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legosi-and-louis-are-in-love · 4 years

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What if Louis had went to Legosi for comfort tho...

Louis stood in front of a drab, rusted metal door. It looked so appropriately plain he couldn’t help but think to smile. His mouth didn’t receive the message, though.

The past few days had been hell for him, to say the least. He couldn’t get the faces in the crowd he had seen at the funeral out of his head. He did not recognize a single one of them aside from the butlers, and aside from them not a single one of those faces seemed to hold any grief. Was he doomed to follow in his father’s footsteps and die with no friends or loved ones?

He recalled that this was the train of thought that brought him here, into this ancient rotting building his closest friend called home. He had never been inside but he knew where it was, and a quick inquiry at the desk had brought him to the appropriate room. It was late enough that he was sure the wolf was home, although no sounds emanated from the room to suggest this.

He had fought the impulse at first. Legosi was busy training. He needed to focus if he was going to win this thing and live. Louis desperately didn’t want Legosi to rely on his other leg. Louis needed to give him space and keep the wolf’s head in the game. Even if it burned him to the core thinking about how quickly he had become attached to his long lost childhood friend who now gave him no time of day.

This was probably the other thought that brought him here. He remembered last year when he derided Juno for being selfish, and she asked him why that was seen as a bad thing. That memory pushed the switch in his mind from ‘no’ to ‘yes’ when he asked himself if he could go see Legosi. He was selfish. He needed to be with someone else right now.

He looked down at his emaciated form, holding his hands up and staring at them. His right hand clenched and moved forward. Slowly but surely, it inched toward the door until it made contact noiselessly. Why was he so nervous? If anything, Legosi always seemed to be the nervous one around him. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to talk to an animal you had eaten a part of. Was it torture for Legosi to be around him? Was this all a big mistake?

No. Louis was selfish. He knocked once, and a thud soon resounded from behind the door. What followed were sounds of scrambling and claws on wood and soft grumbles. His mouth finally caught the signal from before and formed a smile.

The wolf that opened the door had very obviously just woken up. Legosi wore an old t-shirt that he either outgrew or had shrunk in the wash, exposing his soft, fuzzy stomach. Below he wore a simple pair of briefs. His expression turned from tired to tired-yet-surprised when he realized who was in front of him.

“L-Louis-san? Uh...hi! This isn’t...well it’s not...you...”

Louis simply crossed his arms and let the wolf try and figure out what he wanted to say. He was gesticulating frantically, a trademark of his.

“...s-so you see, I wasn’t expecting company, so I don’t have anything to offer you or...”

Louis decided he had let him suffer long enough. With a raise of his slender hand, he hushed the mutt up. “It’s fine. Can we talk?”

Legosi’s irises dilated slightly. “Sure!” He proceeded to not move.

“...inside?”, Louis suggested.

Defeated, Legosi’s ears wilted slightly. “Okay...” He turned around, and Louis noticed his tail wagging lightly. Legosi could have a good pokerface sometimes, but never a good pokerbutt.

Louis commended himself silently for his little joke.

As Legosi had said, the place was a bit of a mess. What little clothes in his possession laid haphazardly along the floor and across some furniture, as they had likely not been picked up when they had been stripped off the wolf’s body. A recently used futon lay in the corner, and immediately to Louis’s right was a stove, minifridge, and small cabinet. Aside from the small table in the center of the room, that’s all Legosi’s home consisted of.

Louis walked over to the only zabuton by the table and sat upon it, leaving Legosi to stand awkwardly for a moment before he opened the cabinet in the “kitchen” area and pulled out a box of crackers and a paper plate. “It’s fine, Legosi. I’m not hungry.”

“Your stomach is growling.” Legosi looked at him with concern, and Louis attempted to cover up his body.

A few seconds later, the gracious feast was placed on the table, and Legosi sat upon his bed, facing Louis. He looked expectantly at him. Louis grabbed a cracker and nibbled at it.

“So, what did you want to talk about, Louis-san?”

Louis placed the barely eaten cracker down. “Well, I just wanted to check in and see how the training is going.”

Legosi’s ears twitched. “Oh! Well, I think it’s going well. Knowing Kyuu-san trained with Gouhin-san gives us a connection. I still don’t think I can hit her, though...”

Louis wanted to cover his ears and scream. Why did he have to ask that question? It was time to switch gears. “So, this dump, eh?”

Legosi cocked his head, unprepared for the sudden subject change. “Well, it’s about the only place I can afford. I had to get rid of my cell phone to even afford it consistently...”

“So that’s why you never asked for my number? We need an easier way to contact each other.” Louis felt lightheaded as he said this. He reached back for his unfinished cracker.

Legosi stared for a moment. “So, you’ve thought about trying to become a Beastar with me?”

Louis finished the cracker. “Sure. We should at least lay some groundwork, no?” “Well, there’s a landline in the lobby you can contact me with.”

“Alright, old man.”

Louis ate from the plate as the room entered silence. Legosi played with the covers beneath him as he very obviously tried not to stare at Louis’s prosthesis, which was showing from where his pant leg was being pulled up by his sitting position.

“My dad died a week ago.”

Both animals held a shocked expression. Louis covered his mouth and looked away. Legosi was on his hands and knees, but still kept his distance.

“Wh-wh-wh-why didn’t you tell me? Are you okay? Do you need anything? Did you have the funeral already? How did it happen?”

The wolf’s endless questions turned into a buzz in Louis’s ears. He just stared blankly at him, feeling numb.

It took a while before he realized Legosi had stopped talking. “It was a car accident. I had to arrange the funeral and pick up all his business dealings. I’m the CEO of Horns now.” He delivered the information in a monotone voice, trying to distance himself from it.

“I-is that why you look so sick?” Legosi, blunt as always.

“I suppose.”

“You need help! Maybe a doctor! Is anybody helping you? You should have told me!”

Louis stared back, noting how Legosi still positioned himself too far away to make contact. He noted his large hands lifting off the floor a few times, but they always found their way back to their original position. He recalled the first Adler performance when he had woken up in the nurse’s office. Weak and frail. Was that how Legosi was seeing him right now.

The image in his mind shifted. Now they were atop a concrete slab outcropped from a bridge on a cold, winter night. Legosi bleeding heavily. The warm feeling in the deer’s eyes back then returned. The wolf in front of him blurred.

Dammit, what was it about him that brought this disgusting feeling?

Seeing the tears drop from the deer’s face caused Legosi’s arms to raise up farther, and he scootched forward on his knees slightly, but alas, he remained out of reach. Louis stayed planted on the zabuton, crying silently.

“Wh-what should I do, Louis-san? Please, tell me what I should do!” Legosi sounded desperate now, and Louis equally so.

“Wh-what can you do?”, he managed through the tears.

“Yes!”

Louis looked Legosi straight in the eyes, brows furrowing, teeth and fists clenched.

“COMFORT ME, GODDAMMIT!”

Pure surprise washed over Legosi’s face, and Louis buried his own in his hands. It was pointless. Legosi couldn’t be what Louis wanted. What he denied he craved. Every time he stared at his large, carnivore body, he disgustingly felt safety instead of danger. He had continuously tried to deny his affinity for carnivores. It was a spit in the face to the suffering he had endured as a child. At best, he should hold power over carnivores to assert his strength. Protection and affection were desires best left in his subconscious. He needed to leave.

Fortunately, Louis found he couldn’t move. He opened his eyes and now found himself tucked snugly between Legosi’s legs. The wolf sat cross-legged on the futon, enveloping the deer as best he could with his limbs while also being conscious of his antlers. His cold nose pressed onto the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder, causing Louis to shiver and grip at the soft, gray fur of his best friend.

The sobbing started. “I-I miss him, Legosi! I miss him so fucking much! I never thought I could miss him this much!”

“I know, Louis-san! It’s okay, I have you! You’re okay!”

Louis choked and gasped. It was amazing, the feeling of Legosi around him. It was something he had unconsciously been desiring ever since that night he and the Shishigumi had found Legosi snooping around in the Black Market. He now understood why he had let that hug go uninterrupted for more than a few seconds. He wouldn’t make the same mistake pf pushing him away this time.

Even if he tried, it would have been fruitless. The wolf had a firm grip on him. If he had been prey, he would have been dead. Louis dragged his snot-filled nose across Legosi’s neck, making pitiful noises. Only Legosi could see this side of him. Just as he had on New Year’s. It was only appropriate.

The light-headedness returned, and Louis saw stars. His arms turned cold as he felt himself go limp.

Louis awoke to the sound of a tea kettle whistling. His head was propped up a bit more than it should have been. The blanket covering him was soft and smelled bad. He looked to his left, and saw Legosi at his oven, pouring hot water into a cup. He perked up when he saw Louis.

“Oh, thank goodness! You’re awake! Here, I have some tea!”

Louis tried to sit up but found he was unable to. Legosi noticed this and went to his side, crouching down and holding the cup down.

Louis stared down at it, feeling the steam on his nose. “I-it’s too hot, Legosi.”

Legosi whined softly and sat down, holding the tiny cup humorously with both of his huge hands. “I got this tea from Sebun-san. She’s my neighbor. She’s taught me a lot about adult living.”

Louis laid his head back as Legosi anxiously rambled. He was well aware of the burden he had placed on the wolf now. But he was selfish, so he tried not to care. The warmth of being held so close returned to his mind. It hadn’t just been a dream. A wall in their relationship crumbled.

“I’ll try that tea now, Legosi.”

“Oh, y-yeah! Sorry.”

The tea tasted bitter, unsurprisingly. Louis never was a fan. He drank down the whole cup, letting the warmth run through him. Not as warm as Legosi had been, sadly.

“You should rest here for the night.” Legosi stood up and went back to the kitchen area, cleaning up. Louis’s eyes followed him, and he noted the rest of the room had been tidied up as well. He felt his heart suddenly hammer in his chest.

“What about you?”

Legosi looked back at his guest. “I can stay at my neighbor Zaguān’s place. He lives a floor above me. It’ll be fine.”

The warmth granted from the tea left Louis’s body. “Legosi.”

He turned to face Louis fully, looking attentive and concerned. “Yes?”

Louis swallowed, and a shaky arm pulled the covers down as he moved his body toward the wall. “Sleep next to me.”

Legosi’s face immediately went flush. “A-ah I-I don’t know if that’s such a good idea!” He was trying to repair the wall they had just worked so hard destroying.

But it was a good thing Louis had accepted the selfish side of himself now. He sat up, willing his eyes to convey all the pleading and want he now felt. He armed his tongue and teeth with a potent weapon. The target: an adorably clueless wolf.

“Please!”

Payload delivered, Legosi stood there speechless. Louis could have sworn he saw tears, but whatever had been there was quickly blinked away. He slowly lumbered over, hands playing with themselves nervously. He towered over the prone deer, mouthing inaudible words.

Louis looked up at him, smiling weakly. “Please...comfort me...”

Legosi dropped to his knees, and he slowly slipped under the covers. Louis felt giddy as the heat radiating off of him made contact with his personal space. He had been so alone the past week. He needed someone. He needed Legosi. He needed the most important animal in his life next to him.

Legosi laid on his side facing him, and Louis turned to do the same. He often forgot just how much bigger this wolf was compared to him, but from that position it was undeniable. He reached down and grabbed one of Legosi’s hands, kneading it with his own. The wolf audibly gulped, sweat forming on his forehead.

“Hey...relax.” Louis still couldn’t believe Legosi could so reliably look pathetic in situations where he held complete control and power. “You’re not gonna eat me again, right?”

Legosi cleared his throat loudly. “I-it’s not that...”

“Then what is it?”

Legosi untangled his hand and folded his arms. “Well...remember what we talked about in the hospital?”

Louis tried to recall. “How you defend herbivores mostly because you’re in love with them? Yes, I remember.” He smiled at the absurdity of it all.

“Well...I mean...you’re an herbivore...and I’m feeling...feeling...”

Now it was Louis’s turn to turn red. He never thought of himself as an herbivore, or rather, he tried not to. But now that he realized it...

Feeling rather bold, Louis lobbied a question: “So, what? You don’t love me, too?”

The riskiness of the question was worth it just to hear the high pitched squeak that escaped the wolf’s mouth.

Louis moved closer to him, unable to control his body now. “After all we’ve been through. Even after saying you want to become Beastar with me and change society to our ideals...you don’t love me?”

Legosi was now blabbering nonsense, still crossing his arms. Louis scowled and reached for them, trying to pry them apart. Eventually, they untangled and Louis inserted himself into them.

“Well, Legosi...”, Louis squirmed, as if his body was fighting the vulnerability it was instinctively showing now. “I can’t think of anybody else I love more than you...”

It was such an obvious statement, but Louis was still shocked that it had left his lips.

Legosi’s strange nonspeak stopped, and Louis could very clearly feel his heart hammering against his ribcage. The arms around him started to hold him with purpose, and his long legs curled forward, catching Louis’s as they entwined.

“L-Louis-san...”

“Yes?”

“I...I do...”

“...what?”

“...love you.”

Not a noise could be heard for a few moments, aside from the cars outside and the pitter pat of rain against the window. Someone downstairs closed a door a bit too loudly.

Louis chuckled. “I love you, Legosi.”

Legosi’s own soft laughter joined the deer’s. “I love you, Louis!”

“I love you, Legosi!”

“I love you, Louis! I love you!”

“I love you!”

The nonsensical back and forth went on for longer than it probably should have, and eventually the enthusiasm and energy in their declarations faltered. Nevertheless, they continued to mumble those same words to each other as they fell asleep embracing each other.

#ok this is a lot longer than i expected #i just really wanted to write something with them at this point in the story #because Louis just can't stop pining for Legosi it seems #beastars

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weyheyjxlya · 4 years

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０２．ａｓｔｅｐｃｌｏｓｅｒ？

𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌

*•.¸♡ synopsis ♡¸.•*

You came to watch the Schweiden Adlers vs. MSBY Jackals with your childhood best friend Yachi and the squad. First-year squad. And that includes Tsukishima Kei. That tall, blonde, gorgeous, salty, and once was yours but you got to let go four years ago. With hearts thumping loud and thoughts screaming out on its own. “I miss you. I’ve missed you to the point that I can’t breathe. I miss you, please be back” These words are just waiting to be spoken like some kind of soulmates telepathy. Will they be able to say it? Will they still be able to fulfill that promise? or…

*•.¸♡ warning: family conflict | infidelity

m.list | 01 | 02 | 03

"I used to wonder why, why they could never be happy. I used to close my eyes and pray for a whole another family. Where everything was fine, one that felt like mine. I swore I would never be like them But I was just a kid back then"

Akutagawa Ayaka. A 22-year-old novelist residing in Tokyo. A girl that lives in a pen name that consists of your goal and hope in life. Akutagawa for your dream of achieving the Akutagawa Award one day. Seemed silly because it’ll be so obvious if you ever get to be nominated in it. Ayaka which define as "a colorful flower". Colorful Flower You've always wanted your life to be filled with colors and to be treated like a proper girl you are. Happiness. All you ever wanted is happiness. As a young girl, you grew up to be in a facade family. From the outside, it's perfect but in reality? it's far near the word perfect. You have an incompetent and unfaithful father which brought you distrust with men and a belief that you can never, ever rely on them. And your uncomplaining mother which pretends nothing is happening even though their marriage is already failing and is just enduring the suffering all to herself. Your family has brought you believing not to believe in love and marriage. Your family brought you to just believe yourself and be an independent woman. Relying on and believing in yourself until you reach your goal. Your goal is to be a writer. You love reading books so much. Gathering knowledge, bringing you into a non-existent world, and making you feel a feeling that you can't and never will, you suppose. This hobby which made you also love writing. As it is the only way that you can convey your thoughts into. But things changed when you met this cute neighbor of yours in Miyagi. Yachi Hitoka. She successfully changed your beliefs and perspective in life. She made you an optimistic person, adaptable to any kind of situation, confident, and trusting. Both of you, always hand in hand in all situations. Decided to be into the same schools from middle school until college. You guys are town's people A & B. She's imaginative as heck which helped u improve your mind from creating different universes. Always simping to different kinds of people. Nonetheless of its gender, age, and existence, as long as it's pleasing to the eyes; welcome to low-key hoe life girl! Low-key? Well, both of you excel in class that's why no one knew about your true natures. But most importantly, both of you are always there together through ups and downs. "Sisters from different mothers" should we say. Both of you decided to attend high school in Karasuno High School. Without knowing anything, this high school leads both of you into a path none of you would've believed you'd walk into. You thought meeting and being best friends with Yachi is enough to put colors in your life. But damn, Karasuno, you did us so well. Your friends. that's it. That's the whole point of this chapter. (just kidding) You and Yachi got separated by your classes. She got into class 5 and you got into 4. You just don't know how in the world both of you got separated. But one thing's certain by this separation. Your life became more vibrant and picturesque when you've got to meet these other four first years. Also, as time allowed you and Yachi, you even got to be part of a club. A family in your perspective, a truly genuine one. They support, they love, they soft, they attacc, they protecc, but most importantly, you've found home and warmth within them and always gave u snacc. Karasuno High School Volleyball Club. You're not officially one of them because you've got to be in the Literature Club first but when Yachi got to be one of their managers. "Hello, my comfort zone!!" you tell yourself every time you watch their practice when you have free time. You've got to be yourself here more than you got to be with your biological family. You even treated it as one of the concrete pillars that supports your life.

"Y/N!!" Yachi shrieked upon seeing you "Yacchan bby!! I've missed you" as both of you squealed in unison. "Awww I've missed seeing this precious face of yours. Tokyo did things to you huh. Your style? lovely!!" as she hugged you tightly as both of you haven't seen each other for a year because you've been busy ever since your light novel got its spotlight to your target audience. "How's your life now? I'm so proud of you!! like really. The joy that I'm feeling right now? It cannot be equated by some kid's joy when they receive a new toy from their parents. So how's living alone and the "Akutagawa Award" that you've been drooling off since we're young?" Oh right!! you're already like one step closer to your goals. You're finally a nominee for the 161st Akutagawa Award in the month of January 2019. Also, you're now living independently alone. Things got settled with your family. Your parents got divorced and now your mother has recovered from the trauma and is now peacefully settled with your grandmother, helping with running the family restaurant. Everything's settled now but why does it still feel like a single puzzle piece is missing? "Yachi." A voice that sends shivers down your spine. A voice that you're over-familiar with. A voice that's soothing that you've felt comfortable with. A voice that you've also missed over the years. "Oh, you're here Y/N!!" he exclaimed "Yes, I am. Hello...."

*•.¸♡ a/n: phew, no keyboard crisis this time haha. I have decided to upload chapters as many as I can because of something. the story won’t be rushed, I promise! I just got scared with some matters and that’s why I won’t be leaving u guys on some kind of cliffhangers. n e way, sorry this is somehow a filler and there’s no mention of tsuki, but thank u again very muchh for reading this. I’m giving u guys all my heart (if u want it hehe :3) my research for akutagawa award is lacking so gomen kuroo is alive and is found omg sksksksks

*•.¸♡ taglist ♡¸.•* @maviiiiic @keikink @differentballooncollection @kodzu-ken @soleil-sole

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima smau #tsukishima au #tsukishima kei #tsukishima angst #tsukishima fluff

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meowdymista · 3 years

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v. we might be dead by tomorrow

Part of the Devil’s Backbone project - Masterlist

“My God, is that Sadie Adler?”

Turning around, the woman’s mouth drops open. “Arthur motherfuckin’ Morgan!” she squeals, throwing her arms up and hugging him tight. “Oh my god! I thought you were dead! Am I dreaming? Is it really you?"

"It's me, alright." He groans as he squeezes her close, both of them laughing as he finally releases her and holds her at arm's length. "What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Bounty huntin' mostly." She slaps his arm looking him up and down, her eyes still sparkling with disbelief. "What about you? What have you been doin' all these years that you couldn't drop by to say hi to your good friend Sadie?"

"Avoidin' Pinkertons mostly." He nods at the bartender who promptly pours two double shots of whisky. They toast and only Arthur pulls a face. "Been travellin' around with Jack and Abigail, tryna get them settled someplace."

"You're still with them?" She nods appreciatively. "Does that mean you and Abigail…?" He gives her a blank stare. “Are you two… together?”

“Oh! Nah, o’course not. She’s always been in love with Marston.”

“Well, John’s been dead goin’ on eight years now.”

“So’s Jake. Have you met someone?”

Sliding another dollar to the bartender, she blows a long raspberry. “Have I hell. I think that was it for me. I’m not exactly meeting the best of suitors in my line of work.”

Arthur shrugs, accepting the beer she pushes into his hand. “Well, there you have it.”

“Oh no, you ain’t getting off that easy! You can’t be tellin’ me you ain’t ever slept together?”

“The women we travelled with were working girls, Sadie, with the exception of you. I mean, even Molly was startin’ that way ‘til Dutch picked her up.”

“I meant since I last saw y’all.” She laughs at the colour creeping up Arthur’s neck. “I knew it!”

“It ain’t like that, Sadie-”

“Well what’s it like then?” she teases with a big smile.

“It’s- y’know what it’s like. Some nights are more lonely than others.” His gaze is fixed on his fingers as they pick at the label,

“So you’ve only done it once or twice?” The heat starts burning in the cartilage of his ears. “Or once or twice this week?”

“We ain’t done it this week!” Arthur sits up a little taller, his cheeks still burning.

“No sexual activity at all?” He glances at her, his faltering voice making her laugh. “Arthur Morgan, how I’ve missed you!”

“Shurrup!” he growls, shoving her gently and draining the rest of his beer in one. “Don’t you have some work to be gettin’ on with?”

“Why? You sick of me already?” Her hand squeezes his shoulder until he meets her gaze. “Listen. I’m happy for you. You deserve to have a loving family.”

“You got the wrong end of the stick. I’m just helping ‘em get settled. We bought some land and built a ranch on it. When it’s paid for itself and they got a foot on this farming shit, I’ll leave ‘em to it.”

“How old is the ranch now?”

“About a year or more.”

“And you’re set on movin’?”

He shrugs. “I ain’t gonna outstay my welcome. Just wanna make sure they’ll be alright.”

Shaking her head, she heaves a deep breath. “What’s Abigail say about that?”

“We ain’t really talked about it-”

“So you’re sleepin’ together, runnin’ a ranch and helpin’ with her boy… but you’re still intending to leave?”

“Shit, Sadie, it won’t be for a while yet. Another year or more... it depends. I don’t know. Nobody knows.”

Quiet blankets the conversation. They each accept another beer, drinking wordlessly.

“Pearson runs the shop out in Rhodes now,” she states calmly.

“Really? Good for him!”

“Got himself a wife too - Esther.” Her sideways glance is enough to tickle him. “She’s got him as whipped as his Aunt Cathy!”

“Well, it weren’t for lack of suitors!” He laughs remembering their first trip into Rhodes. “Damn, Mrs Adler. Where does the time go?”

“Speak for yourself, old man! Them grey hairs had to come from somewhere.”

He scratches the stubble on his jaw self consciously. “Shurrup. I’m retired.”

“Didn’t know reprobates could retire.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head as he stands up. “Me neither, but it’s nice to try.”

“Well if you ever want any work, you know where I am. Most towns have bounty posters up and around. If you need money for the ranch, or if you’re serious about leaving ‘em to it…”

“Huh, maybe. I used to pick some up back in the day. You got an address, or an alias if I wanna write?”

“Nothin’ particular. Send it to wherever you hear from me last. No alias - this is legal work I’m doin’ now, so Mrs Adler is just fine. Yourself?”

“Beecher’s Hope, West Elizabeth.”

“Near Blackwater?”

“That’s the one.”

“I heard there’s some rough folk thataway.”

“The Skinner Brothers? Yeah, they can be pretty nasty.”

She hesitates. “I guess I can see why you want to stick around a bit longer… To make sure they’re safe.”

He agrees without much commitment - that reason is as good as any. “You should drop by if you’re in the area. I’m sure Abigail and Jack would love to see you and how well you’re doing for yourself.”

“I’ll definitely think about it.” She offers her hand, but he knocks it aside and pulls her into another hug.

“I’ll see you again, Mrs Adler.”

“Another time, Mr Morgan!” She tips her hat as Arthur waves back.

*****

Rufus gallops across the ranch as Arthur rides in trying not to jostle his arm. “Go away, boy,” he hisses. “Where’s Jack? Go play with Jack.” He swears as the dog begins to bark at him. His horse is too used to his grumpy antics to be moved by the aging pup.

He nudges his horse to the barn doors, using the bottom of his bow to prod them open ahead of the mare. Inside, he swings himself down, not caring if there is a steaming pile of manure where he lands. He's fortunate to land on the concrete with little more than a hiss at the jostle. Moving to the nearest stall to light a lamp, he finds Jack reading besides his favourite calf.

"Hey, Uncle Arthur."

"What are you doing out here at this hour?" he growls, snatching the book out of his hands and marking the page with a feather from his hat. "Get inside!"

"Y-yes sir." The boy is clearly taken aback. Arthur rarely exposes his fierce side nowadays - mostly he is calm, quietly cheerful, and appreciative of even the smallest conveniences. He scrambles to his feet, reaching out for the book when his eyes are drawn to the wound with a horrified gasp. "Uncle Arthur!"

He grimaces, still trying to usher him outside. "Shurrup! You want to wake everyone?"

"You're hurt!" It is more of a question than an exclamation, but his stuttering doesn't expect an answer. "What happened? Are we in danger? Is it Pinkertons? What do we do?"

"Shit, Jack! Breathe!" He squeezes the boy's shoulder, staring him in the eye. "It's nothing you need to worry about. No one's coming here, no one is coming to hurt us, alrigh'? Take a breath before you pass out or somethin'."

"Then what happened to your arm?" Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes. "It looks pretty deep. Did a bear get you?"

"Sure."

"Do we need to get the animals in? What if it comes onto the ranch? What were you doing out so late anyway?"

"Boah!" Gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes to help keep his composure. "Get to bed or God help me, I ain't above knocking you out to get some peace!"

When he opens his eyes he expects the boy to be moving away, but instead he's leaning in to look at the wound.

"You need me to bring Ma? You look like you need stitches."

"No!" He grips his arm tight enough to make him whimper. "Do not breathe a word of this to your mother. This is between you an' me, a'right?"

"You need help-"

"I can take care of myself." He releases him and steps back, beginning to get supplies from his saddle bags. "Don't you go breathin' a word about this to anyone, y'hear? Nobody."

Jack watches tentatively as the man begins to remove his jacket and shirt. Seeing the ripped flesh makes his stomach churn. "What can I do?"

"I told yer-"

"Let me help." Jack nods once, his small soft face gripped with determination. "What do you need? I- I know where Ma keeps her sewing kit. An' I'm sure there'll be some boiled water left over for drinkin'. Will salt help?"

Arthur sighs, his body sagging as he deliberates. He has never been good at accepting help. The only reason he accepted any help in the past was because of Grimshaw's steadfast stubbornness or he was outnumbered. All those years of being strong… standing tall… and now he can't even scare a boy out of a barn.

"Fine. Bring me a clean union suit too. I think I saw my blue one knocking about somewhere. An' a pair of pliers - the small ones. Should be under the sink or up in the loft with Uncle."

The boy runs off leaving Arthur to reflect. For a boy without his father, he was growing up strong. He was lucky to have his mother's lust for learning, but somehow his father's gait had survived, especially when he ran. Sometimes Arthur would catch himself watching him and remembering the crap John got into at his age. If John was a coyote, Jack was a fox. He had a good head on his shoulders, and always assessed the risks rather than blundering in blindly like his father did. It was just a shame that the recklessness had been completely swallowed by such delicate hesitation - some things were best learned by jumping in the deep end.

The door creaks as Jack slips back inside breathless, his cheeks rosy from the exertion.

"I was quick as I could. Nobody saw me I don't think."

"Good." Arthur pulls the cork from an open bottle of whiskey with his teeth, spitting it against the wall before chugging its contents. “C’mere. Best we get to by the light if you’re gonna do this.”

Jack gulps as Arthur sits himself on the milking stool, wincing as he inspects the wound. “D’you got the pliers?”

“Right here, sir.”

“OK, now I’m gonna need you to take a look in the wound. I’m sure one of ‘em got me with an arrow before the bastard sliced me.”

“An arrow?” repeats the boy, swallowing his stomach as he eyes the mess of flesh. “You said it was a bear?”

He scoffs. “I’ve said many things in my life, Jack Marston, not all of them honest.”

The boy doesn’t reply. He’s trying to breathe through his mouth but the iron in the air still caresses his tastebuds. “I can’t see anything, Uncle Arthur.”

“Alright. Grab a shirt from Gwyn and bring over the salt water. We gotta get this clean before you sew it up.”

“I ain’t done much sewin’ before.”

Arthur grunts. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

The boy is obedient. He tries to be as careful as possible, but despite his ginger pats, a hiss still seeps out between his teeth. Arthur leans his head back against the barn wall to keep himself steady.

“I saw Sadie Adler when I went out Valentine way. D’you remember her?”

Jack thinks back as he wrings the shirt out. “Maybe?”

“Well, she’s doin’ well. Bounty huntin’. Said it’s good money.” He exhales sharply. “I been doin’ some here and there. Mostly fraudsters or petty thieves. None with any fight or any weapons or shit.”

“Why?”

He tilts his head to review the boy’s reaction. The whiskey and blood loss has loosened his tongue. “I want to help you and your ma buy this place outright. Eight dollars a day is plenty to keep y’all fed and clothed but the bank likes to charge more the longer it takes you to pay it back.”

“Ma will kill you if she finds out.”

“Don’t tell her.” He grips the boy’s wrist with his good arm. “Please? This- this was foolishness. I knew I shouldn’t have taken it.”

“So why did you?”

“I used to be a good shot. A few years back I could have taken ‘em out without any bother, but either I’m gettin’ slow or they’ve got faster.” He glances at his arm and scoffs. “Maybe both,” he grunts as he takes another deep swig of liquor.

“OK, well, it looks clean. Still doesn’t look to be anything much in there.”

“A’right. Bring a needle an’ thread over. Next bit is easy, ok?”

After Jack overcomes his squeamishness, Arthur is sewn up in no time. The boy helps him clean the smaller cuts and injuries, including a bullet in his leg that hadn’t gone too deep. By the time he’s finished, Arthur is dozing, slumped against one of the beams. He wakes him with a gentle shake and heaves him to his feet.

“Hol’ up a minute.” Arthur staggers to the horse and begins to pull at the saddle. Seeing what he’s trying to do with limited mobility, Jack quickly unfastens the clasps and helps set it aside. “Thanks, son.” He ruffles his hair fondly. “Y’know, you look like your father did at your age?”

“Really?” Jack pulls his arm over his shoulder, leading him in the direction of the house. Colour is beginning to light the sky. It must be near three in the morning.

“Yeah. I didn’t care much for him then.” He snorts laughing. “Your Uncle Hosea wasn’t best pleased with me.”

****

Arthur grunts as a hammering brings him back to consciousness. His body is stiff, his mouth dry, his head thumping without the noise. Squinting in the morning light, Jack is sticking his head through the door.

“Uncle Arthur? Are you ok?”

“Never better,” he growls sarcastically. “What’s up?”

“Mrs Adler - the lady you spoke about last night? She’s outside.”

#sadie adler #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fic #red dead fanfic #meowdymista #jack marston

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galadrieljones · 4 years

Text

Author Interview

tagged by @princessvicky01. Thank you!! ^_^

Name: galadrieljones, here and AO3. You can call me gala.

Fandoms: Red Dead Redemption 2, The Last of Us, Horizon: Zero Dawn, Dragon Age: Inquisition

Where You Post: tumblr and AO3

Most Popular One-Shot: I don’t keep track, but probably “Yours, Sadie Adler.” (Red Dead Redemption 2, Arthur x Sadie)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: The Lily Farm. (Red Dead Redemption 2, Arthur x Mary Beth, Fix-it) This is a huge story and basically a rewrite of Chapter 4. I hope to finish it at some point in the quasi near future.

Favorite Story You Wrote: Too many to name.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: Probably my first chapter of The Dead Season (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Solavellan, Fix-it). as it is my first fanfiction I’ve ever written as an adult, and because it contains my first real attempt at smut.

How You Choose Your Titles: I usually like the titles to be a part of the story themselves, like they should do some work or have some symbolic significance beyond the obvious thing. So like, The Lily Farm is literal--Arthur, Mary Beth, and the Marstons are trying to escape north where rumor has it, there are lily farms--but it also just sort of symbolizes a rumored dream, a thing that seems too good to be true, that may or may not be real, which you must pursue on faith alone. Sometimes, for simpler stories, I just use a memorable, concrete object from the inventory of the story, which feels like an anchor, or a thread throughout the story, like in my TLoU stories “Grand Junction Wine” and “Nature Sounds.”

Complete: My two completed chapter fics are The Dead Season and Last Call (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Lavellan x Ameridan, post-Trespasser)

Incomplete: The Lily Farm, That he may hold me by the hand (Red Dead Redemption 2, Arthur x Albert Mason, Fix-it), Zero (Horizon: Zero Dawn, Niloy), Unsigned (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Solavellan, post-Trespasser) - AKA TOO MANY

Do You Outline?: I didn’t used to at all, but I do now, to some extent. I outlined much more with The Lily Farm and That he may hold than I did ever before and I think the stories are much tighter because of it, especially with That he may hold. My outlining methods are sort of weird, as I don’t make like, a grid or list or summaries or anything. I just write rough scene sketches to mark milestone or anticipated moments in the plot, which help to anchor the story in my brain. I personally find that writing ABOUT a story rather than WITHIN a story ruins some of the mystery for me.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: Hopefully the end to That he may hold, which I am very close to. The ending for The Lily Farm is not as close, but it’s still somewhat close. I’m not sure. I may expedite it a touch since I’ve fallen so far behind.

Do You Accept Prompts?: Generally. I don’t reject them lol. Whether they get filled is anyone’s guess!

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: I’ve been mulling over a possible fix-it for The Last of Us and The Last of Us 2. I actually really love the story as is, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see a warmer version. As it stands, it looks like it will be a reworking of some of the first game, extending into the timeline of the second, with a couple original characters who change Joel and Ellie’s course in small but drastic ways. Its working title is As You Were. I haven’t really written in a long time, because I’ve just been so busy with family stuff, so it’s hard to get going, but I’ll get back into a groove soon!

tags for @thevikingwoman @idrelle-miocovani @a-shakespearean-in-paris @ma-sulevin @pikapeppa @roguelioness @midnightprelude and anyone else writing who would like to do this!! ^_^

#on writing #about me #author interview

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letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked · 6 years

Text

New Beginnings (Part 1)

Frank Adler X OFC

A/N: I literally spent like FOREVER working on this storyboard LOL I hope you enjoy this series! Ignore the piece of shit wattpad cover... It looked too plain, and I wanted a picture. *shrugs*

Warnings: None really... yet. Swearing, mostly.

Main Masterlist // Series Masterlist

“It’s too hot, here.” Annie sighed to herself, air conditioning cranked to the max in her older model truck. Honestly, how do people like this weather? “What do you think, Elena?” She glanced up in the rearview mirror, spotting her snoring toddler in her car seat.

With an eye roll, she went back to concentrating on the busy road, squinting behind her sunglasses to find her little street. “Seriously, kid? We’ve only been driving for, like, twenty minutes.”

Florida was a completely different atmosphere than northern Minnesota.

It was a million times hotter, there were more people in the major cities, and the people were always so busy. Luckily, Annie could get used to the warmer weather, considering she’d decided to move in mid-September. It was still hot as shit in Minnesota, but she knew that would change fairly quick. Minnesota weather was completely unpredictable, but Annie had respected that. She was used to dealing with the rain, heat, snow, and cold – sometimes all in the same damn week.

Now, she was going to have to learn to respect the tropical weather – considering she was moving to Florida during hurricane season.

Hurricanes were nothing like tornadoes…

If there was a hurricane any time soon, she was going to have a goddamn heart attack.

It was a bright, sunny day, though. She picked a great day to leave the hotel and move into her new… apartment? The landlord had called it an apartment, but the pictures made it look more like a small house; and though she hadn’t seen the place in person, she already loved it. It was the only pink house in the little community that she’d found on a renters website.

Moving had been a spur of the moment decision, on her part, because… well… her parents… they died in a car accident back in early June.

Her dad had hydroplaned during a particularly bad thunderstorm, causing the car to collide with a large semi-truck, and they’d lost their lives. Luckily, the other driver was unharmed. Her brother, Gavin, had been on his way home to visit from his first year at North Dakota State University when the accident had occurred.

Unfortunately, Annie and her small toddler, Elena, had been at home – waiting on their arrival back from the store.

Receiving the news about their parents’ deaths devastated the siblings. Elena was too young to understand why her mother and her uncle were huddled together on the couch, sobbing uncontrollably, awaiting the arrival of their grandparents to help with funerals and insurance. Gavin’s girlfriend, Grace, had driven all night to come to Gavin and Annie’s rescue. She helped cook and clean, and she helped with Elena – much to Annie’s admiration.

Gracie had been a friggin’ godsend to the siblings.

When Annie and Gavin decided to sell the family home, they – drunkenly – decided the best thing for Annie to do was throw a dart at a map of the United States and choose a state.

Because mixing alcohol and darts was the best idea they could come up with.

After three tries to get the damn dart to stick in the damn board, it landed near Tampa, Florida. Not wanting to completely live in the city, they’d done some online research and found the apartment – at an amazing price – which was move-in ready by the beginning of September.

That was the reason for the 1,900-ish mile trip from Thief River Falls, Minnesota, to the little town outside of Tampa, Florida. The landlord – Roberta – had promised that the place would be painted, carpets would be cleaned or replaced, and that the place was quite spacious for a single-mother and a toddler.

Not that Annie couldn’t afford to do all the work herself, after she received the ghastly life insurance – blood money – check with too many zeros. Her and her brother split the check down the middle for life insurance, and the house. He got their mother’s fancy Jeep, and she got her father’s old – but reliable – pickup truck. It made more sense, with the move. Not that she had much stuff to move, anyways. She’d wanted a clean break from her life in Minnesota. She’d broken things off with her boyfriend, Lance, and donated all her belongings – only keeping the important items.

The usual type of ‘I need a change of scenery after my parents’ deaths’ move.

Right?

Her brother tagged along on the trip with her, to make sure that the apartment was really ready. All the while, Annie found a job at a local elementary school as an office secretary, which provided daycare for Elena.

Unfortunately, Gavin had to leave early in the morning, due to college starting back up and having an early exam he needed to finish studying for.

So, he had to catch a flight at an ungodly hour, earlier that morning.

“We’re almost to our new home, Mija.” Annie smiled, knowing full well that her daughter was still snoring away in the back seat. That kid could sleep through anything. “You shouldn’t be napping. It’s almost ten in the morning. You should be wide awake, kid.”

Glancing at her phone – which was attached to a vent-clip, so she could see the GPS – she realized that she’d actually missed the turn into the neighborhood, prompting her to sigh in frustration. Whipping around when she could, she followed the road back to her turn, which was partially hidden by a few annoying trees.

Commit that to memory, Annie.

…Stupid ass trees.

“Elena, baby, time to wake up.” When Annie entered her little neighborhood, she reached back to gently shake her daughter’s chubby, little, tan leg. “We’re home.” Annie immediately knew which house was hers… since the bright pink stuck out like a sore thumb. She loved it! “Mija, look.”

She heard the grunt and whine of her little girl, who was not a happy baby when she was woken from a nap. Elena – who’s dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin resembled her father – was glaring at her from her car seat, pissed off. Though Elena’s features didn’t resemble Annie’s, in the slightest, her facial expressions completely matched Gavin’s facial expressions – much to Annie’s dismay and humor.

“Oh, come on, Mija.” She laughed, pulling into her designated parking space – which was a small, grassy area next to her new home. “At least show me your beautiful smile. Today’s a happy day.”

The second the car stopped moving, Elena started straining against the bonds of her car seat, lip protruding in a pout and whining loudly.

“Alright, alright.” Annie sighed, unbuckling her own seatbelt, before reaching for the door. She was immediately hit with a wave of humid heat, which seeped into the air conditioned truck and fogged the windows. “Fuck, it’s hot.”

She hopped down, her five foot three inch stature appearing even smaller next to the height of her dad’s older truck. Walking around the front of the truck, she saw a young girl running around in one of the yards, blonde hair swishing behind her as she chased around a fat, orange and white cat. A woman, who was seated on her concrete steps, was laughing, watching the young girl with the adoration a mother would have for a child.

Speaking of children…

Annie ripped open the door, unbuckling her own child from her car seat and turning back towards their new home.

The pastel pink home had a lot of character, reminding Annie of a small doll house she’d had as a child. The plants around the house looked as if they’d been well cared for, the concrete steps – though slightly uneven – were lined with a metal railing, which would be good to have when Elena learned how to walk properly down the stairs, versus sliding down on her butt or belly. The roof looked a little worn, but that was understandable with Florida’s stormy weather, and the accents of the house were a newly painted white.

The neighborhood, though dated, looked beautifully kept-up.

Elena, whose mood had improved in the last couple minutes, whined to be let down and thrashed against Annie – pissed that she wasn’t immediately able to run around and cause a ruckus.

“Stay close to mommy, okay?” Annie told her, setting her down on the grassy lot, “Mommy doesn’t know this neighborhood, yet.”

Elena immediately ran circles around Annie’s pale legs, which were donned in some jean shorts, and started a fit of giggles – stomping around like a tiny, little weirdo.

“Let’s get the stuff from the back, yeah?” She smiled, watching Elena run to a bush to check out the little yellow flowers blooming, eyes full of wonder. “Then we can tour the house.”

Ignoring her, Elena picked a flower from the bush, plopping down on her butt and examining the flower with her dark brows pushed together in concentration – slightly humming to herself.

With a small chuckle, Annie moved to the back of the truck, moving the cover back so she had access to the few belongings that she’d brought with. There were only a few boxes of belongings and necessities, three suitcases, a portable crib for Elena, a large cooler of food Annie had purchased that morning, some grocery bags, and a blow up mattress for Annie.

That was it… At least, until the furniture arrived.

Grabbing Elena’s things first, she hauled them off the truck, calling for Elena to follow her as she brought them to the front steps. Elena, who had thrown the poor flower onto the ground and trampled it to a mangled mess, toddled over to the front door.

After struggling to get the door unlocked with her arms full, Annie stepped into their new home for the first time, followed by Elena’s little body.

The carpets – which had been replaced, recently – where a brilliant off-white, as were the walls. The front door lead into the living room, which – though small – was perfect size for the Annie and her toddler.

Gently setting her belongings down, she stood there for a moment to take it all in.

She took a deep breath, the natural floral scent of her new house – which covered the smell of fresh paint – wafting through the open windows and tickling the inside of her nose. They’d probably been opened earlier that morning to let the breeze naturally cool the house a bit, since it was hot as balls.

To her left was the kitchen, which was a little more dated than the living room but did have newer appliances. There was a back door, in the kitchen, which was closer to the yard that the young, blonde girl and the older woman had occupied previously. The kitchen was big enough for a small kitchen table, and Annie could already picture how she wanted to decorate.

Luckily, white and light wood were easy to work with.

So many options…

There was a hallway that connected the kitchen to the two bedrooms and one bathroom. The bigger bedroom was, obviously, Annie’s. It was big enough that she could fit a queen size bed and a dresser with plenty of room to walk back and forth – not that she’d spend much time in her bedroom, anyways. The second bedroom would be perfect for Elena to have a crib, a small double bed for guests, and a large bin for her toys.

Annie, in awe of her new home, carried Elena’s portable crib and suitcase to her new bedroom. “This is your room, Mija! Do you like it?”

Elena followed Annie into the bedroom, frowning at her new environment with the look that Gavin got when he was thinking hard. Her little dark brows were pulled together, pink lips pursed into a tight frown, and eyes narrowed as she scanned the area.

God, she was never allowed near her uncle, again. Those two were peas in a freaking pod.

“Once we get it decorated, you’ll like it more.” Annie sighed, thankful that the only stairs in the house were the front steps. “Stay here while mommy gets the rest of our things, okay?”

Elena ignored Annie, again, going for the zipper on her suitcase and trying to unzip it, herself.

While the toddler was distracted, Annie quickly started hauling her items into the home, putting each box and suitcase in the appropriate bedroom and making a mental list of things she was going to order online and shop for.

Once all of their possessions were out of the truck, Annie set to work on setting up the portable crib for Elena and the air mattress for herself.

Shit, why do the stupid sides never want to lock up? Why did you have to become a magic fucking wizard to set up a portable crib?!

A knock sounded at the back door, startling her while she made up Elena’s bed – after she somehow got the sides to lock up.

She didn’t know anyone, yet… Who would knock on her door?

Maybe the landlord?

She did say that she was going to check in…

Annie, leaving Elena to play with her book in her bedroom, made her way towards the back door, spotting the woman and child from earlier – the young girl holding a giant plate of chocolate chip cookies, with an annoyed frown on her face.

“Well, hello.” Annie smiled, opening the back door and waving them inside the empty kitchen. “I’m Annie O’Hara. Are you my new neighbors?”

“I’m Roberta. I’m the landlord.” The older, dark-skinned woman smiled, a hand on the young girl’s shoulder. She recognized Roberta’s voice from speaking to her on the phone. “This is Mary.”

“Hi, Mary.” Annie greeted, opening the door wider to let the duo step inside. “You can come in if you’d like. I still have to order the furniture, though, so there’s not really anywhere to sit.”

“We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Roberta chuckled, entering the home with Mary following closely behind. “It’s been a while since we’ve had new neighbors, but Bernadette’s health just kept declining… Her children had her in assisted living, before she passed.”

“I take it Bernadette was the previous tenant?” Annie asked, leaning against the counter and watching as Mary set the plate of cookies beside her. “She kept the place up really nice. This house looks like it’s seen some love.”

“She loved to tend to her plants. It was therapeutic for her.” Roberta sighed, leaning against the wall opposite from Annie. “She, also, made a mean apple pie.”

“Well, I haven’t baked in a long time, but I do love to cook.” Annie shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest, “My daughter likes my homemade macaroni and cheese.”

“You have a daughter?” Mary asked, eyes lighting up and all traces of a frown disappearing. “How old is she?”

“She’s almost two.” Annie replied, lips lifting into a smile at the potential play-mate for her daughter. “She loves to run around outside if you want to meet her.”

“Can I meet her?” Mary grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. “We haven’t had any kids in the neighborhood in forever.”

“Of course, you can.” Annie pushed away from the counter, walking towards the hallway and calling out, “Elena, come here, Mija!”

The sound of uneven footfalls stomping around the hall could be heard from the kitchen as Elena ran from the bedroom to where Annie was calling her name. She came barreling around the corner, a large grin on her face, and an excited cry echoing through the empty house.

Scooping her giggling form from the ground, Annie gave her a sloppy kiss on her little cheek. “This is Elena.”

“Hi, Elena.” Mary waved, excitement rolling off of her in waves. “Can I show her my cat? His name is Fred. He has one eye.”

“Only one eye?” Annie asked, cocking a confused brow as she tried to keep her hold on her struggling toddler – who still wanted to run around and explore. “What happened to his other one?”

“Don’t know. He doesn’t like to talk about it.” Mary shrugged, like she’d answered the question multiple times, before. “Can Elena meet Fred? I think he would like her.”

“Of course.” Annie held the door open for the duo, still holding Elena, before following them outside into the sun. “Elena loves animals.”

Setting Elena into the plush grass, Mary grabbed her little hand, leading her into the other yard, where the orange, monocular cat was stretched out – sunbathing. Roberta and Annie sat down on the steps, watching the young girls as they pet the rotund cat.

“So, is Mary your daughter?” Annie asked, watching as Elena gently pat the cat on the side of the belly. “She’s adorable.”

Roberta laughed, leaning back so the sun was shining on her face. “Does she look like my daughter?”

“I’m a pale, Irish redhead.” Annie shrugged, closing her eyes as the sun warmed her arms and cheeks. “Does Elena look like my daughter?”

“I guess not.” Roberta replied, and Annie could hear the smile in her tone. “As much as I wish she was mine, she’s not. I just love spending time with her.”

“Well, hopefully her and Elena can spend some time together, too.” Annie opened her eyes to watch the young girls run around the yard, chasing the cat. “Elena doesn’t have much interaction with other children.”

“Where’s her father, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Mexico.” Annie replied, a small wave of guilt washing over her. “I was on spring break when I met her father. Marco worked at a bar just outside of Cancún, where we met. We had a small fling, and one thing led to another… I didn’t get his number or any other information on him, because it was just a one night stand, so I couldn’t exactly contact him.”

She gulped, getting that lump in her stomach that appeared any time she thought about how other people perceived her after learning the truth about Elena’s conception. “I remembered that… I remembered his mother’s name was Elena, though. I wanted to make sure Elena knew her heritage, as much as I could. I’m trying to learn Spanish and named her after her grandmother. I want to educate myself, so she doesn’t feel like she’s missing a part of herself, you know?” Annie frowned, watching Elena giggle as she ran away from Mary. “I googled the bar, after Elena was born… but it burnt down. I have no idea where Marco could be, or even what his last name was.”

“So, you’ve been raising her all on your own?”

“My parents were a big help,” Annie’s shoulders sagged in grief, the familiar pang of loss ripping through her chest. It was never going to get easier to mention them… “They died back in June, and my brother’s in college at NDSU in North Dakota… So, I decided it was time to move on. I needed a change, as cliché as that is.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Roberta laid a warm hand on Annie’s arm, face soft with sympathy. “Losing your parents is hard. I know the pain. I’m sorry you have to experience it so young.”

“I’m just glad to have Elena, Gavin, and Grace – his girlfriend.” Annie smiled, sun starting to leave her pale skin a little pink. “I’m sorry that you know the pain of losing your parents. When did it happen?”

“Oh, honey, it was years ago. Eventually, you learn to appreciate the time you had with them, instead of missing the time you didn’t.” She sighed, patting Annie’s arm before looking over at a truck that was pulling up a few houses down. “Frank’s here. He’s Mary’s uncle. More of a father than any man I’ve ever met.”

Annie watched as Mary abruptly stopped running, a large grin stretching her face as she spotted the older truck. “FRANK!” Mary shrieked, running toward the taller man who was exiting the truck.

“Shit.” Annie whispered as Elena followed Mary, confused that they were no longer playing, and going to investigate. “Elena! Mija!”

Annie jumped up, jogging after the toddler, who had already made her way over to the confused man and joyous child. Mary, who had jumped into her uncles’ arms for a moment, squatted down next to Elena – who was holding her arms out to Mary to pick her up – and lifted her with a small grunt, talking to Frank.

“Frank, this is Elena.” Mary introduced, as Annie quickly made her way over, “Her and her mom are our new neighbors. They’re where Bernadette used to live, before she got too old.”

Frank was a tall man, tee shirt tightly stretching over his broad shoulders but bunching up at his narrow waist. He looked as if he had just gotten home from work, arms and tee shirt stained with oil and grease. His face was unshaved, but kept pretty tame, and he was tan – as if he worked outside.

The look in his eyes was one of a parent, and he looked at Mary like she was his entire world, tired eyes lighting up at the sight of the blonde, little girl.

Well, shit, Annie thought to herself, He’s attractive.

“Mary.” Frank sighed, shaking his head, trying not to smile. “That’s not a polite way to put it.”

“What! She was!” Mary shrugged, as Elena laid her head on Mary’s shoulder in exhaustion from running around. She spotted Annie and gestured over to the woman. “That’s Annie. Elena’s mom.”

“Hi! Sorry about Elena! She really likes Mary.” Annie smiled, brushing her stray red hair from her face, holding out her free hand to Frank. “I’m Annie O’Hara. I just moved into the pink house.”

Frank cocks a brow at her, blue eyes scrutinizing her as he grasped her hand with a stiff handshake. “Frank Adler.”

“Nice… to meet you?” Annie replies awkwardly, watching as Mary and Elena run towards the cat. “Your niece is such a sweet girl. Elena is already fascinated by her. They’ve been playing since Roberta and Mary came to meet us.”

“Nice.” Frank replied, curtly. He watched Mary, paying no attention to Annie as Mary and Elena plopped down in the grass to pet Fred.

“Anyways…” Annie gulped, starting to awkwardly walk away. “Nice meeting you.”

“Yep.” He replied, turning and walking towards his house, before calling out to Mary. “Mary, come eat lunch.”

“Okay!” Mary called back, standing quickly, and turning to Elena. “I have to go eat lunch. We can play, later, okay?”

“Come on, Mija.” Annie walked over, scooping Elena up from the ground, dusting the grass from her little shorts. “Say ‘bye-bye’ to Mary.”

Elena lifted her hand, waving her hand back and forth with a small pout, and Mary ran off to her house.

Well… that was awkward. Annie thought to herself, shaking off the negative vibes from the encounter. He was kind of a dick. Jeez.

Annie and Elena made their way back over to Roberta, who was still sunbathing on Annie’s step. “I don’t think Frank likes me much.”

“What makes you say that?” Roberta frowned, dark eyebrows pulling together, confused. “Was he rude to you?”

“Not exactly.” Annie shrugged, sitting on the step with Elena in her lap, bouncing the toddler as she played with the neckline of Annie’s shirt. “Just… a little standoffish.”

“They went through a lot, last year.” Roberta sighs, gazing over at the Adler residence with a sad look in her eyes. Annie could see her swallow thickly, before continuing, “They’re still recovering from it.”

“I won’t ask.” Annie sighed, pressing her face against the warm curls on the top of Elena’s head. “That’s their business. I just hope that Mary and Elena can play together. It’d be nice to have another child in the neighborhood, so Elena can become more social. I want her to be a kid and be more social. She’s always around adults.”

“That sounds familiar.” Roberta smiles at Elena, holding out her hand for Elena to grasp and examine. “So, why don’t you have any furniture, yet?”

“I wanted a clean break.” A small pang pierced at Annie’s heart as she thought about her childhood home. She missed it. She missed the smell, the squeaky door to the patio, her bedroom, and… her parents. “The house just wasn’t the same without my parents. I wanted to be able to start a new life with Elena. Gavin was already gone, so it was just me and Elena in the house. It didn’t feel right.”

“So, you lived with your parents?”

“Yeah.” Annie replied, replaying the past in her mind like a footage reel. “After I found out I was pregnant, I quit college out of panic. I was newly twenty-one, and only on my second year of doing my generals at the U of M.” A small sigh escaped her, before she could help it. Quitting college was something that she really regretted doing, but she didn’t want to dwell on past mistakes. “I really panicked, but I was lucky to have parents who wanted to help me. They let me come back, gave me a room to stay in, loved their grandchild with their whole hearts, and never judged me for my actions. They were truly the best parents I could’ve asked for.”

“They sound like great parents.” Roberta smiles, brushing her fingers over Elena’s dark curls. “I have a son. He lives in the Miami area. I only see him a few times a year. He has a family of his own, and a life of his own.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Every day.” She smiles, dark eyes shining with unshed tears. “I have Frank and Mary, though.”

“Well,” Annie grasped Roberta’s hand in comfort, “I hope you know that… You have us, too.”

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Part 2

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FOREVER TAGS: (OPEN)

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brianjpatterson · 5 years

Text

SPOTLIGHT: Preparing for the Transition into More Television Work

If you’re just joining Spotlight, then I’d like to welcome you to my personal journal of my personal journey as a performer. It’s a kind of way for me to look back on all of my experiences, and lessons I’ve learned, while simultaneously sharing what I’ve learned with you. Disclaimer: The word PERSONAL was utilized twice in the first sentence. Therefore, this is not the gospel or the truth, it’s just me sharing MY experiences in an effort to assist (if possible), in other people’s discovery toward climbing the ladder toward their own version of artistic success (end disclaimer). Today, I’m going to continue my detour past part (Part 5) of my observation of the Industry’s Corporate Structure (AGAIN), to touch briefly upon a concept that I live by in “Brian’s B’s” (Being/Awareness, Business, Conduct/Behavior), of my A+B=C method. It is the concept and idea of how to make things practically tangible for others. When you make something tangible for someone, it becomes easily accessible to them. And if you can make it easily accessible in a brief way…even better! SIDE NOTE: If you are reading this blog for the first time, here’s a brief over view of my A+B=C method. A stands for the Abstract; It’s your dream and what you desire. C is the Completion or end result to the equation. It’s that Concrete product you have Concocted. However, B is the thing that doesn’t get much attention, and it is the most vital portion of the equation; It is your Being, your Behavior, and your Business. All the things that YOU actually DO to mix with the A and make the C happen! That is the basic overview of my system. Today, I’m going to focus briefly on a passion, yet fear of mine: Working in Television.

A week ago, I had brunch with a dear friend of mine who was a series regular on a major television show, and is currently a series regular on a new tv show. We shall call her ‘June’ for reference purposes. June and I were catching up and doing some ‘ki-ki-ing’, when just before ending our conversation, I took the liberty to ask her for her input on a concern I was having. My concern was working in television. I’ve done one character on television, but working in tv with regularity has always been a goal of mine. I see tv as a modern form of theatre. Although it isn’t a ‘live’ connection with an audience, there is a kind of life and connectivity that is brought to the table because it seems to unify people all over a country (and sometimes the planet). In addition, Stella Adler once said that Theatre is the ‘currency of society’. I view television to be similar. We process all kinds of societal, social, and political issues through tv in a parallel manner as theatre. But having worked in theatre, I have a conundrum bringing my theatre experience to tv, and it is this: 1) There’s a lot of typecasting and 2) There isn’t a lot of rehearsal or preparation time in tv. So, I asked her, “How do I navigate this?”. I wanted to bring character work to tv the same way many of my favorite actors (herself included) do, but I wasn’t sure how to do so. Here are four ways that we discussed which I found helpful for performers transitioning from Theatre to Television. Enjoy!

ONE - DO YOUR HOMEWORK

One of the first things upon which June touched was preparation time. There is not a lot of time to prepare when working in television. Sometimes things have an overnight turnaround (or less), but it is imperative that full discovery (or as much as possible) is done. I personally have come up with my own system and have a packet which I fill out, to help me create character. Since I am a primarily right brained learner (specifically visually and tactile), I rely heavily on pictures and practice.

My personal system is thee pronged: 1.Memorize, 2.Manual Labor, and 3.Metabolize. I memorize the script so that I am not tripping up on the words. Next, I complete all of what I consider to be the ‘Manual Labor’ of research, character study, project history, physicality, connection with others, etc., etc. Last but not least, is the Metabolize portion. It is where I put the previous two sections into action. I have metabolized it, so that I can breath life into it and (hopefully) make it into something inspiring. This is where most of the stuff you see and like are completed. As you can see, being a visual/tactile learner, I actually use both of those in my process and it very much reflects the concept behind fight choreography or dance. I set it all to motion, and then once the template is complete, I can pull all the emotion out of it, and polish the performance.

As we discussed this, June mentioned how important it is that research is done, and how she has come to set many times where people haven’t completed their research and she found it to be very confounding. “How can you come to set not knowing the background of the characters or even the project?” June asked rhetorically. “If I can give you any advice, it’s that you always do your homework!” We shared some really funny stories about this. I began to tell her about a friend of mine who does a lot of co-star work, but hasn’t yet been able to be considered for guest star work. It was at that time June asked me, “Does your friend properly prepare?” I was shocked because that was exactly the story to which I was going to begin sharing about another friend named (or is named that for the purposes of this story) ‘Janet’. Janet had relayed a story to me about working on a film where she went to a table read and another actor had so many questions about the background of the story, character, and mission of the story they were telling (reading), and Janet hadn’t even completed a thorough first read of the project. “This could be part of what holds your friend Janet back.” June paused for a moment and after a kind of ‘hmmm’ look on her face she said, ”Does Janet have a theatre background?”

“No.” I replied.

“Ah. I see.”

Research, character development, and discovery are very big parts of preparation for a role, and they are also things which are the core teachings in Acting for theatre. Although doing your homework isn’t the gatekeeper for a successful career, it’s one thing that we can all do to ensure a successful transition to any genre of the industry including transitioning into doing more TV work!

TWO - REHEARSE

In the previous section June mentioned how doing ones homework can make a successful transition into working into television, and how it was something that was emphasized in theatre. There was also a second theatre habit upon which she touched, and suggested would aid me in making a successful transition to working in television, and that was the idea of rehearsal. “I don’t know about you but when I was shooting (Successful Show), for some reason we received the scripts early and had an opportunity to rehearse often”. June mentioned that since her partner for most of the scenes was also a theatre veteran out of the U.K., he also enjoyed the opportunity to rehearse. What came out of it was an ability for them to do a lot of homework and discovery prior to setting foot on set. So much so that when finally able to interact with the set, costumes, and direction they would come up with new things to enhance the performance/show even more. June suggested that getting in rehearsal can make for a fantastic performance, and most of all since I had a theatre background which was heavy in the rehearsal process, she had full confidence that I would be able to transition well into working into television; Regardless of the time constraints given to me. Basically, leaning into making rehearsal a priority alongside ‘homework’ would make this transition into working in television so much easier.

THREE - MAKE EFFECTIVE REQUESTS FOR THOSE THINGS YOU NEED

June gave me a third example of something to do, in order to make an easy transition to working in television. She mentioned that she received what she thought was one of the highest compliments from a fellow actor while filming a guest star spot in an episode of a very big TV show (which I have seen). At the end of the day, the lead approached June and said “I really learned a lot from you”.

“Oh?” June asked.

“Yes, because you asked the A.D. to check in with you to see if you were ready. I thought it was a brilliant way to ensure emotionally preparation to deliver scenes, and each take was usable regardless of tech!”

June mentioned how gracious she felt for the compliment, but also mentioned how this will save everyone time and give them the opportunity to get the shots they need without having to go back. I immediately connected with her on this. I had done this before on the set of both commercials and my current tv show, but had a lot of reservations about applying this to the big budget tv scene. But now I know that doing something like this would also be a good practice in being a smooth team contributor. Basically, requesting things like this, or even specific rehearsals with a fellow actor are nothing but great practices for success and help facilitate a smooth transition into working in the television world.

FOUR - THINK LIKE A CHESS PLAYER AND CONTROL THE NARRATIVE

One of my biggest concerns working in tv is getting typecast, and not being able to do what I call ‘my thang’ via character work. One of the reasons I love performing as an actor so much is because I actually get to put on a brand new skin for a while. Often times one that I’ve created myself. I want to have the opportunity to play a really wide variety of characters. It is why I love this craft so much. However, since TV is so quick, they usually do a lot of typecasting and look for individuals who can play by type or do what I call ‘personality acting’. I define that as basically acting like yourself onscreen in a given circumstance. But that’s not my bag, and I mentioned to my friend June that I have a practice of after I’ve finish playing a role, only accepting the next filmic or episodic role with an opposite character. I mentioned that this is something I learned from watching and studying Gina Davis in acting classes back in the early 90s. June was a little shocked because she said, “I was just going to mention Gina Davis”. June told me that Ms. Davis had done something really fascinating. After completing the filming for a role where she was a very plain character, she did ALL of her press for the project in complete glam. For audiences, this created a complete bifurcation between character and actor. In addition, it displayed a total opposite side of her which made her viable and considerable for other roles. June mentioned that thinking like Gina Davis did in this situation, which was strategic the way that a chess player thinks. Chess players have a goal which is to to hit the target of getting the other side. So, while we may not know our exact path for success, we can be smart about it by thinking a few moves ahead. We can do things to open people’s minds to the possibility of playing a very different role in the future. Telegraph something which will help towards that next move. Basically controlling the narrative. This was a great suggestion for how I could aid in avoiding typecasting, and open opportunities for doing more character work, and by default, more overall work in television.

WRAP UP

In conclusion, Oprah Winfrey once quoted that the definition of luck is ‘opportunity meets preparation’. By doing everything in our power to ensure powerful preparation we can take some incredible opportunities, Including working in television, and regardless of acting style. Our jobs are to properly represent the truth of character so that it can be connectable and relatable to our audience. We can not do this if we are not prepared. If you are a theatre actor transitioning to on camera, then you must find new ways to prepare in a faster and more efficient way. Doing your homework, Rehearsing, Making effective requests for things needed, and controlling your narrative, you can be successful at transitioning to tv. All you have to do is find ways in which those things can work for you. Take some time and think about each of these items. How much time do you usually need to research all the topics? How much time do you need for rehearsal? What kind of things do you need from people to make your experience successful? How can you control your narrative? You may not be able to control the actions of others, but you can definitely controls yourself. This is the focus of almost every article I write is personal responsibility and personal action. By honing in on those things and really thinking strategically, you can not only become more aware, but you can control the trajectory of your experience and career. Including a healthy transition from working in theatre to also working in television.

I hope you found value and inspiration in this post.

Best,

Brian J. Patterson

“Only love can truly save the world!” - Wonder Woman

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ussarchangel · 6 years

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The Adoration of Michael

Star Trek Discovery modern AU

Modern AU: Michael Burnham is used to taking care of herself, but when a handsome stranger rescues her from a heckler at a lecture it may be the start of a new chapter in her life.

Chapter 4: Date the 1st, 2nd Half

rating: Mature

characters/pairings: Michael Burnham, Gabriel Lorca, Michael Burnham/Gabriel Lorca

chapter summary:Date, the first

warnings: swearing

Michel laughed and surveyed the the people waiting for the Doane Observatory telescope. There were still a few people ahead of them in the loosely scattered line.

"That was pretty funny." She said touching his arm. "Tell another."

"Let me think a moment."

After finishing dinner the pair had walked the short distance from the planetarium's main building to Doane Observatory sitting right at the water's edge. A crowd of loosely scattered people lingered in the observatory waiting to use the telescope. The staff, a few younger people in blue t-shirts and polos, moved about explaining the telescope and what they could expect to see tonight.

The Doane Observatory housed the largest and most accurate aperture telescope open to the public in the midwest. The building was a small circle, built around a telescope, the floor covered with cheap gray carpet and the walls a dull beige. Photos of various outer space phenomena like the Horsehead Nebula and the Whirlpool Galaxy and the Leo triplets decorated the walls. At the center of the building was a big white telescope.

"Alright, I've got another one for you." The amusement in his face was clear and Michael, already amused, smiled in anticipation.

"So this actually happened to me."

"We had just got sent to bed about an hour ago. I'm wide awake and staring at ceiling cause it's still first phase I'm afraid to move from the position of attention-"

"-Wait you were at attention in bed?" Michael could barely keep from laughing as she tried to imagine a younger, scared Gabriel in his bed at attention.

"Yes I was, I had heard a lot about how TI's especially liked to pick on officers in basic."

"Okay."

"So I hear the Drill Instructor hatch open and I look over -and there's not a lotta light, just the light from the hall- and all I see is his pointy cover stick out of the door, about a foot off the ground. The TI is low crawling on the floor, straight for me, like some kinda big, angry, bald spider, skittering across the floor."

"Oh my god." Michael pressed her fingertips to her lips to hold back laughter.

"So I'm looking around now to see if anyone else is reacting to this, they aren't. So he comes straight to me and I'm staring at the ceiling again, my rack starts to sink from his weight. He gets right up in my face whispers in my ear:

'Hey Lorca, wake up.'

-"And I just look at him, cause he knew I was awake right?'-

"Y-yes sir?"

"Fuck you Lorca. Goodnight bitch."

She started laughing on the word "bitch" unable to hold it in any longer.

"So I say the only thing I can: "Aye sir. Good night sir"

He then climbed down and low crawled back to this room and slammed the door.

Michael let out another peal of laughter and Gabriel's laugh, a warm rich chuckle, joined hers.

"God, were they just ridiculous on purpose?"

"Actually, yeah, a TI told me that once, after I'd been a captain for a few years. They want trainees to believe they'll do just about anything so they just pull the most ridiculous pranks and trust me, you believe."

His expression was so emphatic that Michael found herself laughing again. He smiled indulgently, eyes crinkling at the corners in the most charming way.

"I'm just glad my suffering amuses you."

"It did, but any more and it will ruin my eye makeup."

"For the sake of your eye make-up then, no more stories."

"Thank you."

The person who'd been using the telescope climbed down the ladder and a tall, light-skinned young woman, wearing a staff t-shirt, and short dark hair climbed up the ladder.

Conversation fell silent as she started speaking.

"Hi everyone my name is Christine. Tonight, stargazers, you're in for a real treat. Earth is in a perfect position to see Saturn, its rings and moons close and clear. In addition to the full moon there is also a comet passing through Saturn's orbit. Like most comets, the tail of this one is made of rock and ice, however this particular rock is an usual shade of red casting a an orange glow on the gas giant so we're getting quite a show. The comet itself has moved out of range of the scope, but you can still see the effect of it passing through Saturn's orbit."

The young woman climbed down and let the next viewer go up.

"You know, it really seems like you loved it, why did you leave it?"

Gabriel stroked his beard while considering his answer and Michael's eyes followed the movement.

Perhaps it was because her father had often had a beard, but well-groomed facial hair on a man always appealed to her. It made a man look like, well,a Man, grown, mature, adult, at least to her. Gabriel's was trim, tidy, well cared for, nice and full. She found herself wondering if it was soft.

"The navy may have been my life for twenty years - a lot of folks thought I should stay with it until retirement age - but I suddenly wanted to join the landlubbers."

He met her eyes then.

"When I was a kid, I was excited about the travel, the ships, the camaraderie, but I lost that somewhere along the way," he shrugged. "Since I didn't have to stay, I decided to get out do something else with my life."

"Like photography?"

He nodded.

"That, work in the civilian sector, live someplace for more than a year. Do what I want? Sleep in?"

"Do you, do what you want?"

"Ha, I still get up at five in the morning, take Buran out for a run, jog."

"I love running, it's a great way to keep fit, start the day off right. It certainly looks like it pays off."

It did. He may have been out of the service for nearly a year now, but he was still lean and fit. Michael could see that even in his white linen suit. His shoulders were nice and broad, waist tapered. He looked good, the blue button-down he wore under his jacket bringing out the clear blue of his eyes.

Gabriel smiled, eyebrows arching, clearly surprised and pleased at the compliment.

"Well thank you."

"You're welcome, you should come running with us one morning."

"Us?"

"Naval buddy Hugh and Buran."

"Sure, might be fun." Michael liked to go for her runs by herself, it helped her to think and feel focused. Still, she might enjoy Gabriel's company some mornings.

Just then, the person at the main scope finished, and it was their turn to view the night's main event.

The landing for the telescope was just large enough for one person. When the person ahead of them finished Christine motioned for them to take their turn.

"Ladies first," Gabriel insisted.

"Thank you." Michael looked at the other young woman. "Do I need to do anything?"

"Nope, just look through there."

She peered through the telescope and her breath caught. The normally colorless Saturn seemed to glow a bright orange, the light of the comet coloring its many moons, and suffusing the rings with their own glow. It reminded her of one of those atom structure models brought to life in breathtaking fiery 3D.

For a long moment, she just stared at the planet picking out the lines of demarcation in its bands as the red-gold glow of it seeped into her memories.

"It's beautiful," Michael said we she finally looked up from the telescope. How did one ever let forget that the universe held wonders like this?

"I think this has to be the most fun I've ever had on a first date," Michael said.

"The most?"

He grinned and looked away, and Michael wondered if he weren't perhaps blushing a bit.

"I must admit I had some reservations, especially when you showed up looking like such a knock-out."

"Why?"

"Shallow of me, I guess," Gabriel said holding the door for her. "But when you showed up I thought to myself, ‘pretty girls don't want to look at telescopes.’"

They stepped out into the night, exiting onto the far side of the circular building and at the farthest point from the street the planetarium sat on, but just a few feet from the water's edge.

"Should we go out the other side, back towards the planetarium and the street?"

"No," Michael said looking out over Lake Michigan. The surface of the lake was black with night but the moonlight fell upon it like rippling waves of molten silver.

"I have to work tomorrow, but it’s still fairly early. I'm in no rush; it's a beautiful night. Let's take the long way around."

Michael pointed to the concrete path that circled the building and the shallow steps that allowed one to walk down the lake or a small beach just behind the planetarium itself.

"Alright."

They started back towards the cul de sac that the Adler Planetarium sat on, where Michael could eventually summon an Uber and Gabriel, she assumed, would make his way toward the Planetarium’s parking to find his car. It was quiet here, just the two of them and the lake, the grass and a few trees. The Chicago skyline, its bright lights twinkling on skyscrapers, shone in the distance and you could look up and down the lake's shore if you wanted.

"So what do the pretty girls do?" Michael asked.

"Back on the spot."

"I'm curious."

"Well, it turns out the prettiest one I know likes astronomy displays and telescopes."

Michael shook her head in amusement.

"As much as I love Chicago, it seems kind of a shame that the city lights have taken away the natural lights."

"Probably one of the few things I don't like about the city. In the country, at least when I was a boy, summer nights went on forever. No one worried, parents didn't lock the doors. You'd walk into your backyard, and the stars were right there, and the fireflies weren't endangered back then, so there'd be hundreds, maybe thousands of them, so you had the stars on the ground with you, and the stars in the sky."

"You miss it."

The path grew dark here, trees overshadowing the lamps along their route. The narrow walk came to a sudden and abrupt end and Michael let out a yelp, backpedaling right into Gabriel as her feet stepped in cold wet grass.

His hands settled on her hips, slowing her backwards momentum.

"Sorry, it’s grass I think, wet grass. I didn't realize."

"You're alright."

Michael fished her phone out of her purse, but Gabriel was ahead of her. The light of his phone showing the walk ending in wet, muddy grass. Michael snorted in annoyance and the hand on her hip moved into the small of her back as Gabriel turned toward the stairs leading down toward the water's edge and the beach. The light from his phone doing little to dispel the darkness cast by the shadows of the trees obscuring the shorter lamps along the path.

"I suppose we'll go that way."

Michael frowned for her response, letting her annoyance with the situation show in her expression.

"Do you want to go back the other way?"

She considered the idea of doubling back around or the almost direct angled line that would put them right in front of the planetarium.

"No, just a second though." Michael activated her phone wishing she hadn't deleted the flashlight app she'd downloaded. It wasn't enough. The light of their phones disappeared almost completely once they were directly under the trees. It wasn't far, but Michael found herself a little nervous walking where she couldn't see.

She was just about to say something to that effect when her foot came down on something in the dark.

"Shit!"

Her right foot went out from under mid-step and suddenly Michael was fighting to regain her balance and avoid a nasty meeting with the concrete. She grabbed for nearest upright thing, Gabriel, and felt a flood of relief at his arms strong and steady and under hers. For a handful of seconds she held onto him, grateful that she was still upright and intact.

"Thank you."

"Of course, let's get where we can see."

The stairs went all along the water's edge, making a circle around the observatory. They walked a few feet in the direction they had come until they were standing again in the moonlight. Gabriel kept hold of her hand and she did not complain.

Michael was close enough to him to smell the warm, rich scent of his cologne he was wearing and she liked the feeling of his hand around hers, warm, strong, dry and when she looked down at their two hands his was nearly large enough to eclipse her own.

"Let's sit a moment," she said.

"Ok," he smiled.

They sat down on the concrete steps, still warm from soaking up the day's sun. He had to relinquish her hand to sit and when Michael settled next him she found she missed it immediately.

"You don't swear much." Gabriel said and Michael frowned.

"What brought that up?"

"Just an observation - not on your YouTube and not since we met, until just now."

"Not appropriate for an ambassador's daughter and not exactly acceptable with the rest of the nerds so it's just habit," Michael shrugged.

"Did you ever rebel? I'm no ambassador's daughter, but I know something about expected behavior."

Michael shook her head.

"In the beginning I was too busy being grateful and then later too busy proving myself to rebel."

The breeze blowing off the lake picked up then, cool and stiff, tugging her hair forward and leaving an array of coils hanging in her face. Michael used two hands to tuck them back behind her ears, noticing Gabriel's regard as she did so.

"What?" She asked even as an errant coil sprung free to dangle itself directly in her line of sight.

"May I?" He asked, expression one of wonder and curiosity.

He caught the corkscrew curl between his index and forefinger, stretching it a bit to run his thumb along its length before tucking the wayward coil in with her sisters and ghosting his hand along the cloudy mane of her hair before setting it a moment on the nape of her neck

"I take it you've never dated a black woman before."

"None with hair like yours." He replied casually.

And the look of wonder in expression transformed into something more earthy as his hand moved in one long caress across her bare shoulder and up the column of her throat to catch her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his intent plain.

He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him.

Her tongue snaked out across her lower lip in anticipation.

His lips found hers not a moment later, warm and soft, a brush across her own, awakening sensitive nerves, sending a familiar, but long unfelt signal to her brain. She liked it, liked him

And then he was lifting his lips from hers, that first kiss a mere taste, brief and fleeting.

Michael opened her eyes and saw him gazing at her. His eyes dark and heavy-lidded, attention fixed wholly on her. She knew that look.

Her uncertainty swarmed back up to the surface, along with Sylvia's suggestion that she use him to fix her "little problem", but she'd have to tell him about “her little problem”.

He leaned in to kiss her again and Michael pulled back. Not in a cute way like a woman in a romcom who didn't quite yet want to be kissed, but in a hard and almost embarrassingly firm way. Gabriel sat back, obviously confused himself. Feeling acutely embarrassed, Michael stood up and walked away, fingertips pressed to her lips.

She'd only managed a few steps when Gabriel came up behind her.

"Michael." She stopped, but didn't turn, certain she was betraying her inexperience in clear and obvious signals.

"Michael." He tugged her arm turning her towards him. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." She said, not looking at him.

"Did I misread back there?"

"No."

"It's been a long time since I had any complaints about my kissing and, uh, I haven't had any garlic tonight..."

The hint of humor in his voice made her look up.

"Your breath is fine, just a little cinnamon and whiskey."

“Ok."

She could hear the prodding tone in his voice.

"And the kiss," she looked up at him, biting down on her lower lip even as a smile tugged the corners of her mouth upward into a smile.

"The kiss was nice, more than nice."

"So."

"It's our first date." She blurted out her mind coming up with a better explanation for her behavior than 'I just feel like I don't know what the hell I'm doing and I panicked.'

"Ahhh," he started to grin then, smug and self-satisfied. "So it was too nice."

She gave a slow, reluctant nod and Gabriel looked altogether too pleased with himself.

"Why don't we finish our walk?"

Still wearing his pleased smile, Gabriel put his hands in his pockets and they started back toward the planetarium.

"How did you get into photography?" she asked, wanting anything to take her mind from her embarrassment.

"Got into it when I was a kid." His eyebrows arched, betraying a faint hint of surprise. "My parents got divorced when I was ten. I was angry, didn't even really understand how angry I was, and this was a big deal back in the 80's, especially in the South."

They reached the street then and Gabriel, sighting a bench, suggested they have a seat.

"I took it out on the other kids." He said looking away from her. "They were happy, or at least it seemed that way. I was unhappy; the world wasn't fair. They needed to know. I ended up getting suspended from school, which was for the best, ‘cause I met my first mentor, Terry Green. He showed me a better way to express myself. I started with drawing, eventually moved onto photography."

"I'm sorry about your parents."

"It was years ago and no worse than any other family."

They sat in silence for a while. Most of the people had gone, the planetarium was closed and the little cul de sac it sat on was mostly empty.

"When I went to live with my adoptive parents, I was so angry. I didn't realize it at first. Sarek, my adoptive father, got me into meditation and martial arts."

Gabriel faced her, resting one arm on the back of the bench, his body angled towards hers, expression attentive.

"The meditation helped?"

"The martial arts helped."

He smiled at that.

"I could hit people as long as I didn't hit them too hard. It was physical, so I could burn off all that energy, and it required discipline and focus. But it wasn't enough. I think I went in the opposite direction that you did. I threw myself into my studies, into learning and doing well."

"Did it work?"

"I think so. I graduated top of my class in high school, same in college, and got my dream job."

"Dream life?"

"Yeah."

Michael fell silent then, frowning at the turn of her thoughts. Uncomfortable with the sudden idea that the anger of her twelve-year-old self had dictated the last eighteen years of her life and perhaps that twelve-year-old hadn't made the best choices.

"What is it, Michael?" Gabriel shifted position so that he was facing her directly. She could see a mixture of concern and curiosity in his eyes.

She shook her head.

"It's too somber for a date; we've been having fun."

"As you like, but if you want to talk about something I'd be happy to listen."

She looked at him squarely now - his blue eyes, his beard, that congenial smile.

"I-I-" She fell silent, not at all sure she wanted to have an existential crisis about her love life on their first date.

"Here," Gabriel held out his hand two fortune cookies in clear plastic wrappers sat in his outstretched palm.

"Where did those come from?" She asked grateful for the distraction from her somber thoughts.

"My family manufactures them."

"Oh."

She plucked one of the cookies from his palm.

"You go first," she said.

"Alright."

Sometimes you just need to lay on the floor.

They both looked down at the sidewalk before snickering.

"Not today."

Michael opened hers, fumbling a moment with the plastic before the pulling the cookie free. It took a second to split the cookie to produce a puzzling fortune:

Trust is key.

"That's a disappointing fortune." She handed the slip to Gabriel. "Did your family manufacture these? If so, I need to lodge a complaint with the owner."

She could see his lips pursed to hold back laughter.

"What's your complaint, ma'am?"

"Well, that is a very disappointing fortune. I already know the value of trust. I wanted to learn my future from a free cookie."

Michael chuckled, and Gabriel did the same, the pair sharing a brief laugh.

"This really has been the most fun I've had on a first date. I should head. I have to get an early start on my day tomorrow." Michael said fishing her phone out of her purse.

"Of course - I'd be happy to drop you off."

"Thank you, but the Uber drive is just a few minutes away."

Michael sat her phone down on the bench.

"I had a really good time." She said meeting his eyes.

"Good. Is it too soon to ask you out again?" He smiled his most engaging and Michael fought the urge to say yes right away.

"I've been advised that I should play hard to get." Michael in a teasing tone.

"Who's giving you this advice?" Gabriel gave her a look of mock offense. "I don't like this person."

"Awww, my best friend is really sweet."

"I'm not dating your best friend, Michael."

Michael laughed in spite of the sliver of possessive jealousy she felt at the idea.

"You better not be." She said, a hint of harshness creeping into her tone.

It was Gabriel's turn to look amused.

"I thought you were playing hard to get. Where's that poker face you told me about?"

She feigned a moment of shock and schooled her expression into one of complete neutrality.

"Damn, that's pretty good."

"Thank you," she replied, keeping her blank expression.

"So, Saturday?"

Michael kept her blank poker face on and watched uncertainty creep into his expression.

"What would we do?" She asked the question in a monotone.

"Dinner, movie, there's an art festival in Hyde Park this weekend."

"That sounds like it could be fun." She said, still keeping her carefully neutral expression and tone of voice.

"So that's how you're going to play it?"

"Play what?" She asked innocently.

"Ok."

Gabriel stroked his beard a moment before moving closer to her on the bench, his hip and thigh pressing against her own, the contact electrifying. He settled a hand over the hand in her lap. Her poker face cracked, eyes widening as he leaned in close. Then he surprised her by pausing and letting his eyes take a deliberate and leisurely tour of her face before dropping them to give her an up-down.

When he met her eyes again they were dark with naked desire and adoration that sent pulse of arousal went all through Michael and she let that magnetic pull draw her toward him. It was the end of their date after all.

Her eyelids fluttered shut; his lips found hers and the hand in her lap slid round to grasp her hip.

Their kiss at the edge of the lake had been soft, sweet. This one was anything but. There was an instant heat at the touch of his lips. He nipped her lower lip, and she opened her mouth for him, letting his tongue - hot, wet and velvet - slip into her mouth.

Taking her opportunity, Michael reached up to stroke his beard and found it soft to the touch as he closed a hand in her soft fluffy hair.

His kiss felt so damned good. The sensitive nerve endings in her lips stirred to greedy wakefulness while his tongue hot and soft stroked her own.

Her phone buzzed then.

The Uber driver. Michael found herself tempted to send them away and sit right there doing what she was doing. It was Gabriel who broke the kiss. For a long moment, she stared into blue eyes darkened with lust.

"Your ride?" He asked voice low and gravelly.

"Yeah."

"Saturday?"

"Mhmm."

Gabriel captured her hand before she could pull it away and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm, blue eyes locked on hers the entire time. A pulse of pleasure went all through Michael's pelvis and his kiss left a tingling spot on her palm.

He stood, pulling her up with him.

She had just enough presence of mind to grab her phone before he walked her to her cab.

#USS ArchAngels #Star Trek Discovery #Lorcham #Michael Burnham x Gabriel Lorca #Michael Burnham #Captain Gabriel Lorca #Gabriel Lorca

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buckybarnesappreciationsociety · 6 years

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“Strongest Emotion” Part 3

Summary: Calm before the storm.

Words: 813

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Fluff and implied smut

A/N: This story has a mind of its own. The ending is happy but there’s a ton of angst sprinkled along the way! Wish I knew how to attach story master list to fic. Thank you for taking time to reading my mess.

**To the wonderful @suz-123!!! You’re an angel.

“I look at you and see the rest of my life in front of my eyes” ~~Unknown

Goofy smiles, butterflies in the stomach, sweaty palms, a sense of loss when you’re apart, are the manifestation of love. One minute you’re daydreaming, next minute you feel rapid heart palpitations.

Such is the case of Y/N and Bucky. He’s been away for a month long mission. The absence drove them batty. Facetime and texting filled some of the void. Only body to body contact would satisfy their thirst.

Waiting on the tarmac, Y/N bounced on her feet. In a matter of minutes, Bucky would exit the quinjet and fall into her waiting arms.

The sound of metal hitting concrete startled Y/N. Steve trudged down the ramp, with visible battle scars; a black eye, multiple cuts on his arms and face.

Y/N stuttered, “H-hey Stevie. Are you alright? Where’s Bucky?”

Groaning, Steve motioned to the quinjet, “He’s right behind me.”

Bucky limped down the ramp. Dried blood in his hair, cuts on his face, an unattended gunshot wound to his left leg.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Lip trembling, Assessing his injuries, Y/N tenderly touched his face. “Baby, what happened? Dr. Cho will patch you up.”

Stubborn as usual, Bucky scoffed, “Naw s’just a flesh wound. I wanna get home, take a hot shower and hold my best girl.”

Y/N crossed her arms, “James Buchanan Barnes, if you don’t go see Dr. Cho, you’ll NEVER touch me again. And I’ll move back into my own apartment. Tony suggested the lovebirds move in together.” Bucky practically lived in her apartment anyway.

Scrunching his face, Bucky caved in. “You drive a hard bargain woman. M’kay, I’ll go.”

Dr. Cho examined Bucky’s bullet wound. “James, your wound is becoming infected. I’ll clean it up, give you some antibiotics. You’re off missions at least a month.” Helen winked at Y/N.

Relief glowed in Y/N’s eyes. Her ‘Sarge’ was grounded for a month.

Bucky didn’t balk at Dr. Cho’s suggestion. He’d spend everyday with the love of his life.

Thanks to quick healing and much needed rest, Bucky was back to his old self. He and Y/N had some serious time to make up for in the bedroom. Not only that, he had an engagement ring nestled in the nightstand.

After an excruciating day at work, Y/N simply wanted to take a long hot shower, put on her comfortable pajamas and go to sleep. Instead, she was greeted by Bucky, wearing a sapphire blue oversized towel, megawatt smile, and hair pulled into a messy bun.

Visibly stunned, Y/N questioned her boyfriend. “What’s this Bucky?”

Chuckling, “Doll, I know you’ve had a hellish day, so I’m spoiling’ya. C’mon sweetheart.”

Bucky intertwined his flesh hand with Y/N, leading her to the bathroom.

Beaming, Y/N approved the room’s ambiance. “I-I’m speechless. Thank you Bucky.”

Laying his hands on Y/N’s hips, Bucky kissed her passionately, tongues fighting for dominance.

“Been too long sugar. Imma love ya nice and slow. First, drop those clothes. Everything’s ready. Only thing missing is YOU!

Not wasting a second, Y/N’s hands shook practically ripping off her clothes.

The pleasing aroma of fresh rain bath bubble bath permeated the senses. Bucky and Y/N eased into the large clawfoot tub, splashing water on the floor.

Bucky and Y/N exchanged loving glances, feather light touches and heated kisses.

The night belonged to them. No missions, training, encryptions, or phone calls. Electricity waltz across their bodies The proposal could wait until morning.

Yellow sunbeams shimmer on Y/N’s naked form. Her beautiful brown hair splayed on his chest, legs tangled together. Bucky kissed her forehead. Carefully untangling her legs, pulling back the cover, Bucky grabbed his sweats. Stealthily closing the door, he meandered to the kitchen starting breakfast. Today, he would pop the question over eggs, bacon, blueberry pancakes, and coffee.

Yawning and stretching, Y/N missed the warmth of Bucky’s body. Telltale signs of last night’s escapades lingered between her legs. She went to the closet and put on one of Bucky’s dress shirts.

“Mmm, something feels marvelous.” Y/N wrapper her arms around Bucky’s waist.

“G’morning doll. Sleep well?” The corners of Bucky’s mouth turned up.

In her sing song voice, “I think you know the answer to that.”

Plating breakfast, Bucky and Y/N feasted in silence. Sensing his leg bouncing, Y/N’s forehead creased.

Getting down on one knee, Bucky pulled the maroon velvet box from his pocket. Y/N’s eyes welled with tears.

“Dollface, you’re my best friend, lover, and confidant. Lemme make an honest woman outta’ya. Will ya marry me?”

Unable to communicate, Y/N mouthed ‘yes.’ She and Bucky sealed it with a scorching kiss.

After showering, Bucky and his fiance’ shared the good news with the team.

@omalleysgirl22 @rebelslicious @pegasusdragontiger @magellan-88 @suz-123 @bexboo616 @shamvictoria11 @3brosangel @bolontiku @chrevastan @irene-rogue-adler @caplansteverogers

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky's in love #sometimes things change

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the-master-cylinder · 4 years

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SUMMARY A “skybike”, a one-man, open-cockpit flying machine, attacks Dogen. Dogen shoots it down and finds one of Syn’s crystals on the pilot’s body. Carved into the crystal is a symbol of a dead tree. Dogen finds a murdered prospector, whose young daughter Dhyana saw him killed by Baal, Jared Syn’s half-cyborg son. Baal sprayed the man with a green liquid that caused a nightmare dream-state, in which Syn appeared and executed him with a crystal. Dogen convinces Dhyana to help him find Syn.

Dhyana takes Dogen to Zax, who identifies the crystal as a lifeforce storage device. Dhyana tells them about the ancient Cyclopians who once used such devices and says the only power against it is a magic mask located in their lost city. Zax affirms this and directs Dogen to find a prospector named Rhodes in the nearby mining town of Zhor.

Dogen and Dhyana are blocked by vehicles driven by nomads commanded by Baal, who sprays Dogen with the green liquid, paralyzing him. Dhyana drives them off and cares for Dogen, who in the dream world finds Syn and Baal looming over him. Syn fails to pull Dogen away from Dhyana: their will is too strong. Dogen awakes, but Dhyana is suddenly teleported away. A summoned monster appears in her place and fires electric bolts at him. Dhyana simultaneously faces Syn in his lair. Dogen shorts-out the creature, and it vanishes.

Dogen arrives in Zhor and finds Rhodes, a washed-up soldier, in a bar. Rhodes denies the lost city’s existence and refuses to get involved. Dogen leaves and comes upon a group of miners beating a captured nomad soldier. Dogen assists him, and the miners turn hostile. Dogen is out-gunned until Rhodes helps him defeat the miners.

Rhodes reluctantly agrees to help Dogen. Deep into Cyclopian territory, Dogen locates a large statue with a single eye and finds the crystal mask. Suddenly attacked by snake-like creatures, they escape, until they are accosted by a group of nomad warriors. Their leader, Hurok, grabs the mask from Dogen and accuses them of trespassing – a capital crime. Rhodes cites nomad law that a warrior can fight for his freedom, so Dogen duels Hurok. When Dogen spares his life, Hurok accepts Dogen as a friend and frees him.

Syn takes Dhyana before a massive crystal and forces her to touch it. Syn says the crystal is powered by captured souls, including that of her father. Dhyana, disgusted, says her warrior will come for her. Elsewhere, Dogen and Rhodes assault Baal’s encampment, and a chase ensues. After evading them, Dogen wears the mask and finds himself in the dream world with a burning tree. In his hand he finds an axe and hacks into the tree. The tree moans like the crystal in Syn’s camp and trickles a stream of blood. Dogen removes the mask and returns to Rhodes. Baal suddenly attacks, extending his robotic arm to spray Dogen, but Rhodes pushes him out of the way and is knocked out. Dogen, struggling with Baal, rips the robotic limb from his shoulder. Baal flees, and Dogen tracks the green fluid to Syn’s camp. He sees the nomads gathered around Syn, and Hurok greets him.

Syn denounces Dogen as an enemy, but Dogen says he has only come for Syn. Hurok refuses to kill Dogen and demands that he be allowed to speak. Dogen says Syn is a liar who wants to enslave them. When the crowd turns hostile to Syn, he activates the crystal, which stuns the crowd. Syn fires blasts at Dogen, but he deflects them with the mask. Baal grabs the mask and it shatters on the ground. Hurok kills Baal, and Syn teleports away. Dogen jumps onto a skybike and chases Syn into the desert, but Syn escapes through an energy portal.

Dogen returns to the nomad camp, finding Dhyana safe with Hurok. Dogen promises to fight Syn if he returns and destroys Syn’s soul crystal. Dogen and Dhyana leave the camp on foot but soon encounter Rhodes in Dogen’s truck. He picks them up and takes them into town.

DEVELOPMENT/PRODUCTION Charles Band-known only for a series of low-budget B-movies had finally cracked the big time, pulling off the success of his career, and doing it on a shoestring METALSTORM is the kind of film that everyone involved with wants to talk about, because so many things had gone right. Unlike other recent 3-D productions, the disappointments and problems during production were minimal. And there was the hope-hinted at during filming, rather than openly stated that they had on their hands that Hollywood rarity: a complete unheralded hit.

Critical response and box-office returns failed to meet that early enthusiasm. By Hollywood standards, METALSTORM fizzled when released. But for producer director Charles Band, his labor of love had struck gold. In the beginning. Band was thinking of METALSTORM in terms no loftier than those of his low-budget 3-D predecessor, PARASITE. “We started with the idea of doing something not much larger than that,” explained the quiet, low-key Band. “But then we began to get excited about the story and got some other very creative people involved, and we decided to go for something much larger.” The final budget figure for METALSTORM was less than $3 million, which makes it a mega budget production after the likes of such other Band projects as LASERBLAST and END OF THE WORLD.

As their concept and aspirations for the film grew, so did its budget and crew, necessitating some sacrifices on the part of those working on the production. Explained screenwriter and co-producer Alan J. Adler: “Neither Charlie (Band) nor I have taken a salary on this movie. We are working for love and deferments.”

But working on the edge has its compensations, according to Adler. “Charlie and I bounce ideas constantly to get the best thing on film that we can,” he said. “If the majors financed this thing, a car full of guys in suits could drive up with some crazy idea, and we would have to do it.”

Free to do their own thing, Adler and Band have come up with a simple story of good vs. evil; cowboys-and-Indians in a galaxy far, far away. METALSTORM’s plot revolves around energy crystals, the source of all power in a barren desert land, which are being exploited by an evil magician to gain ultimate power. Screenwriter Alan Adler conceived the film as a western, with a lot of American Indian mythology.” Working with that metaphor, Jeff Byron fills in for Gary Cooper and Randolph Scott, coming to clean up the lawless town; Tim Thomerson is the old drunken lawman who sobers up to help the hero; Kelly Presto is the shopkeeper’s daughter, kidnapped by the guys in the black hats; Richard Moll is the wise old Indian chief, almost-but not quite duped into supporting the railroad baron who wants to take his people’s lands; and Michael Preston is the all-powerful, black-hearted villain.

“I read everything I could find in the library on the Western mythology before I sat down to write this,” Adler explained. “I just woke up at 3:30 in the morning one day, got into the bathtub and wrote nonstop until I finished the treatment.” Although the setting and time of METALSTORM is left ambiguous, Adler based many of his ideas on the Atlantis legend, a theme he hopes to develop more fully in the proposed sequel.

With METALSTORM, Adler also sought to challenge himself by writing a script with as little dialogue as possible. “The movies started out without any dialogue,” he explained. “Besides, 3-D is a dynamic visual medium, and dialogue seems to stop the action. But just because it doesn’t have much dialogue, it does not mean that there are no characters and ideas in the film. Like a western, everything is very terse; everything means something. Bookish, soft-spoken and unfailingly polite, Adler seems an unlikely candidate for author of films with titles like PARASITE. CONCRETE JUNGLE and METALSTORM. A film buff and genre aficionado since he was nine years old, Adler has been an avid collector of film memorabilia for 20 years, including a priceless collection of old film posters.

Adler learned his craft by writing and producing local television shows in his native North Carolina, where he also attended a graduate school in film. But his life was changed when he saw STAR WARS. “I saw that movie, packed my bags and left town for Los Angeles.”

Band and Adler have a cooperative relationship rare in filmmaking, especially for a writer. “I’m on the set every day,” said Adler. “He helps me re-write scenes, and I stand next to him and make suggestions, constantly, from sunrise to sunset. Directors who do not listen do not have the value of a writer who knows the story and how a character should be portrayed. Charlie is the director, but there is a tremendous amount of give and take.”

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PRINCIPAL PHOTOGRAPHY Principal photography of METALSTORM began in February, and stretched for seven weeks. Filming took place in the Simi Valley, as well as the Vasquez Rock formations outside of Los Angeles. Few interiors were utilized, though the company was driven indoors early in the shoot during two weeks of bad weather. To bring Adler’s mythic Western concepts-as well as plenty of action to the screen, Band assembled an ambitious, hardworking crew of relative unknowns and newcomers, who are trying to make major producers sit up and take notice of their talents.

Among them is cinematographer Mac Ahlberg whose deft work in PARASITE, his first 3-D film, was justly praised. “The reason this movie looks good is because we did not follow the rules,” said Ahlberg. “We had a 3-D consultant at the beginning of the movie, but we got rid of him because he was such a pain in the neck.

“There really are no rules to follow,” Ahlberg continued. “Like when you do a painting or write a book, if you keep to the rules, you get boring. But technicians get very upset when you break the rules. Like when color hit the movies. I spoke to someone who was shooting the first color film, and he had to follow so many rules that it was almost impossible for him to do anything on his own. Now with 3-D, you have all these ‘rules’ and everyone is very scared. I think some 3-D films have failed because people have been so tied to rules.”

Some of the standard” 3-Drules call for long cuts, static cameras and avoidance of high-contrast scenes. Band and Ahlberg ignored them all. “I don’t listen to all those 3-D experts, of which there are lots,” Ahlberg said. “We did some high contrast scenes, and they were some of the best in the movie. Also we tried all the time to let the camera move.” A long Steadicam shot moving through the tent city is a good example of Ahlberg’s innovative 3-D cinematography.

“It’s never been done before.” explained special effects coordinator Frank Isaacs. “They were able to hold convergence on Dogen as he walked through a crowd. It’s as if you were walking behind him. You see the exact proper perspective. It’s a long shot, and you just sit back and enjoy the 3-D.

“Ahlberg knows how to dolly in and out of the scene, keep something on convergence and make it look real, as opposed to what everybody else does: anchor the camera down and let the action come at you,” Isaacs continued. “What he has done is to follow the action and let the foreground and background go their proper paths.”

Another 3-D tenet went by the wayside in their filming of a lightning-quick gunfight in the streets of the tent city, with seven or eight brisk close-ups of faces, guns and lasers blasting into bodies. “Everybody said you must have very long takes, don’t cut too much, cuts are difficult to do, and so on,” said Ahlberg with some impatience. “We found that lots of cuts are very exciting, and the camera should move a lot when people walk.”

Though Mac Ahlberg may not have kind words for 3-D consultants, Chris Condon has a few for Ahlberg. Condon designed the StereoVision lenses used by Ahlberg for PARASITE and METALSTORM, and gave Ahlberg his instructions on the use of the equipment. “There are so few errors in METALSTORM, and those that do exist are very tiny, said Condon, who has often been less than kind to films he and his lenses have been associated with. “Ahlberg really understands 3-D.”

The use of 3-D required extreme precision in shooting the live action. The use of multiple cameras for some shots necessitated extra care in the composition of scenes and the calibration of convergence in each camera. If a scene was planned to cut from a medium master shot to a tight close-up, the convergence of each shot had to be as complementary as possible to spare audiences a wrenching shift in focus, and painful headaches. This forced Ahlberg to be extremely aware of how a sequence might be edited while he was shooting it.

“You have to compose the picture so the audience looks at the thing they should look at,” said Ahlberg. “Because if they look at the wrong things, they definitely get eye pain. If you have converged on a face in the foreground and you have a telephone pole in the back, you have two telephone poles. You actually have this in real life, but you never think of it. You make the audience look at the things you want and not at the distracting things, such as the background.

“We tried to have a continuity of convergence and not strain the eyes of the audience,” Ahlberg added. “That’s one of the things I discovered when we made PARASITE, that you have to keep convergence under control. You can’t converge each shot individually; you have to have a kind of convergence sequence. Every shot’s convergence has to be done considering what it is coming from and what’s going to happen next.

Otherwise, a cut really is not a cut.” Ahlberg continued. “It’s a kind of dissolve, because it takes a second or so for the audience’s eyes to adjust to the new convergence.” Ahlberg believes that the best 3D work pays attention to the depth in a scene. “When you compose a flat picture,” he explained in his Scandinavian-accented English, “you do it so you can get some depth in it, using perspective in the foreground and background. If you compose an image like that and shoot it in 3-D, you get good 3-D. If you don’t make a composition which has depth in itself, if you think 3-D is going to supply the automatic depth for you, then many times you fail.”

Another characteristic of Ahlberg’s 3-D work is the avoidance of too many gimmicks. “In METALSTORM. (Ahlberg) has had the good sense not to abuse the 3-D.” said Isaacs. “He just throws in an occasional gag every once in a while, which works very well. It’s fun, but it’s not to be abused, and that’s what every other film has done so far.”

Despite his success with the process, and the near-unanimous acclaim for his work, Ahlberg is no fan of 3-D. “Really, I hope that I never will have to work on a 3-D movie again,” he said. “I find it so boring, so uninteresting.

“When I see actors in 3-D. I always have the feeling that you are looking through a glass window at them, like they are in a show window. In a flat movie, the actors are very present they seem to be right there. Why? Because in 3-D you have the glasses, the double images, all these things that take the actor far away.

“If I have two alternatives, to make a 3-D movie or not, I will always pick not to make one. I have one exception I like to work with Charles Band. I said when I made PARASITE that I would never make another 3-D movie, and still I’m doing them.”

BEHIND THE SCENES/INTERVIEWS

Actor Jeffrey (Dogen) Byron Remembers Metalstorm

You have been in several Empire films. . Jeffrey Byron: Yes. I met Charles Band when I auditioned for METALSTORM. I had never met him before that. I felt confident about getting the role and after I read for him and the casting director, I guess he agreed. I was hired the same day. They apparently stopped seeing actors after meeting me. Once I started work on the film I had a good rapport with Charlie, and soon after (during the filming of METALSTORM) he offered me the role in THE DUNGEONMASTER.

Which Band production was the most memorable for you? Jeffrey Byron: My favorite was METALSTORM. It was tons of fun to make, and when we were filming it, there was a special camaraderie with the cast and crew. We knew it was a low budget exploitation film but we also knew that it had a chance to be memorable. In the end it has turned out to be quite the cult classic. I enjoyed working with everyone. Tim Thomerson my sidekick and I had fun working together. I am sure there are lots of great (and funny) outtakes in the vaults.

We’re trying to imagine the casting process for THE DESTRUCTION OF JARED SYN… Jeffrey Byron: As I said, I was one of the first actors they saw for the part and once they met me they cast me. After they hired me, I read with many actresses for the part that Kelly Preston played including Demi Moore. She was the favorite and would have been hired but she was doing another project and wasn’t available.

METALSTORM was shot in 3D. Did this pose any challenges for you as an actor? Jeffrey Byron: Not really, other than it being a slow process. Lighting a scene for 3D, at least in that era, was time consuming…

Did you have to endure any grueling make-up or perform any of your own stunts? Jeffrey Byron: Makeup was easy. There were a lot of grueling fight scenes which were fun, but tough. And I loved my costume!

What was Band like as a director? Jeffrey Byron: Charlie was fun to work with. His real gift was the promotion part. He knew how to market a film. He was brilliant at that. He didn’t give me any direction, really. He pretty much left it up to me.

Going head-to-head with Richard Moll must have been intimidating..or is he just a big softy? Jeffrey Byron: Richard was a quiet, introspective guy.. .Nice, and easy to work with, but didn’t say a lot.

POST PRODUCTION/VISUAL EFFECTS METALSTORM’s innovative visual effects benefit from the collaborative efforts of 3-D whiz John Rupkalvis, inventor of StereoScope, working with visual effects supervisor Frank Isaacs and assistant Tom Calabrese. One of the most experienced technicians in the field, Rupkalvis served as both 3-D consultant and visual effects supervisor.

While the film’s live-action scenes were shot with Chris Condon’s StereoVision lenses, special effects photography used Rupkalvis’ StereoScope 3-D system, which works with, instead of replacing the prime lens of a regular 35mmcamera. To photograph miniatures in 3-D, it’s necessary to reduce the “interaxial distance” between the lenses from the standard 2.5 inches to as little as a quarter of an inch or smaller to create the illusion of scale. Since the range of interaxial distances on most single camera set-ups is somewhat limited, twin-camera rigs were employed on both SPACEHUNTER and JAWS 3-D.

But StereoScope offers the advantages of variable interaxial with the relative convenience of a single camera, presenting the regular lens of the Mitchell camera with an image already in the proper over-and-under format. Advantages of the single-camera system for effects work include less light loss than a beamsplitter and savings in the cost of film stock and lab work.

The effects requirements for METALSTORM ranged from simple rotoscope animation to complex blue-screen composites combining as many as five elements in a single shot. While 3-D effects were also featured in JAWS 3-D and SPACEHUNTER, the work of Rupkalvis, Isaacs and Calabrese (collectively working under the banner “Fantasy Creations”) was completed independently, and the trio were forced to experiment on their own to solve some of the vexing problems faced by those working with 3-D special effects.

“Hardly a day went by,” Rupkalvis said, “when we didn’t do something and suddenly realize that what we had done had never been accomplished before.

“There may be a model of the skycycles flying through the air, going through a background shot of a canyon, and at the same time it might include a live action shot of a real actor in a vehicle below, shooting rotoscoped lasers,” Rupkalvis added. “What’s really mind-boggling is that it’s all being done in 3-D, and every point, all the way through, matches.”

What makes 3-D effects so difficult, according to Rupkalvis, is the precise positioning required of the different elements within the frame at any one moment. While effects technicians for flat films speak in terms of background plate and foreground model, backgrounds” for 3-D effects are often both dimensionally closer to the screen and further back than the subject of the shot.

To insure that the models were always in the correct location in space, Isaacs and Rupkalvis would take precise measurements of the model at each frame of a particular shot. “We measured things with micro measuring equipment, with divisions as small as 4 millionths of an inch,” said Rupkalvis. “We took the 3-D down a 20-foot track, dividing each frame into increments. In some cases, when a model was on an angle, we had to take different measurements on the nose and tail, because we didn’t want the tail to appear to skim a rock that the nose clears.”

Their care pays off in an atmospheric night shot, where, surrounded by a crowd holding flaming torches, Dogen jumps on a skycycle to give chase to the fleeing Jared-Syn. The scene shifts to a long shot where a one-sixth-scale model of the cycle, matted into the live action, rises up and flies gradually out of the scene, staying in correct size, perspective and depth throughout the shot. The effects team even put the flickering light of the torches on the model, holding cutouts in front of the lights and moving them precisely for each frame of the cut.

METALSTORM’s climactic scenes feature a breathtaking chase on the skycycles through narrow canyons. To put the cycles in their proper places within the scenes, they and the background footage not only had to match in terms of size and perspective, but with convergence as well.

The convergence point determines the position in space of the entire scene; that is, which elements within a shot will appear to be off the screen, at the screen, or seemingly behind the screen. When the right and left-eye images are precisely overlapped, they will appear to be at the screen. The more the two images are “offset,” the more they will appear to be in front of or behind the screen.

A typical shot might involve a model skycycle flying towards a distant mountain. If the background element is improperly converged, it could appear to be much closer to the screen than originally intended. Instead of the skycycle appearing to be miles away from the mountain, it would appear to be flying straight into the side of a cliff.

The problem was compounded by the fact that the model shots were largely done before filming the backgrounds, because of scheduling problems. So, instead of flying the cycles through pre-filmed background scenery, the effects crew had to search through thousands of feet of footage to find cuts that would match the movement of the cycles.

“Since a lot of our shots were from ‘God’s point of view’ above the two models, you could get away with separate movement from the background,” said Isaacs. “It kind of makes it look more interesting. If you are going around a cliff and there is enough space to fit the model in, it doesn’t matter if he’s moving off axis.”

Much of the excitement of the final chase belongs to the dramatic point-of-view shots flying through the canyon. Much of the credit for those, according to the effects crew, belonged to pilot Vance Colvik. “I’ve never seen anyone do the things he did,” said Isaacs. “There’s one shot as the ground is coming up from 100 or 500 feet away. He was spinning and turning so you didn’t know which way was up.”

Al the climax of the chase, JaredSyn uses his evil powers for an escape to another dimension through a tunnel of energy. To create the effect, the effects team builta long, tapering triangular tube of plexiglass and hung it from monofilament wire. They mounted lights on the motion control system and closed off all but a narrow line of illumination.

“In complete darkness, with the camera positioned at the mouth of the tube, we raked the lights down the tube toward the camera,” said Isaacs. “We would shoot one pass, back the film up, shoot another, back it up, shoot another, up to 30 passes on one piece of film. We used multiple colors-reds, greens, blues-by taping colored gels over the slit of light. Sometimes we did more than one color on a single pass. It looks like pulses of light or energy coming at you down the tube. Since it’s made of plastic, everything reflects off the sides, so you get multiple triangles.”

Much of the effects work on METALSTORM involved shots that required rotoscope animation, including lasers, glowing energy crystals, the hyper-space tunnel featured in the climax, and assorted other effects. While rotoscope animation effects appear relatively simple, they’re very time consuming. Ultimately, three different animation crews were brought in at the final stages of postproduction.

An in-house team, Jan Carlberg and Tony Alderson, worked on the glowing energy crystals, the teleportation effect when Dhyana is whisked away to Jared-Syn’s headquarters, and selected laser beams, as well as coordinating the work that had to be farmed out. A second team, headed by SPACEHUNTER veteran Ernie Farino, was contracted to provide additional laser effects and other elements. Finally, a crew at Millenium Studios, the effects facility of New World Pictures, supplied optical enhancement for the sequence involving the “Chimera,” the energy beast that attacks Dogen.

3-D rotoscoping involves making two drawings for each frameone for each eye-drawn precisely to match the two slightly different views of the scene in which the artwork will be matted in. The primary challenge is to fool the audience into thinking that the flat artwork has the same degree of depth as the live action elements in the scene.

“If it’s drawn wrong (with the wrong convergence) in 3-D, even though it looks right on the flat picture, it could go to the wrong place or even come out backwards,” Rupkalvis explained. “The artist has to find the proper displacement in the actual scene where the drawing will be used. The difference between right eye and left eye drawings might not be that much, but you still have to match the scene.

“For each new frame, the drawings have to move a little bit,” Rupkalvis added. It may seem simple, just drawing point to point, but you have to be very careful with the positioning in space. If you have many elements, you don’t want the lasers to hit something in between. Every element that’s added has to relate exactly to every element that’s in the original photography.”

The rush to the theaters also affected the completion of the film’s optical effects. While bluescreen elements had been shot back in March and April, background plates weren’t shot until early June. Frank Isaacs spent three days screening thousands of feet of aerial footage before turning everything over to compositor Greg Van Der Veer, the son of renowned optical expert Frank Van Der Veer.

“Van Der Veer only had four weeks to composite everything,” Isaacs explained. “That included all the blue-screen shots, the lasers, everything. When you realize that it sometimes can take weeks to composite just one or two shots, you can see the kind of job he did for us. He locked himself away in a little room with an optical printer for four straight weeks and saved us!”

MAKE UP AND PHYSICAL SPECIAL EFFECTS Much of what the audience sees in METALSTORM from scars to scarves, from sidearms to Ball’s bionic arm-are the creations of Makeup Effects Labs, a partnership of three relative newcomers, Alan Apone, Frank Carrisosa and Doug White, who have been practicing their craft since their early teens. In fact, two of the partners, White and Apone, have known each other since their days at Culver City Junior High School in the Los Angeles area.

Back in those days, White was fascinated with drawing and building models and mechanical devices, while Apone had ambitions to be an actor. After they met, they haunted the local movie theaters together, sometimes seeing as many as four films in a single day.

They moved on together to Los Angeles City College, where they majored in drama and art. White did make up for the theater arts department, while reading voluminously to learn different techniques on his own. Apone turned from acting and began to concentrate on art direction and set design.

After school (and some excursions into other fields of employment), both White and Apone took positions with makeup artist Tom Burman, building articulated dummies for PROPHECY. In this highly creative setting, they had the opportunity to learn a vast range of techniques and tools of professional special effects makeup. They also met Frank Carrisosa, who would become the third partner in MEL.

In 1979 they decided to weld their varied talents together to start their own studio. Beginning in a modest 1,000-square-foot facility, their first film contract was EVILSPEAK, for which they created special makeup prosthetics and special effects.

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Now housed comfortably in a, large industrial space in the San Fernando Valley, the three mesh their talents on a busy schedule of projects, working with a cadre of freelancers to offer a wide array of effects, costumes, props, models, masks and special make ups. Each of the three plays a different role in the team. “When we are working together,” Apone explained, “Doug : does a lot of the designing, I handle most of the business, and Frank I will head the shop as far as the techniques used and how we will rig things.”

For the versatile trio, METALSTORM was a field day, a chance to strut their stuff and exhibit every facet of their talents. Like many others involved in the film, their work was largely done for love, and a chance to show what they could do.

“We’d like to be a one-stop house for a producer,” said Alan Apone. “We want to give the producer everything he wants for the money he wants to spend. Obviously, you can’t do STAR WARS for $10,000. But we’d like to give producers the best they can get for $10,000.”

Some of MEL’s most unusual work involved the facial makeup appliances for the Cyclopeans, a race which is supposedly mutating and losing their features on one side of their face. “We started with a book on human deformities,” said White, but found that the actual way a human would look without an eye was too lifeless. So, we had to sculpt in more character, taking the liberty of adding wrinkles and other features. You have to overdo it even more for 3-D, which needs more light, and that tends to flatten out features. For Dogen’s tan, we had to make it much darker than usual for the same reason.”

MEL also had to abandon an ambitious plan to make sclera contact lenses which would give the Cyclopeans a double-iris effect. “I was going to melt two lenses together to show that their eyes were growing together,” White said. “I was going to do a chrome eye for the machine side of Baal’s face. All the scleral contacts got junked, however, because the actors can only wear them for a half an hour at a time. The eye gets starved for oxygen if you wear them too long, and we just didn’t have time on the production to work around that.”

The creation of Baal, Jared Syn’s bionic boy, was the most demanding undertaking for the makeup effects team, involving appliances and props which took five hours each day to apply. There were seven appliances for the face and skull alone, including one which looks like a surgically-implanted metal skull with staples all around the head to hold it in place.

“It’s all latex foam painted in silver pigments,” White explained. “Latex foam can be made up to be either very flexible or very dense, although it never really becomes hard. You use the flexible foam for the facial appliances, so the expressions of the actor will come through.”

Played by R. David Smith, an accomplished mime who was born without his left arm, the Baal character also has a pneumatically-operated mechanical arm, which shoots a green hallucinatory liquid just before he uses the death crystals. The arm featured three telescoping tubular sections and claws that folded out to grasp objects. Each section was pushed out by air pressure through small tubes attached to a compressor.

In reality, three arms were built: one that actually extended, one that was rigged to be torn off, and one which shot the glowing green liquid. “We shot it from every angle possible,” said White. “We did dolly shots as it flipped out in motion. We telescoped it toward the camera, and we fired the liquid into the camera.”

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The makeup crew originally tried to use Chemlite, the green glow found in “night sticks,” for the liquid in Baal’s arm, but its rumored toxicity forced an alternative. “They were going to use it in POLTERGEIST for the veins in the corridor monster,” said White, “but the story I heard was that the guy didn’t want the chemical near him, since he couldn’t be sure what his next child would be like.” Instead, White used ordinary fluorescent paint, which proved to be a suitable alternative.

Pneumatics were used again for one ambitious effect that never made it past the editing room: a shot in which Baal “mummifies” Dyana’s father as he steals his life force. Small tubes were attached at different points inside a life-like foam mask of the actor’s face. As the life force was drained, the bladders were deflated one by one by Frank Carrisosa, who operated valves leading to an air compressor. The resulting effect makes the face seem to shrivel and dry up. The effect was designed to avoid the use of expensive postproduction opticals, a must on the film’s tight budget.

While the “mummification” didn’t make the final print, MEL’s glowing “energy beast” did. Dubbed the “Chimera,” the electrically charged beast is sent by Jared-Syn to kill Dogen. While the sequence was enhanced in postproduction by a team from Millenium (Roger Corman’s in-house effects studio). it was designed as a simple in-camera effect. An MEL Cew sculpted a full body suit and cast it in rigid latex foam. The suit was then covered with Scotchlite paints, which act on the same principle as highway road signs and front-projection screens: while they look dull gray in ordinary light, they shine with a brilliant glow when light is aimed directly at it, in line with the camera lens. To complete the effect, the light was pulsated with a rheostat. “The idea was to come up with something you could do optically in camera, instead of doing rotoscope animation, White said.

The Chimera short circuits itself by stepping in a puddle of molten metal, which Dogen has blasted out of a wall of rock. Winston Jones, the actor inside the costume, slowly folded up his body, and the details of the costume were lost in the Scotchlite glow. The actor was then pulled from the scene, and a shot was taken of the background. A piece of animation of the beast shrinking into the earth was then rotoscoped onto it.

In addition to creating creatures and prosthetic makeup. MEL also provided designs for many of the film’s sets, props and the rugged, desert-scoured costumes, which were made by Kathie Clark, from concepts by White and H. R. Girard, an MEL illustrator.

The Cylcopeans’ costumes look like heavy leather carved in the shape of an exoskeleton. In reality, they were made from rigid latex foam that was sculpted, molded and painted. The use of latex had an unexpected benefit according to Doug White. “In the dailies, it even sounds like leather, like someone wearing chaps,” he explained. “When the actors moved or brushed up against each other, it creaked.”

The Nomads are outfitted in heavy, concealing robes, topped by menacing masks with energy crystals in their foreheads. Originally numbering only 15, their numbers grew to more than 10 (dubbed newmads’ on the set) for certain crowd scenes. As some scenes got bigger and bigger, eventually even a few ‘crew-mads’ were required. For one shot, even co-producer and screenwriter Alan Adler was suited-up. In low-budget films, everyone gets into the act.

SOUNDTRACK/SCORE For composer Richard Band (the director’s younger brother, by two years), the frantic rush to complete the film meant there was less than a month available to write more than an hour of original music. “In fact,” said Band, “I got the final reel a day and a half before my recording session!”

But Richard Band wasn’t really complaining-it was his brother, after all, who launched his musical career in 1977 with LASERBLAST. And although Band has worked for a number of other producers in the six years since (see 13:5:14), half of his assignments still come from big brother Charlie.

“Since we’ve worked on several films together, Charles trusts me to do whatever I want to do,” Band told writer Randall Larson. “He puts the music in my hands completely. On METALSTORM, he never even heard the main theme unul the recording session.

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“Working with your family puts different types of pressures on you,” Band added. “I can exert a type of clout. But I can’t play some of the games I do with other directors when I’m working with family, just because it’s family.”

If Band’s deadline was tight, the musical opportunities were vast. METALSTORM was Band’s first “big” score, integrating a vast array of electronics with a 70-piece symphony orchestra (nearly twice the size of any orchestra he had previously worked with).

The result was thematically simple, yet complexly textured. Band worked with Producers Music Organization and programmer Gary Chang for the electronic portions of the score-performed by four keyboard players using more than a dozen different synthesizers, which was recorded live with the orchestra at the Burbank Studios recording stage.

RELEASE/DISTRIBUTION After principal photography ended in late April, editor Brad Arensman began to assemble the footage. One of his first chores, however, was to complete an 18-minute 3-D demo reel for use at the Cannes Film Festival, where the world’s film buyers gather each year. Both Charles Band and actor Jeffrey Byron made the rounds in late May, and both were elated by the reception the film received. Band returned to Los Angeles to screen the demo reel- which included several completed effects composites-for several domestic distributors. Universal, about to launch JAWS 3-D at more than a thousand theaters, took a strong interest. Reportedly, Universal executives were worried about the financial prospects of JAWS 3-D, and looked at METALSTORM as an inexpensive follow-up to run in those theaters that had already altered their projection equipment to run JAWS 3-D. Unlike the case with most pick-ups, where months may pass between an initial screening and a final deal, Universal agreed to distribute the film in a matter of days.

“When you show a product reel like the one we did, distributors always ask to see the rest of the footage,” explained screenwriter and co-producer Alan Adler. “When we showed it to Universal, they said it was a pleasure to see that the rest of the movie was as good as the product reel. Some people there said they liked the additional footage more. It was a real validating experience.”

There was only one catch. In order to release the film three weeks after the opening of JAWS 3-D, Universal needed a completed print no later than July 27. That gave Band and his postproduction crew less than two months to shoot some badly needed pick-up shots, finish the opticals and to cut, loop, score and mix the film.

Even as Band was completing the score and Van Der Veer the opticals, the marketing department of Universal Pictures was gearing up for the film’s August release. In addition to the standard barrage of print, television and radio campaigns, Universal attached a 3-D trailer to every print of JAWS 3-D, the first new trailer to be shown in 3-D in a generation.

CONCLUSION In the weeks before the film’s release, hopes from Band and his crew were running high that METALSTORM would transcend its humble origins and take on the proportions of a major hit. Alan Adler began work on the script for METALSTORM II, with plans for a trilogy. “We’d already started talking about certain monsters and landscapes,” Adler said. “It was to be one of the most all-encompassing pursuits of all time. Not only would Dogen pursue Jared-Syn through time, but through other dimensions as well.”

There was even talk about merchandise tie-ins. “If Band handles the marketing right,” Frank Isaacs said, “every kid is going to have a little Baal doll. I can see the kids at dinner, squeezing his stomach, sticking out a little arm that will shoot out green water.”

But visions of a sequel-or of millions of Baal dolls pushing E.T. off the shelves-were a bit overenthusiastic. Although it grossed more than $2 million in its opening weekend at 550 theaters, the film was pounded by most of the nation’s critics (except for the two Los Angeles dailies, which gave the film mixed reviews), and grosses dropped off quickly.

We made some mistakes,” admitted Band, already at work on a number of upcoming projects, including the revival of David Allen’s long-dormant THE PRIMEVALS. “But it’s only my second film as a director, so it was a great step as far as practicing my craft. It taught me a lot as far as what not to do next time.

Although hardly a blockbuster, METALSTORM will return a profit to its investors-and to the crew members who worked for little or no money to see that the film got made. Such profits should allow Band the luxury of slightly higher budgets the next time around, and perhaps even a more relaxed pace in which to work.

“The scenes in METALSTORM that looked the best were the ones I took the most time with,” Band said. “With $2.5 million, you can only shoot so many weeks, so you can’t give the time and attention that every scene needs. I took five or six moments in the film-the dream sequences, the scene where Baal gets his arm ripped off, and a few others-and spent a lot of time on them; too much time, in fact, in terms of our overall budget.

CAST/CREW Directed Charles Band

Produced Charles Band Albert Band Alan J. Adler

Written Alan J. Adler

Jeffrey Byron: Dogen Michael Preston: Jared-Syn Tim Thomerson: Rhodes Kelly Preston: Dhyana Richard Moll: Hurok R. David Smith: Baal Larry Pennel: Aix Marty Zagon: Zax Mickey Fox: Poker Annie

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY Cinefantastique v13n06-v14n01 Delirium#03 Fangoria#30 Fangoria#28

Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn (1983) Retrospective SUMMARY A "skybike", a one-man, open-cockpit flying machine, attacks Dogen. Dogen shoots it down and finds one of Syn's crystals on the pilot's body.

#80sFilms #BAND #EMPIRE

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randomguywholikesstuff · 7 years

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Man’s Search for Meaning, Victor Frankl

Experiences in a Concentration Camp

“Life is not primarily a quest for pleasure, as Freud believed, or a quest for power, as Alfred Adler taught, but a quest for meaning. The greatest task for any person is to find meaning in his or her life. Frankl saw three possible sources for meaning: in work (doing something significant), in love (caring for another person), and in courage during difficult times”

“Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation. You cannot control what happens to you in life, but you can always control what you will feel and do about what happens to you.”

“I therefore admonish my students both in Europe and in America: “Don’t aim at success—the more you aim at it and make it a target, the more you are going to miss it. For success, like happiness, cannot be pursued; it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side-effect of one’s dedication to a cause greater than oneself or as the by-product of one’s surrender to a person other than oneself. Happiness must happen, and the same holds for success: you have to let it happen by not caring about it. I want you to listen to what your conscience commands you to do and go on to carry it out to the best of your knowledge. Then you will live to see that in the long run—in the long run, I say!—success will follow you precisely because you had forgotten to think of it.”

“I think it was Lessing who once said, “There are things which must cause you to lose your reason or you have none to lose.” An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior”

“I did not know what was going on in the line behind me, nor in the mind of the SS guard, but suddenly I received two sharp blows on my head. Only then did I spot the guard at my side who was using his stick. At such a moment it is not the physical pain which hurts the most (and this applies to adults as much as to punished children); it is the mental agony caused by the injustice, the unreasonableness of it all.”

Love and a Beloved as a Saving grace

“In a position of utter desolation, when a man cannot express himself in positive action, when his only achievement may consist in enduring his sufferings in the right way —an honorable way—in such a position man can, through loving contemplation of the image he carries of his beloved, achieve fulfillment.”

Humor as Coping Mechanisms

“The attempt to develop a sense of humor and to see things in a humorous light is some kind of a trick learned while mastering the art of living. Yet it is possible to practice the art of living even in a concentration camp, although suffering is omnipresent.”

Hard to Blame for Favoring Friends

“Who can throw a stone at a man who favors his friends under circumstances when, sooner or later, it is a question of life or death? No man should judge unless he asks himself in absolute honesty whether in a similar situation he might not have done the same.”

Suffering Impacting Character

“A man’s character became involved to the point that he was caught in a mental turmoil which threatened all the values he held and threw them into doubt. Under the influence of a world which no longer recognized the value of human life and human dignity, which had robbed man of his will and had made him an object to be exterminated (having planned, however, to make full use of him first—to the last ounce of his physical resources)—under this influence the personal ego finally suffered a loss of values. If the man in the concentration camp did not struggle against this in a last effort to save his self-respect, he lost the feeling of being an individual, a being with a mind, with inner freedom and personal value.”

Meaning in Suffering

“It can be said that they were worthy of their sufferings; the way they bore their suffering was a genuine inner achievement. It is this spiritual freedom—which cannot be taken away—that makes life meaningful and purposeful.”

“An active life serves the purpose of giving man the opportunity to realize values in creative work, while a passive life of enjoyment affords him the opportunity to obtain fulfillment in experiencing beauty, art, or nature. But there is also purpose in that life which is almost barren of both creation and enjoyment and which admits of but one possibility of high moral behavior: namely, in man’s attitude to his existence, an existence restricted by external forces. A creative life and a life of enjoyment are banned to him. But not only creativeness and enjoyment are meaningful. ”

“The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the suffering it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity—even under the most diffcult circumstances—to add a deeper meaning to his life. It may remain brave, dignified and unselfish. Or in the bitter fight for self-preservation he may forget his human dignity and become no more than an animal.”

“Such men are not only in concentration camps. Everywhere man is confronted with fate, with the chance of achieving something through his own suffering.”

“that which was ultimately responsible for the state of the prisoner’s inner self was not so much the enumerated psychophysical causes as it was the result of a free decision. ”

“A man who could not see the end of his “provisional existence” was not able to aim at an ultimate goal in life. He ceased living for the future, in contrast to a man in normal life. Therefore the whole structure of his inner life changed; signs of decay set in which we know from other areas of life. The unemployed worker, for example, is in a similar position. His existence has become provisional and in a certain sense he cannot live for the future or aim at a goal.”

“A man who let himself decline because he could not see any future goal found himself occupied with retrospective thoughts. ”

“But in robbing the present of its reality there lay a certain danger. It became easy to overlook the opportunities to make something positive of camp life, opportunities which really did exist. Regarding our “provisional existence” as unreal was in itself an important factor in causing the prisoners to lose their hold on life; everything in a way became pointless. ...

Instead of taking the camp’s diffculties as a test of their inner strength, they did not take their life seriously and despised it as something of no consequence. They preferred to close their eyes and to live in the past. Life for such people became meaningless.”

“Any attempt at fighting the camp’s psychopathological influence on the prisoner by psychotherapeutic or psychohygienic methods had to aim at giving him inner strength by pointing out to him a future goal to which he could look forward. Instinctively some of the prisoners attempted to find one on their own. It is a peculiarity of man that he can only live by looking to the future—sub specie aeternitatis”

“What does Spinoza say in his Ethics? —“Affectus, qui passio est, desinit esse passio simulatque eius claram et distinctam formamus ideam.” Emotion, which is suffering, ceases to be suffering as soon as we form a clear and precise picture of it.”

“Nietzsche’s words, “He who has a why to live for can bear with almost any how,” could be the guiding motto for all psychotherapeutic and psychohygienic efforts regarding prisoners.”

“Life ultimately means taking the responsibility to find the right answer to its problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for each individual. These tasks, and therefore the meaning of life, differ from man to man, and from moment to moment. Thus it is impossible to define the meaning of life in a general way. Questions about the meaning of life can never be answered by sweeping statements. “Life” does not mean something vague, but something very real and concrete, just as life’s tasks are also very real and concrete. They form man’s destiny, which is different and unique for each individual. No man and no destiny can be compared with any other man or any other destiny. No situation repeats itself, and each situation calls for a different response. Sometimes the situation in which a man finds himself may require him to shape his own fate by action. At other times it is more advantageous for him to make use of an opportunity for contemplation and to realize assets in this way. Sometimes man may be required simply to accept fate, to bear his cross. Every situation is distinguished by its uniqueness, and there is always only one right answer to the problem posed by the situation at hand”

“Long ago we had passed the stage of asking what was the meaning of life, a naïve query which understands life as the attaining of some aim through the active creation of something of value. For us, the meaning of life embraced the wider cycles of life and death, of suffering and of dying.”

“This uniqueness and singleness which distinguishes each individual and gives a meaning to his existence has a bearing on creative work as much as it does on human love. When the impossibility of replacing a person is realized, it allows the responsibility which a man has for his existence and its continuance to appear in all its magnitude. A man who becomes conscious of the responsibility he bears toward a human being who affectionately waits for him, or to an unfinished work, will never be able to throw away his life.”

“The right example was more effective than words could ever be”

“The immediate influence of behavior is always more effective than that of words”

“Was Du erlebst, kann keine Macht der Welt Dir rauben.” (What you have experienced, no power on earth can take from you.) Not only our experiences, but all we have done, whatever great thoughts we may have had, and all we have suffered, all this is not lost, though it is past; we have brought it into being. Having been is also a kind of being, and perhaps the surest kind.”

“From all this we may learn that there are two races of men in this world, but only these two—the “race” of the decent man and the “race” of the indecent man. Both are found everywhere; they penetrate into all groups of society. No group consists entirely of decent or indecent people. ”

Logotherapy in a Nutshell

“but in the first place, can you tell me in one sentence what you think the essence of psychoanalysis is?” This was his answer: “During psychoanalysis, the patient must lie down on a couch and tell you things which sometimes are very disagreeable to tell.” Whereupon I immediately retorted with the following improvisation: “Now, in logotherapy the patient may remain sitting erect but he must hear things which sometimes are very disagreeable to hear.”

“However, there is something in it, inasmuch as logotherapy, in comparison with psychoanalysis, is a method less retrospective and less introspective. Logotherapy focuses rather on the future, that is to say, on the meanings to be fulfilled by the patient in his future.”

“logotherapy defocuses all the vicious-circle formations and feedback mechanisms which play such a great role in the development of neuroses. Thus, the typical self-centeredness of the neurotic is broken up instead of being continually fostered and reinforced.”

Will to Meaning

“Man’s search for meaning is the primary motivation in his life and not a “secondary rationalization” of instinctual drives.”

“There are some authors who contend that meanings and values are nothing but defense mechanisms, reaction formations and sublimations.” But as for myself, I would not be willing to live merely for the sake of my “defense mechanisms,” nor would I be ready to die merely for the sake of my “reaction formations.” Man, however, is able to live and even to die for the sake of his ideals and values!”

“Man’s will to meaning can also be frustrated, in which case logotherapy speaks of “existential frustration.” The term “existential” may be used in three ways: to refer to (1) existence itself, i.e., the specifically human mode of being; (2) the meaning of existence; and (3) the striving to find a concrete meaning in personal existence, that is to say, the will to meaning”

“A man’s concern, even his despair, over the worthwhileness of life is an existential distress but by no means a mental disease.”

“Logotherapy regards its assignment as that of assisting the patient to find meaning in his life. Inasmuch as logotherapy makes him aware of the hidden logos of his existence, it is an analytical process.”

“Logotherapy deviates from psychoanalysis insofar as it considers man a being whose main concern consists in fulfilling a meaning, rather than in the mere gratification and satisfaction of drives and instincts, or in merely reconciling the conflicting claims of id, ego and superego, or in the mere adaptation and adjustment to society and environment.”

“Thus it can be seen that mental health is based on a certain degree of tension, the tension between what one has already achieved and what one still ought to accomplish, or the gap between what one is and what one should become.”

“What man actually needs is not a tensionless state but rather the striving and struggling for a worthwhile goal, a freely chosen task.”

Existential Vacuum

“At the beginning of human history, man lost some of the basic animal instincts in which an animal’s behavior is imbedded and by which it is secured. Such security, like Paradise, is closed to man forever; man has to make choices. In addition to this, however, man has suffered another loss in his more recent development inasmuch as the traditions which buttressed his behavior are now rapidly diminishing. No instinct tells him what he has to do, and no tradition tells him what he ought to do; sometimes he does not even know what he wishes to do. Instead, he either wishes to do what other people do (conformism) or he does what other people wish him to do (totalitarianism).”

“In actual fact, boredom is now causing, and certainly bringing to psychiatrists, more problems to solve than distress. And these problems are growing increasingly crucial, for progressive automation will probably lead to an enormous increase in the leisure hours available to the average worker. The pity of it is that many of these will not know what to do with all their newly acquired free time.”

Meaning of Life

“What matters, therefore, is not the meaning of life in general but rather the specific meaning of a person’s life at a given moment. ”

“One should not search for an abstract meaning of life. Everyone has his own specific vocation or mission in life to carry out a concrete assignment which demands fulfillment.”

“In a word, each man is questioned by life; and he can only answer to life by answering for his own life; to life he can only respond by being responsible. Thus, logotherapy sees in responsibleness the very essence of human existence.”

Essence of Existence

“Such a precept confronts him with life’s finiteness as well as the finality of what he makes out of both his life and himself.”

“It is, therefore, up to the patient to decide whether he should interpret his life task as being responsible to society or to his own conscience. There are people, however, who do not interpret their own lives merely in terms of a task assigned to them but also in terms of the taskmaster who has assigned it to them.”

“By declaring that man is responsible and must actualize the potential meaning of his life, I wish to stress that the true meaning of life is to be discovered in the world rather than within man or his own psyche, as though it were a closed system.”

Discovering Life’s Meaning

“According to logotherapy, we can discover this meaning in life in three dif- ferent ways: (1) by creating a work or doing a deed; (2) by experiencing something or encountering someone; and (3) by the attitude we take toward unavoidable suffering.”

Meaning in Suffering

“We must never forget that we may also find meaning in life even when confronted with a hopeless situation, when facing a fate that cannot be changed.”

“It is one of the basic tenets of logotherapy that man’s main concern is not to gain pleasure or to avoid pain but rather to see a meaning in his life. That is why man is even ready to suffer, on the condition, to be sure, that his suffering has a meaning.”

“But let me make it perfectly clear that in no way is suffering necessary to find meaning. I only insist that meaning is possible even in spite of suffering—provided, certainly, that the suffering is unavoidable.”

“Edith Weisskopf-Joelson, before her death professor of psychology at the University of Georgia, contended, in her article on logotherapy, that “our current mental-hygiene philosophy stresses the idea that people ought to be happy, that unhappiness is a symptom of maladjustment. Such a value system might be responsible for the fact that the burden of unavoidable unhappiness is increased by unhappiness about being unhappy.”

The Super-Meaning

“What is demanded of man is not, as some existential philosophers teach, to endure the meaninglessness of life, but rather to bear his incapacity to grasp its unconditional meaningfulness in rational terms. Logos is deeper than logic.”

Life’s Transitoriness

“Thus, the transitoriness of our existence in no way makes it meaningless. But it does constitute our responsibleness; for everything hinges upon our realizing the essentially transitory possibilities. Man constantly makes his choice concerning the mass of present potentialities; which of these will be condemned to nonbeing and which will be actualized? ”

“At any moment, man must decide, for better or for worse, what will be the monument of his existence.”

“Nothing can be undone, and nothing can be done away with. I should say having been is the surest kind of being.”

Paradoxical intention

“Logotherapy bases its technique called “paradoxical intention” on the twofold fact that fear brings about that which one is afraid of, and that hyper-intention makes impossible what one wishes.”

Hyper Intention

“The fear of sleeplessness12 results in a hyper- intention to fall asleep, which, in turn, incapacitates the patient to do so.”

“Paradoxical intention is no panacea. Yet it lends itself as a useful tool in treating obsessive-compulsive and phobic conditions, especially in cases with underlying anticipatory anxiety.”

“anticipatory anxiety has to be counteracted by paradoxical intention; hyper-intention as well as hyper- reflection have to be counteracted by dereflection; dereflection, however, ultimately is not possible except by the patient’s orientation toward his specific vocation and mission in life.16 It is not the neurotic’s self-concern, whether pity or contempt, which breaks the circle formation; the cue to cure is self-transcendence!”

The Collective Neurosis

“Every age has its own collective neurosis, and every age needs its own psychotherapy to cope with it. The existential vac- uum which is the mass neurosis of the present time can be described as a private and personal form of nihilism; for nihilism can be defined as the contention that being has no meaning.”

Critique of Pan-Determinism

“every human being has the freedom to change at any instant. Therefore, we can predict his future only within the large framework of a statistical survey referring to a whole group; the individual personality, however, remains essentially unpredictable. The basis for any predictions would be represented by biological, psychological or sociological conditions. Yet one of the main features of human existence is the capacity to rise above such conditions, to grow beyond them. Man is capable of changing the world for the better if possible, and of changing himself for the better if necessary.”

Tragic Case for Optimism

“As we see, a human being is not one in pursuit of happiness but rather in search of a reason to become happy, last but not least, through actualizing the potential meaning inherent and dormant in a given situation.”

“Meaning orientation had subsided, and consequently the seeking of immediate pleasure had taken over.”

Cause of the Plague of Meaninglessness

“As to the causation of the feeling of meaninglessness, one may say, albeit in an oversimplifying vein, that people have enough to live by but nothing to live for; they have the means but no meaning. To be sure, some do not even have the means.”

“unemployment neurosis.” And I could show that this neurosis really originated in a twofold erroneous identification: being jobless was equated with being useless, and being useless was equated with having a meaningless life.”

“The truth is that man does not live by welfare alone.”

Meaning Actualization

“Isn’t it the same with life? Doesn’t the final meaning of life, too, reveal itself, if at all, only at its end, on the verge of death? And doesn’t this final meaning, too, depend on whether or not the potential meaning of each single situation has been actualized to the best of the respective individual’s knowledge and belief?”

“And how does a human being go about finding meaning? As Charlotte Bühler has stated: “All we can do is study the lives of people who seem to have found their answers to the questions of what ultimately human life is about as against those who have not.”5 In addition to such a biographical approach, however, we may as well embark on a biological approach. Logotherapy conceives of conscience as a prompter which, if need be, indicates the direction in which we have to move in a given life situation. In order to carry out such a task, conscience must apply a measuring stick to the situation one is confronted with, and this situation has to be evaluated in the light of a set of criteria, in the light of a hierarchy of values. These values, however, cannot be espoused and adopted by us on a conscious level—they are something that we are. "

“In any case, if a pre- reflective axiological self-understanding exists, we may assume that it is ultimately anchored in our biological heritage. As logotherapy teaches, there are three main avenues on which one arrives at meaning in life. The first is by creating a work or by doing a deed. The second is by experiencing something or encountering someone; in other words, meaning can be found not only in work but also in love. Edith Weisskopf-Joelson observed in this context that the logotherapeutic “notion that experiencing can be as valuable as achieving is therapeutic because it compensates for our one-sided emphasis on the external world of achievement at the expense of the internal world of experience.”6 Most important, however, is the third avenue to meaning in life: even the helpless victim of a hopeless situation, facing a fate he cannot change, may rise above himself, may grow beyond himself, and by so doing change himself.”

“From this one may see that there is no reason to pity old people. Instead, young people should envy them. It is true that the old have no opportunities, no possibilities in the future. But they have more than that. Instead of possibilities in the future, they have realities in the past—the potentialities they have actualized, the meanings they have fulfilled, the values they have realized—and nothing and nobody can ever remove these assets from the past.”

“It is that which warrants the indelible quality of the dignity of man. Just as life remains potentially meaningful under any conditions, even those which are most miserable, so too does the value of each and every person stay with him or her, and it does so because it is based on the values that he or she has realized in the past, and is not contingent on the usefulness that he or she may or may not retain in the present. More specifically, this usefulness is usually defined in terms of functioning for the benefit of society. But today’s society is characterized by achievement orientation, and consequently it adores people who are successful and happy and, in particular, it adores the young. It virtually ignores the value of all those who are otherwise, and in so doing blurs the decisive difference between being valuable in the sense of dignity and being valuable in the sense of usefulness. If one is not cognizant of this difference and holds that an individual’s value stems only from his present usefulness, then, believe me, one owes it only to personal inconsistency not to plead for euthanasia along the lines of Hitler’s program, that is to say, “mercy” killing of all those who have lost their social usefulness, be it because of old age, incurable illness, mental deterioration, or whatever handicap they may suffer.”

“Confounding the dignity of man with mere usefulness arises from a conceptual confusion that in turn may be traced back to the contemporary nihilism transmitted on many an academic campus and many an analytical couch.”

“So, let us be alert—alert in a twofold sense:

Since Auschwitz we know what man is capable of.

And since Hiroshima we know what is at stake.”

#victorfrankl #manssearchformeaning #quotes #life #meaning #logotherapy

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http://tribelamagazine.com/luis-rodriguezs-post-laureate-updates-vromans-kcet-fx-tvs-snowfall-tia-chucha-press/ TribeLA Magazine • Los Angeles I finished my term as Los Angeles Poet Laureate at the end of 2016. In two years, I spoke or read poetry to an estimated 25,000 people in over 200 events, and millions more in English and Spanish language TV, radio, publication, and Internet media. #Allartallthetime #Arttoday #Luisrodriguez #Tiachuchapress #Tribelamagazine #Vromansbookstore

New Post has been published on http://tribelamagazine.com/luis-rodriguezs-post-laureate-updates-vromans-kcet-fx-tvs-snowfall-tia-chucha-press/

Luis Rodriguez's Post Laureate updates: Vroman's, KCET, FX-TV's Snowfall, Tia Chucha Press, a new book + more

Pasadena’s Vroman’s Bookstore “Walk of Fame” dedication to Luis Rodriguez

by Luis J. Rodriguez

Photo by Arlene Mejorado

[hoot_dropcap]I finished my term as Los Angeles Poet Laureate at the end of 2016.[/hoot_dropcap] In two years, I spoke or read poetry to an estimated 25,000 people in over 200 events, and millions more in English and Spanish language TV, radio, publication, and Internet media. My press, Tia Chucha Press, released the largest poetry anthology of L.A.-area poets called “Coiled Serpents: Poets Arising from the Cultural Quakes & Shifts of Los Angeles,” edited by Neelanjana Banerjee, Daniel A. Olivas, and Ruben J. Rodriguez.

One of the poems I wrote for the city, “Love Poem to Los Angeles,” was read on KPPC-FM and published in Rattle magazine. Filmmaker John F. Cantu also did a great short video of this poem with music by Quetzal Flores, accessible here.

Graffiti Verite’s Bob Bryan created a unique, wonderful documentary film of me as poet laureate. Click here for more info and how to order.

My previous poetry books from Curbstone Press were also republished (“The Concrete River,” “Trochemoche,” “My Nature is Hunger”) and a new book appeared during my tenure called, “Borrowed Bones.” Here’s how you can order the latest book: http://www.nupress.northwestern.edu/content/borrowed-bones.

Then in early 2017, I became a script consultant for the FX TV show “Snowfall,” co-created by John Singleton. I helped shape major parts of the show, which after 10 episodes has been picked up for another season, and I’m back on the team.

Also, in October 2016, I restarted my creative writing classes at Lancaster Prison, which I began ten years ago. I now have two maximum-security yards (Level 4) where I’ve now taught three 13 to 15 week classes. I also got to visit Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall with my son Ramiro, who was given special permission since he did 15 years in Illinois prisons. He was a hit among the young people, male and female. Earlier this year, Ramiro joined me in talks to two healing circles of the Guiding Rage Into Power (GRIP) program in San Quentin Prison (again, with special permission of the warden). Ramiro is becoming a powerful speaker, storyteller, and poet.

In addition, I finished a new book—my 16th—that I turned in to my literary agent two weeks ago at the Sandra Dijkstra Agency. They will be searching for the best publisher, and then perhaps more changes are in store. For now I’ve done 13 essays, personal as well as political, including arguments against Trump’s America, but moreover a vision for a new America informed by indigenous cosmology and revolutionary thought and strategies of the past 200 years. I can’t say anymore, but I’m excited for what will happen. Title pending. For more on my thoughts based on my blog go to www.luisjrodriguez.com.

My wife Trini and I also continue our healing/recovering work with the sweat lodge and healing circles. This coming year I will be celebrating 25 years sobriety, 25 years since the publication of “Always Running” (more to come about this, including major events planned), and 30 years of marriage to the most wonderful, loving, and beautiful partner. We have four children, five grandchildren, and three grand-grandchildren. Again, we will plan various things in 2018 to commemorate all this. Meantime, you can listen to the podcast Trini and I started about two years ago called “The Hummingbird Cricket Hour” on SoundCloud and iTunes. Here are our latest podcasts on SoundCloud.

In addition, you should know that my wife Trini was featured in a special KCET TV presentation on December 5th called “Telling L.A.: The Search for Home.” Click here to view the program.

I also did a podcast for “The Soul of California” with Richard Doan that you can link here: http://thesoulofcalifornia.libsyn.com/luis-rodriguez-angry-at-injustice-hungry-for-change.

Vroman’s Walk of Fame, Luis Rodriguez

One amazing event—on top of so many—was being honored with a handprint and signature on cement in front of Pasadena’s Vroman’s Bookstore for their “Walk of Fame.” This occurred on November 18, 2017. African American Los Angeles journalist Lynell George afterwards held a dialogue with me that one of the best I’ve ever had, punctuated with cake.

Also here are our Tia Chucha Press books of 2017. These are “The Wandering Song: Central American Writing of the United States,” edited by Leticia Hernandez Linares, Ruben Martinez, and Hector Tobar—the first literary anthology of Central American writers of the diaspora every published. Also “From Trouble to Triumph: True Stories of Redemption from Drugs, Gangs, and Prison” by Alisha M. Rosas. This book features the moving stories of five homeboys from my old neighborhood gang, and how they overcame the odds to be clean and sober, and one “rival” gang member (I no longer have “enemies” among any of them). Includes photos. A powerful testament to personal change and transformation, changing the narrative that people on drugs, in gangs, or in prison can’t change.

And Tia Chucha Press is also proud to announce “Counting Time Like People Count Stars: Poems by the Girls of Our Little Roses, San Pedro Sula, Honduras,” edited by Spencer Reece. Our Little Roses is the only home for abandoned children in Honduras, founded and run by US teacher Diana Frade and her husband, Leo Frade, an Episcopal Bishop. Reece, an American Episcopal priest and poet, now based in Spain, began teaching poetry to girls from the home and put together this wonderful book, which includes marvelous essays by writers who have also taught there. Trini and I were two of the poets who traveled to San Pedro Sula, then the most violent city in the world, and taught poetry to the girls and at a coed bilingual school for a month last year. Amazing photos by Mary Jane Zapp.

In the spring of 2018, we will present “A South Side Girl’s Guide to Love and Sex,” poetry by Mayda Del Valle, famed “Def Poetry Jam” performer and so much more.

I want to leave you with great news: Tia Chucha’s Centro Cultural & Bookstore, the nonprofit arts & literacy, cultural space my wife Trini and I helped create, is now celebrating 16 years of providing arts, writing, music, dance, theater, and more workshops, indigenous cosmology, an art gallery, a bookstore, a performance space, a weekly Open Mic, and more to around 15,000 people a year in the Northeast San Fernando Valley. We’ve raised more than a million-and-a-half dollars in donations from the community, but also support from friends like Bruce Springsteen, John Densmore of the Doors, Cheech Marin, Lou Adler, and others in the music and film industry, as well as grants, earned income from our bookstore and press (Tia Chucha Press). Now we have our biggest grant yet—$300,000 over two years from the Art for Justice Fund that is geared to change the narrative and reality of mass incarceration. This begins in April of 2018. We have tons of planning to do. The project will entail workshops, presentations, film, books, and more. The title is “From Trauma to Transformation” and addresses those people behind bars (through my work with the Alliance for California Traditional Arts), formerly incarcerated (which we have some here at Tia Chucha’s, including Ramiro, but also with other organizations), and to stop the “School to Prison Pipeline” with students and youth (tied to our youth empowerment group, The Young Warriors, where Ramiro is a mentor). We want to replace this with pipelines to healing, growth, authenticity, and empowerment. Our aim is to address all prisons, seen and unseen, behind actual bars and those in our communities, which serve like gateways to these, such as poverty, trauma, addictions, diminishment, and more. All through the arts.

More on this later as we begin to make it happen. Here’s an article about this important fund:

Please consider donating to Tia Chucha’s to match this important fund that should be transformative at all kinds of levels. Go to https://tiachuchas.nationbuilder.com/donate.

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All Tia Chucha Press books can be obtained at this link.

#allartallthetime #arttoday #luisrodriguez #Tiachuchapress #tribelamagazine #vromansbookstore

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