rands’ and her father’s death these were just old wounds she wasn’t prepared to reopen. This woman literally thinks she’s seeing ghosts when he strolls up to her apartment. Nothing good had come into her life, why would it now? So Joy’s immediate response to Danny at every turn is to reject him. 

But here’s the kicker, no matter how much she tries to drive him away in the beginning there’s still that twinge of hope in Joy, a part of her wants to believe him so badly. Even after she and Ward drug Danny and have him committed to a mental institution, Joy still finds herself searching for answers regarding his arrival; if he’s telling the truth and where he’s been for the past 15 years. First she goes through old photos to see if the kid she remembers resembles anything like the strange young man spouting things off about her life.Then Joy does the one secret thing only Danny [her friend] would know about, sending him a package of M&Ms to see if he dissects the brown ones like they use to do when they were kids. Sure enough he does and Joy knows without a doubt in her heart its Danny. 

So what does she do afterward? Joy is torn between her loyalty to her family, the company and her feelings towards her childhood best friend. Sure she’s glad he’s alive but at this point Joy still feels she can’t afford any attachments. She doesn’t think there is any room left in her life to include Danny. And She’s convinced herself the girl he knew is long gone. So she resorts to push him away again this time at Ward’s behest by restricting Danny of his Rand name and rightful place at the company. This is the first time Danny glimpses the cold and cruel side of Joy which he doesn’t like at all. In fact her actions succeed in that he finally renounces any semblance of the bond or trust they once shared together; which ends up stirring him into Colleen’s direction. 

Unfortunately for Joy she can’t keep up the act any longer. Seeing Danny alive has already messed her up, but now its severing anything decent left inside her. Joy doesn’t like this as her conscience ends up getting the better of her. So on the day the Meachums meet with Danny and his lawyer to discuss a settlement, Joy goes behind Ward’s back and gives Danny the only evidence of his identity. A fingerprint under an old pottery key-holder, she’d been using, that he made for her. Ward of course figures it out right away, knowing his sister still holds a soft spot for Danny. It couldn’t be more obvious. Joy’s been living in his family’s old apartment, surrounded by photos of them as children. She keeps extra photos of them in a box at her desk; along with packages of M&Ms. Everything that reminds her of Danny is there in plain sight. Without realizing it Joy has been harboring her own personal Danny Rand shrine. She is either absolutely in denial or completely unaware of what she feels. But they’re there hidden deep.

Its funny because in all of Danny and Joy’s scenes together, the armor seems to crack. He somehow manages bring out Joy’s vulnerable side that she feels comfortable enough to confide in him. Danny is just so full of light and kindness that it cuts through the darkness Joy finds herself shrouded in most times. She tells him about her father’s death, what she went through since his family’s plane crash; things she hardly discusses with anyone. Not even Ward as close as they are which tells you something about the kind of friendship Joy had with Danny growing up. Now enter Danny trying to adjust as 51% shareholder of the company. He’s not very good at it but can you blame the guy? He was raise by monks for 15 years in a mythical place. At this Joy takes the opportunity to help him a little, maybe even get to know him again. For the most part they start bonding, Joy even smiles and laughs again in his presence. Gahh I can’t get enough of Jessica Stroup and Finn Jones’s beautiful chemistry; they’ve created this fascinating connection between the two characters. I live for that. Anyway they are however interrupted when a gang of assassins tries to kidnap Joy thus further straining any ties she has with Danny.

Now we get into the big stuff involving Ward and their father. In the midst of the Meachums being ousted by the board at Rand [something altogether painful for both siblings], Joy suddenly stumbles on her brother’s giant bomb that Harold had been resurrected and that he’d been forced to keep it a secret from her. Which means Joy had been living under a decades old lie. Danny of course found out earlier and only agrees to keep it from Joy to protect her from the Hand. This burdens Danny as he doesn’t enjoy being dishonest with her anymore than Ward. Joy is so conflicted, confused and shocked about her father she doesn’t know how to handle this situation. And strangely she’s more angry with Danny about the lie than at Ward, who kept her in the dark for years. Yet despite Ward’s continuous warnings that Harold is dangerous, Joy can’t let him go. Because like with Danny, Joy’s hope has been rekindled. And why would she regard Ward at this point after the lies and chasing him down for his drug habits? Joy sees her father alive in front of her. She wants that relationship again because she misses it. She needs it. 

As much as Joy wants to be happy her father’s alive she can’t be. Something prevents those feelings. And Joy starts noticing Harold’s dark, more sinister behavior. It scares her. He gets physically violent and short-tempered easily. And he tries to screw over Danny’s right to the company which Joy whole-heartedly objects to. Then there’s Harold’s dealings with the Hand which put Joy smack dab in harms way. By the end of Iron Fist’s first season Joy’s more damaged than ever. But its not the bullet wound that has her in agony its the betrayal of all people she loves. Her brother. Her father. Danny. All of them let her down in ways she can’t discern. And because of that she’s officially closed the door on everyone. On the verge of making irrational decisions based on emotion; something she doesn’t do being as logical minded as she is. Its landed Joy  in the cross-hairs of Davos’s feud with Danny and no doubt he will do whatever means necessary to take advantage of her fragile state.  

I found that Davos/Joy cliffhanger interesting because it was unexpected. You’d think he would’ve tried manipulating Colleen or Ward but no he went right for Joy. Why? What purpose does this serve him? What is he standing to gain? I mean if Joy isn’t that important to Danny why not seek out someone who is? The Answer is because Davos wants to hurt Danny and what better way to do that than use someone else he cares about to do it. Just think of the chaos Davos could create pushing Joy’s buttons as she plunges further into darkness and pain. And believe me I expect a world of pain ahead for Joy in season 2. But will she accept his offer? Her feelings for Danny are already conflicted enough to hate him or at least try to. We’ve yet to know Joy’s head space at that point nor how she even met Davos. One thing is certain though she’s hurting badly. Its gonna take more than hugs on Ward and Danny’s part to bring Joy around. 

Also why the hell was Madam Goa there? What’s she planning? Too bad the Defenders writers didn’t think to give us a tease on that.  

All and all I’m pretty excited for what S2 brings. Anyway these are just my Joy Meachum thoughts for the day. 

#joy meachum #iron fist #danny rand #ironjoy #ward meachum #harold meachum #danny x joy #joy x ward #iron fist season 1 #marvel's iron fist #iron fist season 2 #jessica stroup #joy meachum meta #character analysis #davos

[madferliam]

Liam Gallagher: ‘You have to commit to a rock’n’roll life’

The singer’s next stop after One Love Manchester is Glastonbury. He tells Will Hodgkinson about his dark years, saying sorry to Chris Martin and the chances of an Oasis reunion

Liam Gallagher in Waterlow Park, London | Photo by Neale Haynes 

Now that Liam Gallagher is back after three years in the wilderness to reclaim his title of the last great rock’n’roll star, it seems only right to ask him which other rock stars have impressed him. As we sit over orange juice and water in a café near his home in north London he reels off names like Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney, Ronnie Wood and his fellow Highgate resident Ray Davies, but the only person he has been starstruck by, he says, is Yoko Ono. In 2009 Gallagher got a call to visit Ono at the Dakota Building, the apartment block in New York where she lived with John Lennon from 1973 until Lennon was shot, outside the building, in 1980. 

“It was eight in the morning and I thought, ‘F*** this, man. I don’t know if I can go up there,’ ” says Gallagher, who once claimed to be the reincarnation of John Lennon, despite being aged eight when Lennon died. “But I had a couple of drinks, went down, and the geezer at the door goes, ‘Who are you?’ ‘Liam Gallagher, mate.’ I go to the ninth floor, flat 72, and who’s standing there? F***ing Yoko Ono.”

Gallagher, 44, describes declining Ono’s invitation to have a tinkle on Lennon’s piano (“because I can’t f***ing play the thing”) before taking up her offer of a cup of tea and rich tea biscuits, only to drop an entire biscuit into his drink by mistake. Ono expressed concern that Gallagher’s son Lennon might get a hard time from the other kids at school, but Liam reassured her that Lennon Gallagher is a top name and he would be fine. Then he noticed the Japanese writing on the cornices.

“I asked her what it meant and she said, ‘Funny you should mention that. John saw it at my parents’ house and liked it so I put it round our gaff,’ ” he recalls, perhaps not using Ono’s exact words. “It means, ‘While I’ve been hibernating I’ve been gathering my wings.’ So now I’ve put it in a new tune of mine called All I Need. Been trying for years to use that line and then — bingo.”

Gallagher has indeed been gathering his wings. When Oasis came to a messy end in 2009 after Liam launched a plum — then, more painfully, a guitar — at his brother Noel’s head before a gig in Paris, Liam looked like the one who might come off worse. Noel used his songwriting chops to launch a successful solo career while Beady Eye, the band Liam formed with the rest of Oasis, suffered from a distinct lack of killer anthems of the type that Noel is famous for. Then came three years of silence bar the odd jibe on Twitter, most of which involved Liam comparing Noel to a potato. And then Liam returned. There was a triumphant Manchester homecoming gig in May, a surprising duet of the Oasis classic Live Forever with Chris Martin of Coldplay at Ariana Grande’s One Love concert in June, and a just-announced Glastonbury slot that is already the talk of the festival.

“I’m steaming for Glastonbury,” says Gallagher, looking toned in a black T-shirt, cropped hair and jeans; we are meeting at 11 in the morning and he has already been for a seven-mile run on Hampstead Heath. “Now is the right time. We’ve had enough of politician rock’n’rollers who say all the right things before going back to their nice houses. I’m the truth juice, man. I’m a little aggy bastard and that’s what it’s all about. ”

I remind him that last time we met, in 2011, he derided Glastonbury as an inferno of “celebrities walking around in their famous wellingtons”, an apt if damning summation of the festival’s backstage scene. “Yeah, but there are dickheads everywhere, aren’t there? I certainly won’t be hanging around with any celebrities. I’ll be holding it down in my own little spot. And my kids [Lennon, 17, and Gene, 15] are coming for the first time, so I won’t be taking mushrooms either. Not in front of them, anyway.”

What if Lennon and Gene try expanding their minds in illegal ways? “Not happening, mate. I haven’t got a leg to stand on, but they won’t be doing it in front of me. Because I’ll be doing it all. There’ll be none left.”

While looking forward to living in his own Glastonbury bubble for the weekend, Gallagher draws the line at actually going to see any bands. “No way, man. I don’t like big gatherings. And then there’s the mud. I’m not ruining me clothes for no one.”

Gallagher’s return comes after a difficult time. Beady Eye ended in 2014 after the band were told they could not afford to tour America; a bitter pill to swallow for a man who fronted it out with Oasis before 250,000 people at Knebworth in 1996. His marriage to Nicole Appleton ended in 2013 amid accusations of infidelity, with an American writer, Liza Ghorbani, filing for child support for a daughter Gallagher fathered.

“After that I sat around the house and drank, moaned, drank a bit more, moaned, and spent a lot of time in court,” says Gallagher of his dark years of the soul. “I weren’t seeing my kids, which is understandable; I f***ed up. If I came out of the house it was Oasis this and Oasis that and I felt like a shadow of my former self, so I was going to f*** off to Spain, get a little castle, buy a pair of gold trunks and let it all hang out. But then I got pulled back and started writing songs again. My missus, Debbie [Gwyther, his former assistant], said they were all right, so we met a geezer from Warners and he signed us on the spot.”

Since returning to the fray, Gallagher has noticed some changes in the world of music. “A lot of bands are claiming to be here to save guitar music, but you have to plug the f***ing thing in first, do you know what I mean? It’s like in the Nineties when the pop world got on to it that guitar music was cooking, so they would get some pretty boys and whack guitars round their necks. F*** that, man. I can only do one genre and it’s rock’n’roll. That’s my shit: the Pistols, the Who, Oasis, the Stones. I can’t be dealing with the rest of it.”

What about the Beatles? “Anyone who doesn’t like the Beatles are dark people,” he says, adding ominously: “Demons. But the Beatles were more like . . . what’s the word for those orchestra people?” Composers? He nods. “They were composers. Or maybe even wizards.”

I cannot help but wonder, when he complains about politician rock’n’rollers and pop bands posing with guitars, if Gallagher isn’t thinking about Coldplay. After all, he has variously called Chris Martin a vicar, a geography teacher and a plant pot. It might have made Gallagher and Martin’s duet at the Manchester One Love concert a touch awkward.

“I did say, after we rehearsed Live Forever in the toilets, sorry to him for that,” Gallagher says. “But [Martin] said, ‘No, no, carry on, we love it!’ So I was like, ‘OK, what’s that you’re wearing?’ They know it’s in jest. We’re all different. Not everyone can be as cool as me.”

Gallagher played his forthcoming single, Wall of Glass, at the One Love concert, a strange choice given that the audience was made up mostly of teenage girls who were more in the mood to sing along to pop bangers than contemplate the qualities of a song they had never heard before by that bloke from the band their dad liked. “I didn’t want to play it!” he protests. “I knew I’d only get it in the neck for doing a new song, but the organisers wanted it. They wanted me to do Imagine as well but I said, ‘No, man. That’s the Holy Grail.’ ”

Gallagher was not happy about Noel’s failure to perform at One Love, even though Noel, who was on holiday, donated royalties from Don’t Look Back in Anger to the Manchester relief fund and gave his blessing to a performance of the song by Chris Martin and Ariana Grande. I put it to Liam that two Gallaghers on one stage would count as an Oasis reunion, and that an Ariana Grande-led charity concert was not the place for that momentous event.

“You know what it’s like — whenever anything goes down there’s talk of Oasis getting back together,” says Liam, who at Glastonbury runs the risk of bumping into his brother, who will be there to introduce a screening of the Oasis documentary Supersonic. “He’s made it clear that a reunion is not at the top of his priorities and right now it’s not the top of mine. I would prefer it if I was in Oasis, but that’s not what the Manchester concert was about. He could have got up and done Don’t Look Back in Anger and never even had to see me.”

Noel has said he was never asked to play. “Are you telling me that if Noel Gallagher rocked up with his guitar and knocked on the door they would say, ‘You’re not invited, mate’?” Liam retorts. “So he can f*** off on that one. I don’t care if he was in the Amalfi Coast or wherever, it lacked sympathy on his behalf. We have family and friends in Manchester and me mam’s still there, and it would have been nice to do it for his people. End of.”

Liam was only 19 when Oasis took off, propelling him into a jetset lifestyle that was a world away from the streets where he grew up. He went straight from his mother Peggy’s terraced house in Burnage, Manchester, to living with Patsy Kensit in Primrose Hill, northwest London. “It happened at exactly the right time,” he says. “I spent the first 19 years of my life going: ‘What is this shit? It’s raining all the time, there’s no air in the football, the mushrooms have all been picked.’ I was digging holes in the street, thinking: I’d rather have the shakes from rock’n’roll than from a pneumatic drill. And you know what? It turned out great. There’s been no drink or drugs problems. I f***ed up on the personal front, but don’t we all?”

What would he be doing now if it hadn’t happened for him? “I’d be in Piccadilly Gardens in Manchester, smoking spice with the other zombies, pissing my pants and dribbling out of my ears.”

I suggest that working-class bands are suited to rock’n’roll because they see it all as a bonus while middle-class bands, suffering from guilt that they didn’t do something more useful with their lives, are the ones who end up in rehab.

“I was thinking about that on me run this morning,” he says. “When working-class people get money, fame, horses and nice holidays, it’s all new. With them upstairs, they’ve already been on private jets. They’ve already stayed in villas on Barbados. If it’s not fought for it’s not worth it, so what do they do? They go mad. I feel sorry for them, actually.”

An Oasis reunion feels like more a case of if than when. Both Gallaghers have solo albums out in the autumn, but the lure of having 150,000 people sing Wonderwall or Rock’n’Roll Star back at them on the Pyramid Stage must surely be too strong to resist for ever. I would put it at 2019.

“Mate, it’s not up to me, is it?” says Liam. “It’s in the hands of Noel. He’s got the biggest power and that’s what pisses me off. It will depend on how his solo records go because his ego is out of control and he won’t be able to handle it if it dwindles, but he’s obviously got a massive problem with me. As far as I’m concerned, it was a minor argument that broke up Oasis. We’ve had worse. I heard talk about him doing a solo career five years before, so he used it to jump ship. Right now I can’t give a shit about Oasis, Noel or his shit fans.”

When we head down to Waterlow Park in Highgate for the photo shoot, Gallagher, in an age when boy-next-door types such as Ed Sheeran have taken over the charts and the main stage at Glastonbury, still looks and acts every inch the rock star. Teenagers walking past ask him for his autograph. He boasts about the photographs of cancerous lungs on cigarette packets failing to scare him off his nicotine habit. Never before has a man been able to imbue the wearing of an oversized blue and yellow anorak with such menace.

“It’s a good life, rock’n’roll,” he says philosophically, as we walk back up Highgate Hill. “But you have to commit to it. There’s a lot more to being in a band than writing songs, you know. There’s always something that needs throwing out of the window, someone who needs flicking on the nose, and that line’s not going to snort itself. While Noel took the route of being Macca, I took the route of being Keith Moon and I’m very proud of that. And I did a bit of singing. Do you know what I mean?”

He looks at me, before nodding in agreement with himself. “You know what I mean.”

Liam Gallagher plays Glastonbury Festival on June 24. His solo album, As You Were, is released in the autumn

The Times Written by  Will Hodgkinson Published on 24 June 2017

#liam gallagher #interview #the times

[allyroams-blog]

When Uganda Go, Uganda Go!

Hello family and friendsicles!!

Congratulations on making it here. You’ve found me :)

I’m writing this first post from seat 62H on the largest airplane I think I’ve ever been on – some sort of Airbus that feels a bit more like Miss Frizzel’s Magic School Bus. It’s fully double-decker, but only the fancy business and first class people are allowed upstairs. Tragic, I know. I tried putting on my most charming smile as I walked passed the stewardesses manning the gilded staircase up to Where The Rich People Are in hopes of getting a last minute upgrade, but alas, to no avail. So here I am, back in cattle class (as my father lovingly calls it), sitting next to a charming couple from Bangladesh and counting down the 12 hours and 30 minutes of flight #1 to Dubai (which will be followed by another glorious 6 hours of air travel to Entebbe and then a drive to Kampala). It’s been 30 minutes and they’ve already invited me to stay with their family in Dhaka, so who knows what the next 12 hours will bring.

BUT ANYWAYS: It’s been a long time since I wrote a blog, hasn’t it?! Almost 3 years now. But then again, I haven’t had much time to write recently. The past three years have largely been a blur of prepping for and then diving headfirst into medical school. And while it’s certainly been a life-changing year, between the barrage of new wonderful friends I’ve made, lectures I’ve watched on two-time speed, and debates I’ve had over how the renin-angiotensin-aldosterone system works [conclusion: it’s witchcraft], none of that is exactly the stuff of nail-biting blog posts. So let’s fast forward…

I somehow managed to pass my first year of medical school [a True Miracle], which means I now have eight weeks of summer holiday to enjoy before I head back to the hospital [for more or less the rest of my life]. I’m sure it comes as no surprise to most of you that I’ve chosen to spend my last summer break heading off to explore a new part of the world – this time 7,000 miles away from the place I call home.

NYU has this marvelous program called IHP (International Health Program) that offers 1st year medical students funding to conduct a research project anywhere in the world of their choosing. The choice for me was an easy one: Uganda, to work with TERREWODE, an NGO that my dear college mentor, Dr. Lewis Wall introduced me to. The organization is devoted to eliminating obstetric fistula in Uganda. Those of you that know me well know that I’ve been interested in obstetric fistula for ages now, ever since I first met Dr. Wall (who has devoted much of his life to helping women who suffer from obstetric fistula). Learning about the global health disparities and systemic gendered issues surrounding the continued prevalence of fistulas in underdeveloped areas of the world is what ignited my interest in global women’s health, led me to medical anthropology, and in many ways led me back to the U.S. to pursue a medical degree. It’s been my constant driver. So of course, it just made sense that I would use this wonderful opportunity to meet and learn from the women who have suffered from obstetric fistula and those who serve them firsthand.

While I’m in Uganda, I’ll be leading a research project that looks into what resources Ugandan women cured of obstetric fistula need to successfully reintegrate back into their communities. While I couldn't possibly overstate the importance of access to preventative care and surgical repair enough, often women who are ostracized from their communities due to their condition need more than just a surgery to return to their communities healthy and empowered. My job is to help figure out what that ‘more’ is.

I’ve done a lot of prep work Stateside, but as with all international health research, there still seems to be a million and one variables that are up in the air. I’ve been reminded time and time again by my advisors at NYU that uncertainty is a normal part of international health research – particularly amongst novice researchers. But still, it’s a strange brain-space to occupy: on one hand, I’m both super excited to throw myself into a new culture and itching to get started on my project; but on the other hand, I really have no idea what I’m in for. I don’t know much about who I’ll be working with, what the work will look like day-to-day, or even really what sort of accommodations I’ll be staying in (other than the address - Plot 895 [which my friends find absolutely hysterical]). But I’m trying to embrace the unknowns and go into this whole new experience with an open heart and as few expectations as possible.

I thought I’d be nervous leaving JFK this morning, but funny enough I haven’t felt a touch of nerves yet. In fact, I couldn’t stop smiling as I walked through the airport [I’m sure I looked entirely certifiable]. I don’t know what the next 6 weeks has in store for me, but I do know that it’ll turn my world upside down. I’m hoping I’m useful there and able to do some good. I’m hoping it grounds me. I’m hoping it reminds me why I’ve decided to devote myself to a career in medicine. And of course, I’m hoping it’ll be buckets of fun.

The goal is to have enough spotty internet access to update this blog every once in a while with a story or two or at least a few photos. I should have weekends free, so I’m hoping to spend a decent amount of time traveling and exploring all that Uganda has to offer [yes, including their world-famous primate reserves…I am pissing myself with excitement...judge as you will, but the Dian Fossey in me will never die]. I’m actually really excited about getting back to my DSLR…I’ve been reading up on photography skillz and techniquez and I’m determined to make National Geographic jealous.

Theoretically, if I make it through this whole debacle alive, I’ll be back in the US of A on August 15 :) 

So if you’re interested in staying up to date with what I’m up to over the next 6 weeks, you’re in the right place! Stay tuned!

Until then…all of my love!

[marulikestea]

Indochina Trip - Bangkok, Thailand

Last November of 2015 (Yes, two friggin years ago, huhu), my friends and I embarked on an 8-day journey to Indochina. Though we say Indochina, we actually just visited three countries: mainly Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. The reason behind this trip, aside from the fact there was a ticket promo from Cebu Pacific Airlines, was because Arlyn and I wanted to experience travelling abroad for the first time. As for me, I’ve always dreamed of going to Cambodia due to their ancient ruins, so having that country as part of our destination was definitely a bonus, as well as an incentive.

Originally, there were five of us who were supposed to be going, but unfortunately, the tickets got sold fast so Denise was only able took three.

So it ended up with only us females. :<  

For the trip planning, we equally divided the task of coming up with an itinerary, wherein each of us had an assigned country to deal with. Mine was Cambodia (naturally), Denise was Thailand, and Vietnam for Arlyn. Since Arlyn and I had no prior experience traveling outside the country, Denise took it upon herself to book our hotels for each country. Aww, thanks so much mommy Denise~ <3

Anyway, since blogging all 3 countries in one go would be a total chore, I decided to discuss each nation separately in the following posts. So for this one, it will only focus on our stay in Thailand adventure. Be warned though, there will be major photodump ahead.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. 

FLIGHT TO THAILAND

Our flight departure was in the evening (9:35pm) but Arlyn and I got to the airport several hours earlier (as commonly practiced). Denise was the last to arrive, lol. 

We had our dinner at Tapa King before going to the waiting area of the terminal.

Took a photo of us at the airport with my old crappy samsung galaxy 1 cellphone. I was black-haired back then. ;P

Our flight got delayed a bit due to various reasons, but we were able to depart eventually. After a few hours in transit, we finally arrived at Bangkok, Thailand.

My flight ticket. :3

Upon our touchdown, we took an airport taxi (200 THB) to drive us to our hotel destination. Since it was already past midnight, there was no traffic at all. So we were able to have a smooth ride while marveling at the city’s night lights.

I must admit, even from the airplane window view during landing, Thailand’s night lights differ so much from Philippines; having more of a white-ish organized glow compared to our yellowish scattered embers. Nevertheless it gave me this alienated but excited sort-of feeling; an emotion that served as further proof that I was no longer home.   

BANGKOK CITY HOTEL

After our long ride from the airport, we finally arrived at Bangkok City hotel. Transaction went rather smoothly, since their staff were well-versed in the English language. So after verifying our reservation, we then checked-in to our room, dumped our luggage on our individually-claimed space and slept like a log for a few hours before our call time at 6:00 am. 

When 6:00 am came, we got ourselves ready for the hotel’s breakfast buffet.

According to Denise, this hotel has been suggested by one of her acquaintances due to its breakfast buffet feature. And evidently enough, when we got to the lobby, almost all the dining tables were already occupied by tourists and other hotel occupants, and the buffet line stretching as far as the table could go.

 After a few minutes of searching for open seats, a table has finally been vacated. Like a hawk, we zeroed in on the spot and secured it for ourselves. We took turns in getting food while someone remained to guard territory. 

But apparently, that didn’t seem enough because in one occasion, a seat got stolen from us by some random Chinese tourist right under our noses. During that time, Denise was on the buffet line while Arlyn and I were busy chatting with each other. Then we just realized that the chair where Denise was suppose to occupy was suddenly taken. It happened all so fast that we weren’t able to react, lol. Luckily, we were able to get another seat for her when she returned. Since then, we vowed to never again get slighted by the likes of those ill-mannered tourists who can’t even ask for permission before taking someone’s chair. Tsk.

Setting that aside, food was very delicious and we certainly had our stomachs filled to the brim and satisfied.

Our hotel room.

We then went back to our room to take a bath and prepare our stuff for the first agenda of the day.

DAY 1

We took a cab to our first destination: the grand palace complex. Our cab driver, who was probably friendly and chatty by nature, thought that we were from Malaysia. After telling him that we were from the Philippines, he said that he had Filipino passengers in the past and continued to talk about stuff that I can no longer recall lol. The ride cost us 200 THB and was paid in full when we reached our drop off point. As expected, even arriving early, there was already a huge crowd of buzzing tourists who had the same agenda as us.

Welp, on to the ticket booth then.

GRAND PALACE COMPLEX

“The Grand Palace complex was established in 1782 and it consists of not only the royal residences and throne halls, but also a number of government offices as well as the renowned Temple of the Emerald Buddha. It covers an area of 218,000 square meters and is surrounded by four walls, 1900 meters in length.”, as said in the pamphlet guide. 

Our entrance ticket worth 500 Baht.

View of "Wat Phra Kaew" from the outside of its protective walls.

Even before we went to Thailand, the three of us were already aware that most of the places we were going to visit were temples or structures that are highly respected and revered  by the locals; thus it was advised that we wore decent clothing. Alas, Denise sleeveless top was deemed unacceptable by the palace guard (even with a shawl as cover), so she was forced to buy a shirt to wear instead so we could proceed inside, LOLOLOLOL.

Denise in her new instant-souvenir-shirt. So tourist-y~ XD

Thotsakhirithon, Demonic guards (or yakshas) at the temple entrance

From left to right: Phra Sri Rattana Chedi, Phra Mondop and Prasat Phra Dhepbidorn (The Royal Pantheon)

A closer look of the buildings... sort of.

Entrance to Phra Mondop, with guardians

Trying to be spiderman, eh birdie? ;P

A mini-replica of Angkor Wat in Cambodia.

Woot! Tourist mode! :3

Even from afar, the emblem of the Chakri dynasty (three-bladed sword in a sharpened disc) on the door is still visible.

The Chakri Maha Prasat hall

BOAT RIDE TO NOWHERE

After we finished our sweaty stroll inside the palace, we left the premises to continue to our next destination. Seeing as we had no idea how to get there, we stopped and asked for directions.

Which led to one of the worst decisions we have ever done in our stay in this country.

The person we’ve asked directions from insisted that we take a boat ride around the city, so as to experience a better feel and understanding of their city and culture. While pointing to the map we held with a guiding finger, he further explained that riding a boat through the river would take us to all the hot spots Bangkok had to offer, and at the same time recommending a particular boat service that offered a much cheaper price compared to the usual fee being charged. Being the gullible tourists that we were, we agreed to such stupidity and paid 900 THB each for this “chance of the lifetime”...

...Only to see nothing of importance, get bored and sleepy, and waste a large sum of money that we could have used for buying souvenirs or food.

UGGGHHHHHHH.

The expensive boat ride around the city. Ngiti nalang mga bes, huhu

To those who plan on having a boat ride around the city, I advice against it because it’s a total waste of time and money. (’ -_-)>

When that long ordeal was over, we were dropped off near the souvenir shacks by the docks, just a few blocks away from Wat Pho. But because it was already lunch time and the 3 of us were utterly famished, we took a short break and ate affordable lunch from the local street vendors. 

Reminds me of the karinderyas back in the Philippines. ;3

My lunch: beef noodle soup for 50 THB. :P

WAT ARUN

We were suppose to go here as indicated in the itinerary, but sadly, the place was undergoing renovation and restoration at the time, so we opted to skip this part.

WAT PHO

For our next (and last; huhu, wat arun whyyyy) destination of the day, we went to Wat Pho, the oldest and largest Buddhist temple in Bangkok where the famous Reclining Buddha resides. It houses the largest collection of Buddha images in the country as well.

Wat Pho is also the oldest learning center in Bangkok. It is also the birthplace of traditional Thai massage.

Wat Pho entrance ticket for 100 Baht, with complimentary bottle of water. 

The side entrance.

“Welcome to Wat Pho”

The Bell Tower.

For those who are directionally challenged... like me. >.>

Koi party~

Denise strikes again, lol! Better cover those arms before going inside the temple mah dear~

The Reclining Buddha in Viraha Hall

Measuring 46 meters long nad 15 meters high, this golden statue is something first-time visitors must see in Bangkok.

Look at that enormous golden beauty...

Reclining Buddha in a different angle.

Detailed paintings that depict their history and culture adorned its walls.

Temple Grounds

Aside from its main highlight, the vicinity inside is worth exploring. Similar to the grand palace complex, intricate architectural designs and several golden buddha statues lined up together can be seen here.

Colorful Chedis that are said to contain the ashes of the members of the Thai royal family. Four of these are dedicated to the previous kings of Chakri dynasty.

A Golden Buddha altar inside Phra Ubosot.

Phra Prang (tower) at the corner inside Phra Rabiang

A line of golden Buddha images in the cloister.

Entrance of Phra Mondob.

When it was beginning to get dark and the feeling of our legs were turning into hard lead from all that walking, we “threw in the white towel” and headed back to our hotel to take a short rest before dinner.

NIGHT STROLL AT KHAO SAN ROAD

When night came, we took a 100 THB taxi ride from our hotel to Khao San Road, a famous district where backpackers and tourists alike go to eat food and buy souvenirs.

One of Denise’s goals in Thailand was to eat their famous ‘Pad Thai’. Luckily, there was this pretty lady who was cooking such a dish (in such high speed and precision!) so we ordered 3 servings from her for 50 THB each. 

The Pad Thai queen in her element.

There weren’t any tables and chairs available for eating like the ones we were accustomed to see at food courts, so we had no choice but to take a table reserved to a particular restaurant. Of course, the waiter (who looked rather annoyed at us) spotted us and asked (or demanded? can’t remember) if we were going to buy anything, so we bought a bottle of water for 29 THB so he wouldn’t have to kick us out. Hahaha, business is business after all. Wish I could have seen him do that to the other foreigners taking advantage of their tables. ;P

Aside from our dinner, I also bought a pomegranate juice for 40 THB and a coconut ice cream worth 20 THB for dessert.

Coconut ice cream with coco crunch and chocolate syrup on top. XD

Not one to miss such an opportunity when a horde of clothes are being sold everywhere from left to right, I browsed through every booth on the street and was rewarded from the search with a sleeveless cat-printed shirt, which I bought for 100THB.

Vintage style by Indy - Recession Over!

We also decided to get a Thai massage too, to feel the authentic experience first hand. Therefore we paid 150 THB each and got on top of the mattresses...

...only to be brutally tenderized by these Thai masseurs who didn't know the meaning of pain. DX

To those of you who are not aware of what a Thai massage is, here's a perfect description of it from Wikipedia:

"Traditional Thai massage uses no oils or lotions. The recipient remains clothed during a treatment. There is constant body contact between the giver and receiver, but rather than rubbing on muscles, the body is compressed, pulled, stretched and rocked." 

How I wish I 'd have known this piece of info before subjecting my poor body to torture, lol. Oh, don't get me wrong, the massage did indeed healed whatever tension or stress my muscles were subjected into, but the process of getting there was total SUFFERING.

I literally felt like a pretzel dough being kneaded, stretched, and pounded by a brutal patisserie, lol. At first I was anxious because I've never had a massage before. And since the one in charge of me was male, I had reservations being touched on my body.

Well, My reservations couldn't have been any more wrong.

Such concerns were useless and soon disappeared because there was nothing sexual about it at all  (bless their professionalism and shame on my dubious heart) . It was just pure... pain, so intense, that when the masseur asked if it was painful, I was utterly speechless. Arlyn, who was beside me, was already pounding her pillows, and not out of happiness ROFL.

That massage session made me realize that it was possible to crack bones in some parts of my body which I never knew were possible. It was a  totally eye-opening experience. >.<

After that ordeal, I've never felt so cheated by those posters of relaxed females who seem to be feeling good when having Thai massage. A piece of advice: don't be fooled by them. Hmph!

Anyway, since it was getting late and had ran out of things to do, not to mention having our bodies turned to jell-o from the berserker massage (lol, get it?), we agreed to go back to the hotel (via 67THB worth of taxi fair) to get a good night's rest.

DAY 2

AYUTTHAYA

For our second day itinerary in Bangkok, we were suppose to go to Ayutthaya. We even rode 2 trains to get to the train terminal for it. 

Instead of cards, one of their train lines use a token that has a built-in chip for scanning. So neat! XP

Unfortunately however, there was an issue in our schedule, since we didn't take into account the timetable of the train that would take us to the aforementioned UNESCO heritage site.

Because we didn't want to push it and ending up messing our itinerary, we decided to forego with Ayutthaya and just go shopping. Denise mentioned that the ruins were similar to Cambodia's Angkor Wat so it wouldn't be a total loss.

MBK CENTER

Having enough free time due to the cancellation of our Ayutthaya plan, we took a taxi to MBK Center, one of the famous shopping malls in Bangkok for its variety of goods being sold at an affordable price. 

Of course, with that being said, we bought our souvenirs here. Here's a list of some of the stuff I bought:

Magnets for 100 THB

Barquillos snack for 10 THB

Tamarind for 250 THB

2 Chapter clothes and woodprints for 950 THB

Olive green deer shirt (for Ian) for 200 THB

Cute cat shirt in mint green for 200 THB 

One out of the two lovely wood prints that I bought for myself. The other one, I gave to Ian. <3

Unfortunately, some of the items I intended to buy were a bit pricier compared to the ones I saw near the shops at Wat Pho. So I asked Arlyn and Denise if we could return (after dropping our stuff in the hotel first), and have lunch there in the process. They were kind enough to comply to my selfish request. <3 

And as usual, here’s the list of what I bought in that place:

bundle magnets for 200 THB

patterned pouch for 100 THB

mini statue for 100 THB

artwork for 250 THB

fan hat for 100 THB 

Going to another country has always been a major dream of mine since I'm the only one in my family who haven't set foot yet on a foreign soil. So to commemorate such a big leap forward in my personal goals, I've decided to buy myself a piece of the country I've been to, as a remembrance of the memory.

And keychains and magnets were out of the question.

So I bought the one thing that would represent the country's culture, and at the same time cater to one of the hobbies that I love: art.

Yes, I bought artworks. And here's one that I hand-picked: :3

Artwork of buddha.

When we were satisfied with the items we've purchased for ourselves and for our loved ones, we walked a bit to the area where food vendors and kiosks were stationed together. Imitating the other tourists there, we bought our food (mine cost around 110 THB) ala-"turo-turo" style. We then looked for a shaded corner with seats and ate happily while watching foreigners pass by.

Can you spot where I am in this pic? :P

For our dessert, we bought sticky rice (50 THB), which was recommended to Denise by one of her acquaintances. It's basically almost like suman with ripe mango, topped with condensada.

Totally yum!

Once we were finished with our affairs, we headed back to our hotel to make our preparations for our trip to Cambodia the following day. While I was organizing my stuff, I realized something dreadful that demanded immediate attention and solution: I ran out of Thai money.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~

Due to my souvenir-hunt splurging (and also, curse you damn boat ride!), I mismanaged my funds and therefore didn't have enough money to buy transpo tickets for our trip the following day. Echoing my despair to my 2 friends (who were also low on money), we went back to MBK Center to exchange dollar to baht.

Since we wanted to save money and the mall was a walking distance from our hotel, we did just that: walk. The distance was similar to going to Trinoma mall from my condo.

I thought my problems were solved once we got to the mall, but the universe had its own way of amusing itself.

And making me suffer in the process.

We went to 3 money exchange places, but it was either they ran out of money or they were already closed. We literally went to every nook and crany of the shopping center to exchange money but it was the same thing.

Running out of time and feeling quite desperate, I was at the tipping point of my panic when we arrived at our final money exchange booth. Good news was, they were still open. Bad news was...

Well...

Uh.. I’ve already forgotten the actual details of it, so LOL.

But from what I can remember, it involved using our local money to exchange it to baht. Haha. Talk about repressing a bad memory hahahaha. 

So when the whole shenanigans was finally done, we walked back to our hotel, but not before stopping by at 7 Eleven first to buy cheap dinner (Got smoked salmon onigiri for 28 THB) and some toothpaste that tasted salty when we got to try it. It was weird, to be honest.

We ate at our room after we came back and enjoyed our last night at Bangkok, Thailand.

A final view of Bangkok from our hotel, before our departure to Cambodia.

#travel #personal #indochina #thailand #bangkok #wat pho #grand palace complex #mbk center #philippines

[radramblog]

Things on my walls, rated

Look, I’m due a little inanity every so often. Them’s the rules, I can do what I want.

I guess there’s something to be said about what you decorate your walls with. Those in my bedroom are an odd mix of things from various ages of my life, a silly mix of ephemera along with a few things that have actual meaning.

I’m going to rate them, not objectively, but subjectively, obviously.

 10. Doctor Who poster

The period of my life when I was into Posters and the period of my life when I gave a shit about Doctor Who was a significant enough overlap that when I got the posters up in here, this was one of them. I don’t really know what I was thinking. This is basically just a collection of references to various episodes, and it’s not particularly funny or interesting. One of them is just one of the episode titles! Granted that episode fucks but still!

Also Eccleston>Tennant, fight me.

 9. 2006 Collage

(no image, just in case.)

At the small international school I attended in Malaysia, they really went through people as families immigrated and emigrated from the small town in which it resides. Despite this, the place had a real sense of community, and as such, whenever someone left people got together to make a photo collage of them with all the kids in their year. I know my brother still has his somewhere.

The thing is, I have very little sentimental attachment to it at this point. It’s been almost 15 years since I saw any of these people, and I was literally 7-8 years old at that point. It’s a bunch of people I knew very briefly, and in some cases, knew I didn’t like for what I’m pretty sure was basically no reason. It’s a reminder of how I was shittier as a kid, I guess.

This is the only actual photo in the room. I don’t really keep physical photos.

 8. First Order Pennant

A Christmas gift from my aunt, who apparently got it in Japan? I think? I’m not actually sure what the technical name for it is, I know it isn’t a pennant, but that’s what I’m calling it.

It’s definitely not something I would have bought for myself, I didn’t care that much about the sequel trilogy (this would have been before VII/VIII came out). But, I have a very distinct memory of having a great time watching the original with her and the fam last time I was up in California, so I suppose that’s the reason.

On the one hand, this has Kylo Ren on it, and ew. On the other, it has Captain Phasma on it, and she’s cool. Iunno.

 7. Giant, Fuckoff abstract art

A big-ass painting hanging over my bed. Mum got it to spruce up the décor, and I guess because her wallet felt a bit heavy.

I…don’t know enough about art to know what to say about it. I like the colours? The glossy texture is pretty impressive to pull off in this medium, probably. It feels kinda oceanic- like if you told me that this was actually a photo from above of an oil spill in a reef, I’d believe you.

 6. Dark Petition Print

A print of art from a Magic card I really like, framed and everything. I got this in exchange for helping clear out and move all the stuff from my LGS when it closed down. RIP Rabblemaster Games.

It’s technically not attached to the wall, but only because I’m pretty sure the folks’d have a fit if I tried drilling it in somewhere. Also, the frame’s kind of a piece of shit, so if I did I’d want it reframed.

5. and 4.- Linkin Park and Radiohead posters

I can’t decide between these two bands, man. One is objectively better, one has much more nostalgia.

Got these at the same time as the Doctor Who one. The LP one I believe is from the Minutes to Midnight era (so, late 00s) based on the logo, whereas the Radiohead one is extremely Kid A. And frankly, the Radiohead one is way fucking cooler. I adore the scratchy art and typography on this thing.

That’s probably why I’m putting the Radiohead one slightly ahead. Poster’s just cooler. Also it’s fallen down the least times by far, so it’s in the best shape!

 3. M.C. Escher Print

This might also be art, but I know who M.C. Escher is, I’ve been to the museum, that’s where we got this print. I’ve had it for a long time, but only relatively recently did it get framed and put up on the wall, right above my desk.

I love me some symmetry and some patterning, and so this particular piece resonates with me. Also, I think kid me had it remind him of a Chessboard, and I loved that aesthetic for some reason, so that helped.

Oh, to be a bird formed from the morphing of a patterned landscape.

 2. Calendar

I’m going to be honest, this is this high for practical reasons. It’s just extremely useful to have a calendar next to where you do all your best work, as it turns out. Add in some extremely personable Aussie wildlife into the mix, and it’s just all upsides.

I’ve peeked ahead for the next couple months, and the animals are all bangers. White lipped tree frog into Diamond Python into the man the myth the marsupial, the one and only Numbat. Extremely keen to have that looking upon my works (and hopefully not despairing).

 1. An old advertisement

This is something I saw at an op shop one day, and knew I had to have. It’s so extremely fucking cool. Didn’t see a price on it, took it to the front asking if it was for sale, the cashier helpfully pointed out the little “12” on the back corner, and I figured that was worth it.

This is a woodblock printed advertisement for a showing of the Rocky Horror Show from the 80s. Specifically 1982, as I have definitely determined before but I had to look up again.

I believe I picked this up not long after having seen the musical in person myself, and greatly enjoying it. If you haven’t seen Rocky Horror- the story (film/musical/etc) is deliberately nostalgic and pulpy, so having an old ad for it adorn my wall just feels right.

Or in this case, my wardrobe door, because there was a hook on there I could hang it on. My dressing gown can live somewhere else, it’s fiiiiine.

 Anyway that’s everything. Catch me framing some shit soon lmao

#ramble #personal (i guess) #man i just realised i never framed my bachelor's oops

[tyleroakley-obsessed]

Ed. Note: Wesley is back with another roundup of Memphis live music and fresh commentary for December’s concerts – everything from beloved rockers Lucero to pop superstar Ariana Grande to songstress D’Monet. Got a show to suggest for a future “Listen Up” guide to live music in Memphis? Just email me at [email protected] with the subject line “Listen Up”.  If you’re looking for holiday performances and live concerts, check out the Holiday Events Guide. If you’re wanting some Christmas music, check out the “Holidays In Memphis” Spotify playlist here. Here are some shows that you may get excited about, and a few that I’m excited about, happening in December. DECEMBER 2 We the Kings at Growlers 7:30 p.m., all ages, $25 My partner Erin volunteers to help me write these lists by sending me links to shows by bands that I’d normally ignore. Not out of malice, usually, but ignorance. This is one of them. We the Kings is an emo/pop punk band from Florida who’ve been consistently releasing music since 2007. They had a Billboard Hot 100 song with Demi Lovato a decade ago.They’ll be at Growlers supported by Florida brethren Northbound and local bands Fear. The Sparrow, and Brother Levee. If you’re excited about the MCR reunion, maybe check this one out.  DECEMBER 5 Tobe Nwigwe at Minglewood Hall 7 p.m., all ages, $25+ “I grew up with gangstas that had more lean on ‘em than Mike Jack in Smooth Criminal,” Tobe Nwigwe raps on his song “BOUNTIFUL.” The flow doesn’t quite hit right, but it’s still a pretty funny line. There are plenty of those on Nwigwe’s tracks, which slap. You can also buy tickets for a “Private Dining Experience” with him and his cohort for anywhere from $500-$800. I love this guy.  DECEMBER 7 Ariana Grande at FedExForum 8 p.m., all ages probably, $42+ Ariana Grande likes to wear makeup to appear racially ambiguous, but you know what’s not made up or ambiguous? The critical and commercial success of her latest album Sweetener and its world tour. FedExForum is one of the tour’s last stops, so this is one of your last chances to hear some perfectly precision-crafted pop hits. (Ed. Note: This show is the same day at the St. Jude Memphis Marathon, so expect downtown to be nuts.) DECEMBER 8 The Get Up Kids at Growlers 7 p.m., all ages, $20 via Facebook To be honest, I could copy & paste the blurb about We the Kings and replace some band names for this one, but that’d be unfair. The Get Up Kids is a more-famous emo/pop punk band that I also had never listened to before Erin suggested listing them. Once again, if you’re excited about the MCR reunion, maybe check this one out.  DECEMBER 10 Rob Jungklas at The Green Room 7:30 p.m., all ages, $10 7 Sisters by Rob Jungklas Memphian Rob Jungklas is a hard-working man. Not just because he’s been recording and releasing music since the early 80s (including the 1986 track “Make it Mean Something” which broke into the Billboard Hot 100), but also because he taught school for a decade. I got nothing but love for the educators. He also makes some very solid music! Just during casual listens of various songs on his Bandcamp I thought “Huh, he kinda reminds me of Michael Stipe”, but then I’d hear a song and think, “Huh, he kinda sounds like Son House.” Then I looked at his portrait and thought, “Huh, he kinda looks like Jeremy Irons.” That’s pretty cool.  DECEMBER 13 Lucero at Minglewood Hall 7 p.m., all ages, $21+ Lucero via All Eyes Media We seen ‘em, we love ‘em, somebody over at AMC really loves ‘em. It’s Lucero. You can’t even call them a local band anymore,  they’re just a Band. Did you know there’s a Mexican singer and actress also named Lucero? And if you search “Lucero” on YouTube, this is the first result? And YouTube lists our Lucero’s tour dates underneath her video? Do I smell a collab? (Ed. Note: The Nashville newspaper once published an article about a Memphis Lucero show accompanied by a photo of the Mexican Lucero and it was incredible.) DECEMBER 15 Folk All Y’all: Cory Branan’s Birthday Show at The Green Room 7:30 p.m., all ages, $20 Last year, Wide Open Country called Cory Branan an “alt-country troubadour”, which is both true and untrue. His music can definitely be called “alt-country”, but I listened to a bit of his 2017 album ADIOS and was surprised at how much genre mingling there is going on there. I was ready for heartland good ol’ boy dreck but instead I got some punchy, punky tunes about racist cops and death and going to Hell. Good for you, Cory.  DECEMBER 17 Annabelle PLAYE at the Hi-Tone Cafe 7:30 p.m., all ages, $10 Annabelle Playe – WeSA Festival 2018 from wesa on Vimeo. Music concrète is an experimental music movement originating in France in the early 20th century which you can read a bit more about here. I’m not an expert on the subject, but from what I do know, I believe Annabelle PLAYE fits the bill. Robert Trexler, who is also performing that night and is the founder of the Memphis Concrète Music Festival, seems to agree. She’s also French, so there you go. Solid walls of electronic bleeps, bloops, buzzes, and gurgles are expected, as are some trippy visuals to heighten the experience.  DECEMBER 21 D’Monet at The Green Room 7:30 p.m., all ages, $10 Ayyyy must be D’Monet! I’m sorry. Anyway, D’Monet is a soul singer with a malleable, refined voice, holds a BA in Vocal Music Performance from our very own LeMoyne Owen College, and has travelled the world training and performing with all kinds of folks. She’s got the skills to back up her resume, and I’m not sure there’s ever been a more perfect artist to perform in The Green Room. Check the video above to see her performing at Crosstown Arts. DECEMBER 27 Scarface at the 1884 Lounge in Minglewood Hall 8:00 p.m., 18+, $25+ Scarface, one-third of the classic Geto Boys roster (R.I.P. Bushwick Bill) and one of the best rappers of all time is playing with a full band at Minglewood. The show poster shows him tuning a Telecaster and I’m losing my mind. A lil’ twangy-ass Tele! I didn’t even know he played guitar. Some of the best shows I’ve ever been to or watched were rappers with full backing bands. “On My Block” with a band would probably be great. About The Author Wesley Morgan Paraham is a Memphis native, a University of Memphis graduate, freelance writer and PR professional who spends most of his free time in his Midtown apartment playing video games with his partner. Are you a home owner in Memphis, with a broken garage door? Call ASAP garage door today at 901-461-0385 or checkout https://ift.tt/1B5z3Pc

https://ilovememphisblog.com/2019/11/listen-up-9-live-music-shows-in-memphis-this-month-december-2019/

#I Love Memphis

[anamuseinglife]

Iditapod: Taking 24-hour rests, as Aliy takes the lead

Aliy Zirkle: Sure. Name of the race is Iditarod, why not go to Iditarod. I haven’t been there in a long time.

[theme music plays]

Casey Grove: Welcome to the Iditapod, a podcast about the Iditarod that aims to take you out on the trail. I’m your host, Casey Groves, and before we take you out on the trail, why not a word from our sponsor?

[ad plays]

CG: Well, everybody, the frontrunners made it into Ophir Wednesday morning, and all along the trail mushers are starting to declare their 24 hour rests; as Iditarod declare those rests, Girdwoods Nicolas Petit - he took second place last year, let me remind you - he pushed back into the lead, and reached the ghost town checkpoint of Ophir about 1 am Wednesday. He was trailed by Two Rivers musher Aliy Zirkle and Nenana musher Jessie Holmes. But, it appears, according to the GPS tracker, that Aliy Zirkle, as I’m recording this Wednesday morning, is leading the Iditarod, it looks like she took off out of Ophir before Nicolas Petit, that is based on a look at the GPS tracker at Iditarod.com. As I’m recording this, the current standings in the race - that’s the list of when mushers arrive and leave which checkpoints - that has not been updated to reflect that Aliy is in the lead, but I believe that to be true. Anyway, the trio that had been leading the race, they declared their 24 hour rest immediately after turning into Takotna. That is a nice place known for its pies and hospitality, I can tell you that firsthand. It’s a little over 20 miles before the mushers reach Ophir. And the first one in there was Joar Leifseth Ulsom, followed by Jessie Royer and Pete Kaiser. So, Tuesday night, a little after 7, Ulsom led that first set of mushers into Takotna.

[dogs barking]

Unknown male voice: 24

Unknown female voice: Declaring 24, alright

CG: Ulsom’s team parked in one of the choice spots for a long term rest, against the wall of a community hall, out of the way of the wind. About an hour later, Jessie Royer pulled in. Jessie said she always takes her 24 at Takotna, and her team has a little bit of a routine there.

Jessie Royer: They know where they’re going. They’re already headed to the church.

CG: It’s a quiet spot near the building, where the mushers sleep, but unfortunately the deep snow there was punchy, and the checkers were finding other areas for dogs. For Royer, the decision to stop at Takotna is part of her overall race.

JR: It’s where I 24 every year [laughs] so not a whole lot of thought behind it. Mostly, just a really good spot, um, for both a musher and dogs. I’ve been here enough that I kinda know where I want, where I like to stay, although apparently this year it’s a little different. It’s just so convenient here, so it’s easy to take care of the dogs fast. So I can get more sleep to.

CG: Little while later, Pete Kaiser arrived, parking his dogs not far from Royer. And hot on his heels was Nic Petit, who was in the Takotna checkpoint for only a minute and half.

Nic Petit: So you’ve got to sign my book?

CG: Petit was in a rush, he was trying to get all his paperwork signed ASAP, with a dog team that was so amped, they were dragging the sled for about two dozen feet at one point. His big headphones blasted music while his dogs yelped, they were eager to keep running. Zachariah Hughes was in Takotna giving us this report, he said it was pretty hectic. Petit took off before getting any of his drop bags, or even a premade meal to take along with him.

[dogs yelping]

Unknown Male Voice: Need anything out of your bag?

Nic Petit: Nope!

CG: So, after they take their 24, the mushers have another 8 hour rest they have to take at a checkpoint along the Yukon river, and another mandatory stop at White Mountain, that’s about 80 miles from the finish. So that’s a long ways from now. There’s a lot of strategy as to where a musher takes their 24 hour rest, though. That mandatory stop, it’s related to how the Iditarod corrects the race times for that staggered start in Willow. Remember, they don’t just all take off at once. Here’s today’s listener question, it comes to us all the way from England. Take it away, Morgan

Morgan: Hey guys, it’s Morgan, from England. My question is, if the mushers all have a staggered start time at the start of the race, how are the times manipulated so that when it comes to the finish line, it’s the first musher over the line that wins. Any help would be great. Cheers guys. Bye.

CG: It’s a good question, thanks Morgan. We tossed this one to KNOM’s Ben Matheson, who is good with numbers and math and things like that.

Ben Matheson: The short answer is that the start differential is made up at the 24 hour break. And the way the math works is that the musher that left Willow last, in this case bib number 53 Cindy Gallea, will rest exactly 24 hours. Mushers with lower bib numbers will be allowed to leave their 24 hour breaks the equivalent of 2 minutes for each bib place. So, the first musher this year to have left Willow will rest a total of 25 hours and 42 minutes. The longer answer is that the different 24 hour breaks take place over 2 or 3 days, in multiple locations. It becomes difficult to see who’s up front and who’s behind. And then, there’s daylight savings, that takes place early Sunday morning during the race. So I hope everyone is ready to do some math.

CG: Thanks for that, Ben. We appreciate your analytical mind. Speaking of which, Ben does a lot of work with data, you can find some of his work at benmatheson.github.io. Also, I want to mention our twitter handles. Ben is simply @benmatheson, Zach Hughes is @zachhughesak, and I’m @kcgrove. You can also find a lot more reporting at alaskapublic.org. That’s kind of where we house all of our stories and photos. Zach and Ben will be talking to more mushers here as they take those 24 hour rests, I’m interested to hear from Linwood Fiedler, I guess he hit a stump earlier in the race, his sled came unattached from his dogs, and Mats Pettersson actually towed his sled, with him on it, until, in the dark, they found Linwood’s team, all of his dogs together, kind of bunched up. He, in a video at Iditarod insider, described, very emotionally, how he thought there might be some damage to the team, and running along by themselves, not pulling a sled and getting tangled and things.

I’ve also seen some video and pictures of Richie Diehl, who has kind of a black eye right now, because as he was mushing along, he kind of looked away for a second and then got hit in the face by a tree, but he was able to hang on to his sled. Still though, as of Wednesday morning, here we have a full field. Nobody has scratched yet, we have all 52 mushers still in the race. All those mushers are now navigating through warm temperatures and sometimes inconsistent trails though. They’re racing deep into the heart of Alaska’s interior. The teams are gearing up for the push through the emptiest parts of trail. You heard from an amped up Nic Petit earlier, but we’re going to go back to McGrath, back in time to Tuesday, and back to KNOM’s Ben Matheson and his report from McGrath. Petit sounded a lot calmer there, feeding his dogs. He told Ben about his loose plan and how he’s been camping out a lot more in this years Iditarod.

[sounds of movement and moving equipment]

Ben Matheson: Nic Petit was first into the McGrath checkpoint.

Unknown male voice: So, what’s your plan?

Nic Petit: I’m gonna hang out here until I decide what my plan is.

Unknown voice: Ok, sounds good

BM: Petit’s afternoon arrival appears to mark the fastest trip to McGrath on the Iditarod books. And now the mushers are beginning to take their 24 hour rests at the checkpoint of their choosing, Petit was not speaking openly about his plan.

NP: I may stay a couple three hours… maybe 24. We’ll see.

BM: He parks in a secluded spot in the trees, one that the checkpoint crew typically saves for teams doing their 24 hour rest. For being the first to McGrath, Petit wins the Spirit of Iditarod Award, with beaded beaver mitts, and a musher hat sewn by McGrath residents. It was the first extended look for many of the Girdwood musher, who has been camping the entire race, and has not stopped at any checkpoint for more than a few minutes.

NP: You know, Rainy Pass is a zoo. I can’t get any rest there, and all the nice people are trying to talk to you. It’s not really constructive.

BM: He’s said in the pass that he allows his team to run at the speed that they want to. In today’s run, he’s said that they reached a blistering 15 miles per hour. But, his competition was moving fast too. While he was resting in the late afternoon, three teams flew through the checkpoint. First, was Joar Leifseth Ulsom. [dogs barking]. Jessie Royer and Pete Kaiser were next through. Aliy Zirkle stopped for what she expected to be a few hours. She’s been working hard to keep her team hydrated during warm, daytime runs. She says that the trail has alternated between good and soft.

Aliy Zirkle: For all the talk of “there’s tons of snow it’s gonna be a slog”, it hasn’t been that bad. But, things can always be badder, worse.

BM: This is the third day of racing, mushers need to be thinking about taking care of their mental and physical state, something that Zirkle was determined to work on during her brief stopover.

AZ: The only thing I’m missing is sleep. I need to sleep a little bit. I’ve had the opportunity and for some reason my body’s been like “no you’re good, you don’t need any!”. Which isn’t true.

BM: As for her 24 plans, she says she’s going all the way to Iditarod this year, some 124 miles down the trail. When past champion Mitch Seavey arrived later in the evening, his decades of experience told him that something was different on the way in.

Mitch Seavey: It felt like that was an extra long route. Just for me?

BM: That’s because Iditarod trail breakers placed the hundreds of reflective stakes along the Iron Dog snow machine route, instead of the normal Iditarod trail. That tooks teams along the long Oxblow bend on the Kuskokwim river, tacking on 8 more miles than mushers had planned. And plan as they may, it’s now decision time on where to take their crucial 24 hour breaks, and ready their teams for the long march to the Yukon river. For KNOM News, I’m Ben Matheson in Mcgrath.

CG: So, sounds like the Iditarod trail this year became maybe a little bit longer than usual, but that’s the way it goes. They’re doing their best out there, trying to mark that trail and make sure that everybody stays on it. You heard from Nic Petit there, in McGrath, that was earlier in the race of course. We have an extended cut of that interview posted here as a bonus episode of the Iditapod (note: link to that transcript is here - https://pdxjenni.tumblr.com/post/183282060394/iditapod-bonus-episode-interview-with-nic-petit) and there’s one in the works with Aliy Zirkle (transcript link: http://anamuseinglife.tumblr.com/post/183282961791/iditapod-bonus-mcgrath-interview-with-aliy-zirkle) and I’ll be putting that out here shortly today.

It’s really interesting to see her leading the race. Of course, women have won the Iditarod in the past, there was a long string of wins between Libby Riddles and Susan Butcher that led to the saying “Alaska: where men are men, and women win the Iditarod”. But, a woman hasn’t won the Iditarod since Susan Butcher did it in 1990. This year, we have the highest percentage of women in the Iditarod, so maybe this is the year that we crown another female musher as champion. A lot of people out there rooting for Aliy Zirkle from Two Rivers. She’s mushing out in the lead as I record this, and she’s finished in second three different times. A lot of good mushing from her in the past, she’s got a top notch dog team, and there’s a lot of people that are pulling for her.

As always, I want to remind listeners to send us their questions about dog mushing or the Iditarod, you can type those out and send them to [email protected], or if you want a shot at trying to get on the podcast, you can open your smartphone and find you voice memo app, record yourself asking the question, and send that to [email protected]. We’re loving all the great questions, we’re going to be asking mushers some of these questions, Ben and Zach are answering some. We’re going to try to check in with Quince Mountain at some point, he’s out there snow machining along the Iditarod trail, I’m very curious as to how’s he doing. But for now, that is all the time we have. Our theme music: it’s by the band Sassafrass. I’m your host Casey Grove, and until next time - happy trails.

[theme music plays out]

Aliy Zirkle: I uh, I always 24 in Takotna, and, you know, Allen and I were talking and, I kind of think we should shake it up a little, I’ve obviously got one thing a little bit wrong, mmmmmmmm, sounds like a good shake up, huh?

Ben Matheson: I was going to ask about a little bit of diarrhea, I saw?

AZ: I’m doing fine, thank you for asking [all laugh]