#the bones of this was a sketch from 2019! which feels like the last time i posted art lmao

[noodlezara]

Red Dead Redemption Fic - Arthur Morgan

I thought I would share a short story I wrote maybe in 2019 (?) when playing through RDR2 for, maybe, the 4th time hehehe. I’ve never written properly before aside from really cringe fanfiction for One Direction so… hopefully I am not too bad.

Don’t think there is any warnings to give either!

-

Red and amber light shimmered lightly over the vast waters of Flat Iron Lake as Arthur sat slumped over on a rock jutting out of the riverbed a little ways away from the dock and the camp. Sunrise was approaching, made apparent by the way the birds chirped a fair amount louder than they had been an hour prior, which urged him to rise from the quiet yet stressful atmosphere of the camp and peacefully sketch in his journal before chaos ensued and the people around started to prepare for yet another day.

With a graceful flick of his wrist, the sound of a worn-down graphite pencil on scratchy paper was the only thing he could hear as he focused on the task at hand, not entirely sure on what he was trying to create as of now. It was sort of therapeutic; a de-stressing, rhythmic thing to do that calmed him a tad bit more than usual. That, added to the fact that no one was around yet to pester him or send him on a thousand and one trips around the surrounding area, made him feel more at peace- more human- than usual.

Simple and mundane tasks had become the most important to him as he grew older. He was getting tired of constantly living with fear in the back of his mind, always wondering whether or not this would be his last day with the people in camp, whether or not this day would be the one where all that was good so far would come crumbling down at a split second.

Lifting his head from the sketchbook, he peered beneath the frayed rim of his old hat, looking over at the campsite as the first few people start to make themselves known. He spots the older man as he saunters over toward the freshly brewed coffee pot. He had evidently not had much time to rest- the apparent stiffness in his bones making walking first thing in the morning not as easy as it had been before.

A short sigh of relief escaped Arthur as he shut his sketchbook, thankful for even a second of tranquility away from the extremity of the camp during the day. The contrasts of the morning and afternoon had a very stark difference. He wasn't sure which one he preferred. Of course, the silence and peace had its positives... but he also knows he wouldn't be able to function in his day to day life without his family surrounding him and distracting him from his thoughts that ran around his mind.

Striding over the grassy land in which they inhabited, he passed many of his friends, barely awake and functioning, as he greeted them in his usual cheery manner. Majority of them replied, albeit in a rather groggy and rude manner, and he continued on with his day as though the last one never stopped.

“Hey there,” He nods at the older blond man, as he leans against the tentpole close to the embers of the campfire and hooks his hands around his belt. Gesturing at the almost empty coffee pot, he speaks a bit louder than before.

“You got any of that to spare?”

“Sure, Arthur. Take a seat will you?”

Gratefully accepting the warm cup of coffee, he sits for a minute or two, conversing with a few more people around the fire before he decides he’s had too much time to rest already. Quickly scanning around the rest of the area, he spotted his little nephew running around, particularly energetic for this time in the morning, playing with a few sticks he had found and pestering his mother as he goes about it. It's little things like this that make him laugh, make him realise that this is what life should be about. He would never admit it but it warmed his heart to see his campmates happy and free, especially his two father figures and his brother.

Despite this all, there's always a small part in the back of his head that wonders if there really is more to life than what they have right now. A part that wonders how different things would be if he had just made a couple of minuscule changes in the past or if his decisions could have led to a better fate for the rest of the group.

“Hey, Arthur!” He hears a chorus of greetings from the group of girls as they get started on their chores for the day so as to not enrage the older lady later in the day. Tipping his hat, he greets them back and sticks around long enough to have a decent conversation. He often wondered why they seemed so eager to talk to him, he thought there were better things they could be doing. Nonetheless, he was thankful for them thinking of him and at least seeming interested in his opinions.

Approaching the edge of the trees, he stops near where his horse is hitched after he grabs a list off of the butcher's table that states which necessities they are running low on. He stuffed it in his pocket with a breathy scoff. Why on earth do we spend all this money on ingredients when the stews always end up godawful and bland?

A sharp whinny catches his attention as he looks back up from underneath his hat. His horse, a lovely golden brown colour, seems to be eager to leave the confined space of the camp, and can tell he's about to be leaving.

“Hey, girl.” He cracks a smile at the horse, the wrinkles around his bright eyes becoming much more prominent all of a sudden. A gentle pat and a quick adjustment of her saddle later, he began his travel into the nearest town feeling a bit more refreshed and happier than he had been in a while.

-

Rhodes was definitely not the worst town he had been to, but there was something about it that felt off. Arthur couldn't tell where that feeling was coming from so he shrugged it off hesitantly. Considering he was somehow deputy in the town, he assumed he would be fine and that these doubts are just resurfacing from how he felt in Blackwater and Strawberry. It was hard to trust anything or anyone these days so this looming feeling of impending doom wasn't a stranger to Arthur.

Pearson’s ingredient list had been purchased, and Arthur decided to upgrade his gun by adding a small carving onto it. If he couldn't make himself look good, the least he could do is make his equipment and horse look admirable. His improved gold toned plated weapons also seemed to add a sense of style to him whenever he happened to be carrying them- which was basically all the time. He thanked the gunsmith and walked out of the store while slinging his newly varnished Lancaster over his shoulder somewhat carelessly. Apparently, it was a bit more careless than he intended.

He accidentally knocked into someone who happened to be sitting on the bench next to the door to the gunsmiths.

“Oof-” The girl looked up from cleaning her gun in shock, her hand dropping the cloth and coming up to her forehead where the butt of the gun had bounced off with a thwack. Her hair messily fell out of the pins holding it back off her face as she rubbed at her hairline in an attempt to ease the pain.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry Ma’am, I didn’t realise you were there. You okay?” Arthurs accent thickened slightly in the midst of his nerves. A kind yet concerned look clouded over his light eyes as he stepped forward toward the woman. He debated helping her somehow but ultimately decided that was too awkward and that it was a bit unbecoming to do that. Instead, he scratched the back of his neck and adjusted the gun on his back.

“It's okay, Mister. Happens all the time.” She chuckles as she picks the cloth and gun oil back up that she had previously dropped. “The guns mighty fine, by the way. Makes it better than being hit round the head with some of the stuff people bound out of there with. Some of the men around here are very peculiar.” They both laugh under their breath and stand in awkward silence for a few seconds.

“Okay well, uh, catch you later then.” He half attempts to tip his hat as he walks down the steps, immediately scrunching his face as soon as he turns away from her at his poor choice of words. Perhaps this was a sign that he shouldn’t be in Rhodes. He’s been here for less than a week and has already embarrassed himself more than he did in Valentine (...At least, more times than he did sober.).

The ride back into camp was a slightly grueling journey to Arthur, as his mind replayed the events from the day which, at first, had caused him to groan inwardly at the social interactions he had accidentally caused himself to have. But as he rode on he started to wonder why it was affecting him so much. Those strangers wouldn’t remember him, nor would they see him again.

He did what he does best and pushed his worries to the back of his mind and focused on getting the food back to camp in time for dinner.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #van der linde gang #rdr #red dead redemption two

[bugchuckles]

i’m just like other girls, i do have the ashley tisdale cover of kiss the girl on retainer 🧜🏃‍♀️

#mermay #gravity falls #mabel pines #pacifica northwest #pines pops and pacifica at sea #ppapas #mermaids #mermabel #pacifibel #blewish pines twins #mabel sara pines #pacifica elise northwest #my art #the bones of this was a sketch from 2019! which feels like the last time i posted art lmao #i drew this in under 5 hours last night i was POSSESSED. spirit of marine mabifica compelled me #i swear i'll put more art out im done w school for the summer! maybe #will it be more ppapas? an animatic? the parapines comic? pride art? who knows! not me! #mabifica

[magicofthepen]

💡☀️⭐ for knock the ice from my bones? (haven't read anything else you've written unfortunately)

send me questions about my fic! 

thank you for sending these!!

💡- What was the motivation behind the story?

ooh Backstory Time: so this is my first Gallifrey fic! (okay, All These Restless Ghosts is also my first Gallifrey fic, because that was the first one I finished and posted, but the first Gallifrey writing I ever did was for the fic that ended up becoming knock the ice from my bones.) 

I wanted to write a character study about Romana and relationships post-Etra Prime, continuing through the Gallifrey audios, but I hadn’t written fic in years and didn’t have a good understanding of the scope of such a project. so I ended up with about 3k of a post-TAE, pre-Gallifrey audios Romana character study before stopping. plus maybe an additional 15k of headcanons and notes and ramblings about Romana and her personal relationships. (fun fact: the og Romana Headcanon Doc ended up being the basis of a lot of my other fics, although many of the headcanons evolved over time.)

this was in summer 2019, for reference. so I set that fic idea aside to work on All These Restless Ghosts/Eye of the Storm/So Cold It Burns/the original Echoes Between Us. but I liked the idea of reworking the Apocalypse Element/Neverland/Zagreus stuff that I’d written into a character study just focusing on that time period. so that idea ended up on my long list of Stuff To Write Eventually.

skip ahead to summer 2020, when it landed on my list of Active Projects. but while the original idea was to focus on Romana’s struggles with forming relationships, I realized that identity should really be the main theme of this fic. (aka Romana struggling to figure out who she is after Etra Prime, as she’s constantly having who she’s not thrown in her face.) I re-outlined it and drafted the new version - which meant lots of new scenes, but also lots of fleshing out scenes that I’d already written, which were pretty sketch-like in the 3k version. (actually, if anyone’s interested, it might be fun to post a “before and after” comparison of a scene?)

that draft is pretty close to the final version - although the “italics” bits were the big thing I added later. I felt like it needed something to better tie the individual scenes into one cohesive character analysis…hence the “there was once” refrain, which shifts as Romana’s sense of identity is destabilized more and more, and shifts again to “there is” when she manages to claim a sense of identity at last. (one of the tricky bits of this fic for me was wanting to tell a story that had some sort of conclusion, while also knowing that the effect of Etra Prime on Romana’s sense of self lasts far longer than the scope of this fic. so I basically asked myself ‘how does she get from where’s she at post-TAE to where she’s at in Weapon of Choice?’ and went from there.)

☀️ - Was there symbolism/motifs you worked in?

the “there was once” sections (the storytelling motif)! these snippets of stories Romana tells herself about who she is, the story changing each time, until all of these contradictory, not right ideas are racing together in her head and is she any of these people? who even is she anymore? 

the “there was once” language is meant to evoke parables with simple characters and themes because Romana’s trying so hard to tell herself this nice, neat story…..but the effects of trauma are so much more complicated than that, and so the simple story never sticks. 

leaning on the language of storytelling was also important to me because telling herself a story about herself is something we actually hear Romana doing in the aftermath of Etra Prime. and I know the fanfic is a Fun Joke thing, but I also wanted to explore it (indirectly, the fic never explicitly references it, but the implications are there) as a kind of coping mechanism. 

If the Daleks never existed, who would she be? A young student who took to the stars and decided the whole universe was worth knowing? An experienced traveler who said that staying behind was worthwhile, too? A bold politician who believed that where you're from might be just as important as where you’re going? What would people mean, when they said Madam President, daughter of Heartshaven, Romana?

If she is destined to be the villain of this story, would she be the hero in a different one?

The walls of the presidential suite trap sound. If she screams, no one can hear. If she paces into the hours of the morning, feet wearing the same tired tracks on her rugs, no one will know.

If she tells herself a story, one where she made the right choices, where she didn’t fail, wasn’t trapped, never disappointed anyone who believed in her — if she tells herself a pretty lie because sometimes it’s the only thing keeping her breathing, who will ever care?

⭐ - What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?

whoops I already posted an excerpt…and this is already so long so I’m going to go with a short-ish moment - the one time I let Romana have the catharsis of an emotional breakdown (and also the tragedy of the only person she can let herself cry around is her robot dog). 

A metallic whirring cuts through her thoughts, and she flinches, eyes darting to exits and potential weapons before a part of her remembers that sound.

“Mistress?”

“K9?”

Twenty years. He’s still here.

K9 rolls out onto the carpets of her sitting room and cheerfully explains how the interim president had his circuits maintained and found his databanks of knowledge useful at times for dealing with a minor crisis. She doesn’t speak for a full microspan.

Then she lets herself stumble, fall to her knees to reach out one hand to the robot dog who was her only companion for so many years. There is something bubbling in her throat that she can’t name, something she hasn’t let herself feel in so long. She presses a hand to his cool metal exterior and blinks and blinks.

“Mistress? Is something wrong?”

She shakes her head, but her eyes are burning and her chest is tight and she buries her face in her arms.

“I missed you,” she whispers, her voice breaking at last, “I missed you.” And here in her old rooms, next to the only old friend she has left, she cries for the first time since Etra Prime.

#also a partial motivation behind the new version was ‘can I make the Bellescon thing work for me?’ #given it goes against her reaction to the oubliette in Neverland... #her hostile and uncompromising relationship with the CIA at this time.... #her scathing insistence in series 1 that she would never sanction genocide (and her horror at those who *would*).... #alas i didn’t succeed #i like the writing in that scene i wrote #with her and narvin #but no matter how hard i tried i couldn’t convince myself that it was *in character* #for her to concede like that #(also my explanation relies on the oubliette’s existence not becoming public knowledge.... #and there’s actually a line in lies that implies it *did* #but i realized that while editing and didn’t want to have to re-think the whole thing again) #gallifrey audios #asks #emokyoshi #ramblings #romana #fic talk

[spaceorphan18]

Author Meme

On October 29, 2019 @redheadgleek​ tagged me in this.  I am now going to complete it.  ;) 

Name: Spaceorphan

Fandoms: In terms of things I’ve written fic for - Glee, MCU/Marvel/X-Men, The Office

Where You Post: Only on Ao3.  Though I’ll crosspost here on tumblr. 

Most Popular One-Shot: How I Met My Soul Mate - A Drunken Kurt Story

I’m still pretty proud of this one! It’s hilarious - you should read it. ;) 

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: 99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story.  

An ambitious work that is now complete! Check it out! (Also, I’m sure some day when I finish the Smut Challenge - that’ll end up being my most popular story ever.  Just a feeling.) 

Favorite Story You Wrote: With Every Broken Bone  

I still go back and read it from time to time.  However, I think once I finish Head Over Feet - that might pass it by.  

Story You Were Nervous to Post: Oh, probably that Stucky self-insert smut thing I wrote a few years ago, because I just wanted to see how well it’d do compared to my Glee stuff.  I don’t get nervous to post things very often though.  

How You Choose Your Titles: Ug, picking titles is the worst.  Song lyrics a lot of times - or just literally something that reflects what the story is.  

Do You Outline: Always.  The best part of writing is doing the outline.  

Complete: Just sticking with Glee - I have 4 major works and 21 one-shots written. 

In Progress: Hahahahaha.  Sticking with Glee still, I have 4 WIPs going, 1 unpublished WIP, and 2 WIPs on definite hiatus. 

Shortest Fic:  Rush - a MCU fic at 365 words.  I’m putting it here because it’s adorable and I encourage you to read it.  

The shortest Glee fic is  Broadway at 382 words.  

Longest Fic: Okay, ha story time.  

It’s my Office Fic One Week at 158,197 words long, which happens to be the very first fic I ever wrote way back in, like, 2007 or something.  It wasn’t even really finished - though the last chapter before the end can be seen as an ending.  This thing is a beast, and I’ve never gone back and read it so... yeah. 

Unsurprisingly, my longest Glee fic is  99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story at 81,693 words long.  Wonder if the Smut Challenge will pass that.  

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: Well... 

Chasing Pavements is going to get its wrap up over the next month. 

Head Over Feet will be my focus when that’s one done

I think I’m going to polish those off then continue on with both The Smut Challenge and Spaces In-Between, both of which are longer and more ambitious things.  

Other fic ideas that I have percolating.

I’ve been wanting to do a longer, fuller version of Glee’s Final Season Sketch I did four or five years ago.  I think it might be my next big project once the above are done.  I’ve also been toying with finally wrapping up The CrossRhodes Saga and Changed For the Better.  

I don’t really have any new ideas after that though.  Not sure if anyone wants anything new? There are a few MCU ideas I’ve kicked around over the years - but nothing I’ve really managed to get off the ground. 

Do You Accept Prompts: I mean people don’t usually send them to me, but you’re welcome to if you like! 

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: I mean, I’m looking forward to finally finishing Chasing Pavements.  It’ll be nice to have that off my plate.  I’m looking forward to digging into Head Over Feet because it’s the type of story I’ve wanted to write since I started Glee fandom.  And then digging into Spaces In-Between, because it’s THE Kurt story and it’s also something I’ve really wanted to do for a long time.  

#glee #glee fic #about me #thanks redheadgleek! #i've been meaning to do this for ages

[popcrone818]

Fate - Alec Lightwood

Let me just say before I start, yes I am aware that Alec is gay! I have read the first book, (getting the rest for my birthday) and I am so in love with Malec it is so not even funny anymore, but at the same time I read fanfiction and fiction in general to escape to put myself in the shoes of the reader. So when I write that is also what I do. I don’t know how to write in a male’s perspective and I’m not about to write a full story about it. 

so in short, I am sorry to whoever I offend by posting this story. But I have been Brewing it over in my head since October 2019. So all I can say is I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think. <3

I never knew who my mother was. She left me on the doorstep of the Lightwood’s when I was just a baby. Alexander Lightwood and I grew up together, wreaking havoc on Maryse and Robert since before we could talk. The Lightwood’s were exiled from Idris before my first birthday and with Alec and I in tow Maryse and Robert moved to New York, where they proceeded to have Isabelle, and where they adopted Jace Wayland. The Four of us were never seen without each other as we grew up. Alec became Jace’s Parabatai and Izzy and I were close to it ourselves, we just never got around to doing the ritual while we were growing up.

When Clary joined the institute, Jace and Alec seemed to be in a disagreement constantly. I started to worry for my family, I wasn’t sure how parabatai’s actually worked but I was almost sure that Jace and Alec’s might start to disappear if they kept at it.

I had followed Clary, Jace and Izzy to help free Meliorn from Lydia. We were surprised to say the least when Alec was the one leading Meliorn to the silent brothers. Clary, Jace and I snuck up behind Alec and Meliorn.

“Alec.” Clary yelled jogging ahead and gaining his attention. Jace stepped in between Alec and Meliorn and the entrance to the City of Bones. I stayed back out of the way. I noticed Alec’s eyes shift for a spilt second to me before turning his attention back to Jace and Clary like I wasn’t even there.

“You told me you were taking Clary back to the Institute. You lied to me.” He growled his hands closing into fists.

“I did what needed to be done.”  Jace fired back as Clary walked up to Meliorn and I took a couple of steps forward, in case I was needed to break up a parabatai fight.

“Alec, the Clave has gone too far. You have to see that. Please, just let Meliorn go.” I said calmly to him. His eyes flicked to me yet again before he looked down, not making eye contact.

“I have my orders.” His hand twitched slightly, getting ready for a fight. I saw Clary flare up.

“You and your damn orders. Who cares about orders?” Clary shouted at him. I squeezed my eyes shut, she has no idea about this world. I opened my eyes as Alec took a step closer to Clary.

“See?” he almost laughed while he gestured to Clary. “That’s how little you know about being a Shadowhunter. You couldn’t possibly understand–.”

“It’s you that doesn’t understand, Alec. Not this time.” Jace started as Alec started to move closer to the entrance. “I’m really sorry.” Jace’s head motions for me to go. I jump on Alec’s back, easier than I expected honestly, still not as easy as you might think.

“Clary, Meliorn, go, now!” Jace yells, Clary and Meliorn make a run for it as Alec flips me off his back and kneels gently on my chest. Jace knocks Alec off me and quickly jump up into a fighting stance.

“You always broke the rules, but never the law, not until she showed up.” Alec accused.

“You’ve had it out for Clary from the start. And now you’re getting married, Alec? We both know what this is about.” Jace yelled, I stood back and watched boys fight it out.

“Oh, do we? Okay. Why doesn’t the legend, Jace Wayland, tell us what’s it about?” Alec counters pushing Jace up against the cave wall.

“It’s about Mia! It’s about your feelings. It’s because you’re–.” Jace yells at him as my jaw goes slack looking at the two of them. Alec has pulled out his blade and now has Jace on the ground with it placed against his neck. “Do it. Do it! I don’t wanna be alive if we’re on different sides, Alec.” I watch as Alec gets off Jace.

“Come with us. We’ll fight Valentine the right way: together.” I told Alec stepping closer to him as Jace gets to his feet.

“If we do that, we’ll be considered traitors like Mom and Dad.” Alec said, I knew he was worried about what they had done as circle members, but I didn’t think it was this bad. This must be why he is getting married.

“I’m begging you, my parabatai, my brother. Please, Alec, come with us.” Jace pleaded with him as he and I both stepped forward again. Alec slid down the wall of the cave shaking his head.

“No.” with that one word I felt my heart break. I made sure Alec could see it as Jace and I walked away, he pulled me into his side as a tear rolled down my cheek.

We met back up with Meliorn and Clary outside of the Hotel Dumort. Izzy was locked in a passionate kiss with Meliorn before Jace clears his throat to break them up.

“I hate to break up this reunion, Izzy, but we have to go.” Jace reminded her of the rest of the mission; get Meliorn back to the Seelie realm.

“You’re in good hands.” Izzy says to Meliorn before turning to Clary, Jace and I. “I need to get back to the Institute, see what hell has broken loose. Try and talk some sense into Alec.” She gives me a sad look before she places a hand on my arm gently. “Take care of him.”

“We will.” Clary and I saw in unison.

“Kick Alec’s ass for me.” I told her. She and Meliorn share another kiss before she pulls away and walks her way to the institute.

Isabelle told me it was your idea to rally the Downworlders. That you spearheaded my rescue.” Meliorn said to Clary, “She also told me that you would have to go up against Alec, someone you love,” he turned his attention to me. I felt my cheeks blush before the memory of Alec saying ‘no’ to Jace and I resurfaced and all I did was nod my head towards Meliorn.

“Don’t give me too much credit. Isabelle made this happen. We just helped.” Clary stated as we started walking.

“She’s being modest. You’re a Shadowhunter now.” Jace said.

“I have been surprised by more than one Shadowhunter tonight. You risked everything to unite us.” Meliorn thanked Clary once again.

“Right after you tried to sell her out.” Jace reminded Meliorn. I looked away as we continued to walk towards a park I had never seen before.

“Not my finest moment. Which is why I’m offering you both a gift, for your sacrifice. If you’re ready, I can help you find your father.” Meliorn said addressing both Clary and I. I looked behind me to Jace, giving him a questioning look. I didn’t know who my father was.

 Clary and I stepped through the portal to the alternate dimension, where she and I were standing in a kitchen together. She turns around and grasps a butter knife holding it up in front of her.

“Where’s my mother?!” she shouts accusingly.

 “Whoa. Is this from one of your cosplay skits?” I heard Valentine ask as I turn around. “Uh, honey? Come in here. You gotta see this.” He turns to call into the living room. “No, seriously, you have to let me come with you, just once, okay? I wanna see what you do at these things, all right?” he turns to face the two of us again. Jocelyn enters the kitchen and takes in the scene in front of her, Clary slightly in front of me holding up a knife.

“Val, you’re not allowed to do cosplay. You’d stick out like a sore thumb.” Jocelyn says coming up to Valentine. At the sight of her mother Clary drops the knife and moves over to her.

 “Mom.” She pulls her in for a tight hug. I just stand there unsure of what to do.

 “Wow. Wow, if you miss us this much, you should really leave the dorm room more often.” Jocelyn jokes as Clary pulls away.

 “Right. Sorry.” Clary moves back over to me.

“Oh Amelia, honey, your mum said she wouldn’t be able to see you for breakfast this morning, so you’ve got us instead.” Jocelyn says to me before she moves to sit down at the kitchen table. I notice one of the sketches is signed by Jocelyn Morgenstern. I nudge Clary discreetly who then looks at the painting also. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket as Clary sits down hesitantly.

 “Clary…” Jocelyn holds up a cup of tea in a toast as I sit down opposite Clary at the table pulling out my phone. “In honour of your father’s Mad Hatter party tonight.” She takes a sip and I look at the message that lit up my screen.

From: Alec

Can’t wait to see you today, looking forward to that coffee :)

“Your mom made waffles for you. Come on, kiddo, you gotta eat something, right. So, Clarissa… when do I get to meet this new man in your life, hmm?” Valentine asks as he also sits down. It felt like I was intruding on family bonding time and I wasn’t even sure why I was here in the first place anyway. Valentine wasn’t my father.

 “Val.” Jocelyn chastised

 “What? I have to give my stamp of approval, right? For both of you by the way, you may not be blood related but we still think of you as our daughter Amelia.” Valentine said looking towards me. So that’s why I'm here. I'm basically family.

 “Oh, Clary, look at this commercial, it’s hilarious. It’s so bad, it’s good.” Jocelyn states and we all swivel on our chairs to look towards the tv sitting in the dining room. I see Magnus, Hodge and Luke on the tv in the commercial, apparently in this dimension Magnus is a psychic, I guess a warlock never changes his mark. I notice Clary starts to space out slightly and I drop my fork to bring her back. She gasps before standing up abruptly.

“I have to go.” She says as she gathers up her things.

“Uh, so do I, thank you for breakfast.” I say politely as I grab my phone and stand up too.

 “What?” Jocelyn asks Clary and I.

 “I thought you were spending the morning with us.” Valentine asks looking up at the two of us also.

“I, uh, have a last-minute assignment due that I haven’t even started yet, so I gotta go.” Clary states before rushing out of the door.

“I uh, have a date.” I say before following Clary out.

#alec lightwood imagines #Alec Lightwood #the mortal instruments #clary fairchild #jace herondale #isabelle lightwood #alec lightwood x reader #shadowhunters

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch43: What’s In A Name?

Intro: Katie progresses through her pregnancy and as her due date looms, they get down to the task of picking a name. Easier said than done...

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…seriously!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist 

October 2019

Katie was adamant that whoever said pregnancy was an enjoyable time was a lying fucker. Her morning sickness was horrendous, only it wasn’t just morning sickness. As Dr Kellet had warned, it was 24 hour fucking sickness. And to top it off, whilst she had already found out certain smells made her heave, both Steve’s aftershave and his shower gel were amongst two of them.

Steve took it upon himself, as with anything, to do as much research as he possibly could, reading articles galore on the internet. It was in one of these that he stumbled across a suggestion that lemon and ginger tea could help with queasiness. He had immediately headed to the store and come back with about 20 boxes off the stuff, much to Emmy’s amusement, and he tried not to hover or fuss too much over Katie, he really, really did. Katie knew he found this hard, as he was so excited and worried, both for her and the baby, not entirely certain how to navigate this new situation – and he wasn’t the only one. Every day Katie had to remember to herself that she couldn’t drink this, couldn’t eat that, shouldn’t do this. Pepper had told her it would be strange, that she would feel like her body wasn’t her own anymore. It was frustrating, and she found herself in a constant state of irritation, questioning to herself why either of them had thought getting pregnant would be a good idea. But then she would think back to how heartbroken and devastated the pair of them had been when they had been robbed of their chance to be parents almost 18 months prior and all that frustration vanished.

Fourteen weeks in and she was still felling like crap. She lay in bed, trying to go back to sleep but the horrible feeling spread into her throat and she clamped her hand over her mouth, pushing back the covers. Steve watched as she dashed into the en-suite, dropped to her knees and puked into the toilet, groaning. Steve climbed out of bed and followed her, crouching besides her as she heaved and heaved again, gently holding her hair back out of the way, rubbing her back. Eventually she let out a sigh and slumped to sit on the floor looking up at him as he smoothed her hair back behind her ears.

“I don’t think I like being pregnant” she mumbled and he chuckled slightly.

“Oh doll” he sighed, his hand still on her face “Can I get you anything?” “Some water, please.”

He dropped a kiss to her head and stood up, heading out of the bathroom. When Katie was sure she was done being sick for the time being she stood up, washed her face and cleaned her teeth, glancing at her reflection. Some pitiful woman with a bright red face looked back at her and she rolled her eyes. If this was glowing then fuck that.

Steve came back a minute or so later with a bottle of water which he held out. She took it off him with a thanks and then headed back into the bedroom. Draining half the bottle she set it down on the dresser and pulled out some fresh underwear, pulling off Steve’s T-shirt as she went. Steve watched her for a second, and then as she fastened her bra she turned to grab a top from the drawer and he felt his eyes widen as he noticed for the first time the slight swell in her stomach. Katie felt her eyes on him and she turned to look at him.

“Just boobs Steve.”she said, sniggering “They’re gonna get bigger.” “Sweetheart it’s not that, you’re…” he swallowed “You’re showing.”

Katie glanced down and was raised her eyebrows before she moved over to where the full length mirror. Up until then she’d simply been putting on a bit of weight, finally giving in the week before when she couldn’t fasten her jeans up anymore, but it was nothing of major note. But now, almost as if it had appeared overnight, there was a slight curve sticking out between her pelvis bones. Not huge, but still there.

“I err…” she looked at Steve, smiling softly “Yeah, guess I am.”

“Stay right there!“ he dived onto the bed and picked up his phone which was charging on his nightstand

“Steve!” she laughed as he took a snap, knowing full well that there would likely be a sketch in his book of the photo later in the day. “Did you get my face in that?”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter because one is ever going to see you like this besides me.” He grinned back as he tossed his phone onto the bed as he stood up, wrapping his arms around her from behind, his hands coming to rest on her small bump.

“I love you, more than you can ever know.” He nuzzled at her neck as she pressed her back to his bare chest. He rest his chin on her shoulder and looked at her in the mirror and then their moment was ruined as the feeling rose in Katie’s throat again and she shifted, pushing him out of the way before running and vomiting once more into the toilet. Steve followed her again, handing her the bottle of water. She took a large gulp and thankfully it seemed to quell the last lingering queasiness she was feeling for the time being and she let out a sigh as she looked at him.

“You did this.” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I know, and I’d like to say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”  he said with a sheepish grin.

“Hmmmm” she shook her head as he helped her to her feet. “You will be in five months or so when he or she is giving you as much grief as they’re giving me now.” “Well then I give you full permission to say I told you so.” He smiled. “Do you want any breakfast?” “God no.” she shook her head.

“You have to eat.” he frowned

“I know but not at half seven am when I’ve just puked my guts up” she said, placating him  “I’ll eat in a little while, I promise, once we’ve sorted Emmy out for school.” “I’ll hold you to that.” He said, patting her ass.

The other downside to being pregnant was the tiredness. And she felt exhausted all the time. So, Steve wasn’t surprised to find her flaked out on the bed, Lucky by her side, when he returned later that afternoon after collecting Emmy. They’d detoured to the store on their way home as they’d run out of peanut butter- Katie’s craving- as she would sit there eating the stuff out of the jar with a spoon. Whilst in Target, Emmy’s new favourite place on the planet, the girl had gone wandering off nearly giving Steve a heart attack until he found her in the clothes section, grinning at a maternity t-shirt. It was light yellow with a digger on the front, and the words “Under Construction” over the top. They’d both laughed until tears were rolling down their faces and had thrown it in the trolley. 

He’d left Katie asleep for as long as he could, until it was almost six pm and he knew she’d have trouble sleeping later on so as Emmy headed down to the lab to meet Bruce about some science project she was working, with the promise that as it was Friday they could get take-out, he headed into their bedroom and gently lay down next to her, giving her a soft kiss.

“Baby.” he gently bumped his nose against hers “I’m sorry but it’s almost six…” She cracked open one eye with a groan and glanced at Steve, his face was inches from hers as he lay on the pillow. Over the last four weeks or so, the unfortunate implication of her being tired constantly was that their sex life wasn’t exactly thriving and Katie hated that. It had always been such an important part to their relationship, how they lost themselves with one another but frankly, on most occasions recently, it was the thing furthest from her mind. The first time she’d pushed Steve away a fortnight ago his face had literally looked like she’d slapped him until she’d tearfully explained she was tired and cranky and her boobs hurt and, well, just and. He’d simply sighed and pulled her to him, and since then hadn’t moaned or pestered or made any move on her whatsoever. He understood, even if he did feel a little inadequate so to speak, but had been nothing but the perfect gentleman, doting husband and she couldn’t love him more for that.

But now there was a familiar feeling spreading between her legs that she was fucking happy to welcome back and she squirmed slightly as he tucked her hair behind her ears as he was totally oblivious as usual.

“I said we’d sit with Nat tonight and get take-out. That ok?” he looked at her.

“Sounds good, but, there’s something else I want first.”

“What?” he frowned, before he realised what she was insinuating as her hand drifted to the waistband of his jeans. “Ohhh.” he grinned as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto his lips. “Are we finally at the point of pregnancy where you’re supposed to be insatiable?” he asked as she undid the buckle of his belt.

She shrugged as he rolled her onto her back gently, his mouth dropping to her neck as she let out a soft groan, his hand creeping crept up her top before he paused.

“How are the boobs today?” he gave a smirk and she laughed as he pulled her top off.

“Tender, be gentle.” she said as his eyes greedily drank her in before his lips returned back to hers, the contact breaking only when she grabbed at his dark blue henley, suddenly desperate to feel his skin on hers. He let her pull it over his head, lips back together as soon as it was off and his hand gently moved downwards and into the top of her leggings, finding her spot. Her hips bucked violently at his touch and he looked at her, arching an eyebrow at how responsive she was being.

“Shit.” she said, “Fuck that’s sensitive.”

“Easy, baby.” he chuckled, his mouth soft on her neck as she groaned, enjoying the feeling of his hand working at her. When she couldn’t take it anymore she sat up slightly, undoing the button on his jeans and pushing them down his thighs before he shrugged himself free of them, and his boxers as Katie shucked off the bottom half of her clothing, before she pushed on his shoulders gently and he obliged, laying back so she could straddle him. As she took him in they both groaned slightly, his hips flexing upwards as she pushed down. Katie found a slow, steady rhythm that felt good, riding him softly as he met her movements thrust for thrust, hands on either side of her hips.

Now, Steve wasn’t exactly a prude in bed. Years of being with Katie had put paid to that but if he was honest his favourite position was still missionary. He liked the way it felt, the fact that he was the one doing the work and unravelling her underneath him, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy it any other way. He did. A lot. And as he looked up at her seeing her slightly distended belly, her swollen breasts protruding over the top of her bra and the other changes in her body thanks to the fact she was growing his baby, it all lit a fire in his belly every single fucking time he looked at her, well, frankly her on top now, watching her, it felt incredible.

“God you’re beautiful.” he muttered as he sat up, pressing his lips to hers as she groaned at the change of angle, grinding down against him harder “I love you so fucking much.” “I love you too.”she panted, her nose rubbing against his as he pushed up harder, making her cry out. “Fuck Katie.” he whimpered a little as she continued to roll her hips groaning loudly once more as the heat began to rise in her belly. He read the signals right, as he always did, pulling her down onto him harder, again and again.

“Stevie, I’m gonna…” and then she let out a soft cry, throwing her head back as she came undone, her hands tightening on his shoulders as he held her close, guiding her through her orgasm as he thrust upwards a few more times before following her right over the edge as she collapsed forward, her head lolling against his shoulder. It hadn’t been long, little over ten minutes if that, but it had felt amazing and as she sat still on his lap, his hands gently tracing up her back, she realised she’d never felt so cherished and loved in her life.  

**** December 2019

As Katie’s bump grew bigger, so did Steve’s protectiveness. The urge to keep his unborn child and his wife safe was coursing through his veins like molten lava. They’d already discussed moving from the Compound, and as such had put an offer in on a house in Brooklyn, which they were waiting to hear back from the realtor about. Emmy and Natasha thought the whole thing was hilarious, watching the normally composed and stoic soldier running around like a small child, and Katie did to a point, but as the weeks went on she started to get a little frustrated.

Natasha had reminded her she should be grateful he was so interested, as a lot of women didn’t have the help she did. And Katie knew that, she really did, but that didn’t stop her feeling slightly suffocated at the way he didn’t want her to go out alone, or drive, or clean, or basically do anything, and it all came to a head after twenty four weeks on the evening before their second sexing scan. They’d had one a few weeks before and Baby Rogers was not playing ball and lying in the most awkward position possible, so they’d been unable to tell what they were having. As such, they’d booked another to see if this time the little monster would be more co-operative. Steve was like a kid on Christmas eve, restless, eager to find out whether he was getting a son or a daughter, which didn’t help the situation as his incessant need to be doing something was driving Katie insane so she’d retreated to the bedroom which was where Steve found her now, pulling the sheets off the bed when Steve found her. He crossed his arms and frowned.

“What are you doing?“

“Rowing the Atlantic.” she looked at him, as he rolled her eyes at her sarcasm “What does it look like?”

“I can do that.” “Steve!” she groaned exasperatedly “You’re driving me insane! I’m pregnant not injured, I’m perfectly capable of changing the fucking sheets on our fucking bed!”

Steve recoiled instantly and stood looking at her, not sure what to do. He’d pushed her too far, he could see that. He swallowed as she looked up at him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“I just…” he stuttered, running his hands through his hair. “I want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

His face wore the expression of a puppy dog she’d just booted across the floor and she sighed, running her hand over her face and moved to give him a hug “I know and I shouldn’t have snapped, that was uncalled for.” “I’m going overboard aren’t I?” he asked, dropping a soft kiss to her head. “I know you mean well, I really do, but I’m capable of walking around and doing stuff on my own.” she leaned back to look at him. “And I adore the fact that you want to care for me I really do but-” she stopped dead as she felt something flutter inside her belly. She laid her hand on her bump and there it was again, like butterflies but stronger. She had never felt it before, Dr Kellet saying it wasn’t unusual for a first time pregnancy not to feel the baby quickening until nearer twenty-five weeks but she had definitely felt that.

“Oh my God.” She whispered, looking down and then back up at him.

“What is it?” he frowned, looking at her, concern across every line of his face.

“The baby, it’s moving.” she smiled at him.

Steve felt his eyes widen before he grinned and dropped to his knees, letting her position his eager hands on her body. For the longest moment he held his breath, waiting.

"Sweetheart, it was barely more than a flutter, I’ve never felt it before so I doubt you will be able to feel anything yet.” Katie looked down at him.

He looked crestfallen and began to move his hands away but she stopped him.

“Talk to them, he or she might be able to hear you now.”

Steve looked up at her “So soon?” “Yeah.” she nodded, encouragingly. “They say between twenty three and wenty seven weeks so give it a try.” Smiling he bent closer, Katie lacing the fingers of her hands through his hair gently as he addressed her stomach.

“Hey, kid” he spoke softly, and his hands shifted up to the side of her bump “How’s it going in there?”

Katie felt another faint stir, deep inside.

“They did it again.” she grinned, and he looked up at her, his eyes shining. “They know your voice, Daddy.”

Steve stayed on his knees, watching her for a second, the utter love he felt for this woman and the baby she was cooking scared him at times. It consumed him like nothing he had ever known before. He often wondered how he was going to fare as a father, never having known his own and Katie had softly confessed one night she was just as scared as she had never known her parents properly either. But Steve had known his mom, Katie had Tony to look up to and they’d both coped ok with Emmy for almost a year now so they’d figure it out together.

“You think it’s a boy or a girl?” he asked, looking up at Katie from where he was knelt, his hands sliding up the outside of her thighs.

She paused, considering. “Truthfully, I haven’t a clue. What about you?

Steve got up "No idea,” he admitted, “And I don’t particularly care” He ducked his head to give her a soft kiss.”

“I’m leaning towards a boy though.” Katie smiled.

“Yeah, why’s that then?” “Just a hunch.” she grinned, cheekily “Because it’s an awkward little shit just like its dad.” *****

A face swim into focus - streaked with static, but undeniably a face - a perfect little profile with a forehead and nose and chin. The little thing on the screen suddenly moved, turning its head and pulling one hand up beside its face.

Steve’s hand curled round Katie’s as the pair of them glanced at the screen, both of them immersed at their little world, right there, completely unaware of how much it was already loved. It had been four weeks since they had seen it last and it seemed so much more clear even as little as twenty eight days further on.  

“Everything is perfect!” Dr Kellet was talking. “And, I’m happy to say Baby is in a much more cooperative mood so I can tell you what it is this time.”

Steve looked at Katie, his eyes bright and they both nodded eagerly.

“Congratulations, Mom and Dad,” she announced, smiling. “It’s a boy”

“A boy.” Steve whispered, and Katie smiled as her raised her hand to press a kiss against her knuckles. She turned to look at him, his eyes were shining.

“This is real?” he suddenly demanded. “This - our baby - it is a he?”

Katie bit back the laugh at Steve’s astonished face. Dr Kellet smiled at Steve’s reaction and nodded reassuringly. “That’s your son.”

“You’re sure?” he asked for what felt like the thousandth time as they walked back to the car. “I mean, are those things accurate?”

Katie laughed, “Steve!”

“I know, I know.” he shook his head, still not quite able to believe it as he unlocked the car. Katie settled in the passenger seat as he climbed in next to her, and she glanced down at the image on the scan photo in her hands. “A son.” Steve smiled, looking out of the front window of the car. “We’re gonna have a boy.”

“Are you going to keep smiling like that all day?” she asked him.

“Probably.” Steve nodded, not an air of shame in his tone as he turned to face her. In all honestly he hadn’t cared what their baby was going to be, but as soon as they’d found out it was a boy he suddenly had visions of all the sorts of activities they could do together. Play fighting, baseball, football…not that he couldn’t do any of those with a girl but, well, it was his boy. A boy that would keep the Rogers name going once he was no longer there…

“Hey, now we can start thinking of names!” Katie grinned as he started the car up.

“Yeah.” He smiled, pulling out of the space “You had any ideas.” “Just one for a boy.”  Katie replied as he swung the car onto the main road.  She bit her lip, not sure how this was going to go down. “I thought about James.”

Steve’s shoulders tensed slightly. “After Bucky?” His voice was soft.

Katie nodded “That’s one person, yeah.”

Steve took a deep breath. If he was honest he’d had the same thought but he wasn’t completely sure about it. He didn’t want their kid named after Bucky because Katie simply thought it was what he wanted. He wanted it to be for the right reasons. Besides, it wasn’t like Bucky ever went by that name anyway. He shook his head and turned to look at Katie for a second.

“I’m not sure I could call a kid James. He went by Bucky after all.”

“I like it” Katie shrugged. “Plus, there are other nicknames for James, you know like Jim or Jamie.” "Jim?” he snorted, looking at her “He’s not an old man.” “No but his dad is.” she replied, playfully.

**** It was a week after Christmas when Steve finally got to feel his baby moving. They’d finally taken possession of the keys for the house in Brooklyn and after a long day of packing things into boxes, Katie had headed to the bedroom, jar of peanut butter and spoon in hand. Their son had been doing flips and kicking like a trooper all day, and she was exhausted.

Steve and Emmy stayed up to watch a film before calling it a night and after making sure Emmy was settled, Lucky assuming his place at the base of her bed, he climbed under the covers behind his wife, his hand straying to her bump as he hooked an arm round her, his thumb gently stroking to and fro when Katie rolled onto her back, looking up at him, biting her lip. Suddenly she wasn’t tired anymore and was craving the other thing she seemed to be constantly after which wasn’t peanut butter. And Steve was more than happy to comply.

“You are terrible.” he muttered with a grin, giving her a hard kiss and she squirmed as his hand touched her hip. She was extra sensitive to any touch he gave her at the moment, and he knew it. Grinning, he shuffled down slightly and she bit back a smile as he rest his forehead against her rounded abdomen.

“Hey son.” he cajoled. “Your mom says you’ve been pretty active all day today so how about a bit of something for your old man?”

And then Katie felt the jab, which was far stronger than anything she’d felt before, as their son really did give a kick or an elbow, whichever it was it had been harsh! Steve stilled as he thought he had felt something, but wasn’t sure. Quickly he looked up, holding the covers so that they were peaked around his head and he glanced up at Katie who nodded at him. He bowed his head once more against her stomach, hands resting either side as he felt their baby again. He took a shaky breath, simply staying there as Katie laced her fingers into his hair as their son continued to wriggle, Steve’s hand following every movement before they died down. It was incredible, and he couldn’t help but feel utterly in awe at the life growing inside his girl.

Fuck, she was incredible, being able to make that.

Eventually, after a moment or so of nothing Steve pressed a soft kiss to the side of her bump.

“I gotta help your mom out with something now so…” he looked up at Katie, grinning cheekily, before his head made its way further downwards and soon it was another feeling he was cherishing altogether.

"You know, betcha he’s gonna be super smart, like Tony or Banner smart” Steve said later that night as they lay together, her back pressed to his chest again. She couldn’t lie in her preferred position with her head on her chest anymore as her bump made it uncomfortable but if he was honest he preferred this way, he could simply rest his hand right over his son and stay there all night.

“Well he will be half Stark.” Katie mused as she lay her hand on top of Steve’s, her fingers skating over his wedding ring. “But I hope he looks just like you.”

Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, closing his eyes.

“You know, we really should try and make a bit more progress on the whole name front.” Katie sighed. "I still think we should call him James,”

Steve shook his head, eyes still closed.

“All right, then let’s name him after one of the other Commandos.” Katie said, turning her head to look at him.

Steve considered the matter for a second and then frowned. He cracked open an eye and gave his wife a dirty look as she started laughing. He had told her once that it had been a well-worn joke that all but three – him, Gabe, and Timothy - were named some variant of the name James.

“I assume you’re not suggesting we name him Gabriel,” he deadpanned, setting her off into another laugh.

“Emmy had a suggestion before.” Katie said, biting her lip. “Yeah?” “Horatio.” “What the...where the hell did she get that from?” Steve began as Katie threw her head back and laughed.

“I’ve no idea, but she couldn’t keep a straight face when she said it.” Katie said, before he pondered something “What about Joseph after your dad?”

“Joe...” Steve tried the name out before he grimaced and shook his head. “Joe DiMaggio played for the Yankees.“

“I’ll file that under the long list of no’s then.” Katie sighed, rolling her eyes.

******

February 2020

They moved into their house at the end of January. It wasn’t far from the place they had looked at a few years back, and was fairly similar. A large, L-shaped, red brick detached, in a quiet area with sprawling gardens, enough rooms to house an army and a pool area which sported bi-folding doors that completely retracted to reveal an enormous outside space complete with hot tub, dining area and a well-manicured garden.

It was perfect and even Tony failed to find anything to pick fault with. Being in the position they were in, they decided to get everything ready before they moved in fully. To be fair there wasn’t much to do bar a bit of decorating. They had someone come and do most of it, hiring the interior designer that had done the compound, but Steve was adamant he wanted to do the baby’s room himself, and Katie wasn’t going to deny him of that.

Steve barred her from the room, allowing no one in but Emmy who was helping him with the painting. She’d helped him pick the colours and all Katie was allowed to do was select the furniture much to her grumblings.

“She’s gonna love it.” Emmy said, looking around at the finished room. Steve dropped an arm round the girl’s shoulder.

“I hope so kiddo.” he said.

“Can we show her now?” Steve smiled, excitement flooding his system “Yeah, let’s do it.”

The two of them wandered out onto the landing and Steve called his wife. She came out of their room where she had been arranging throw cushions on their bed for the 1000th time that day, her nesting instinct kicking in.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“We wanna show you the baby’s room!” Emmy grinned. Katie’s face split into a grin and Steve leaned down to give her a soft kiss when she hissed as their son gave her an almighty boot in the ribs.

“Shit!” she hissed, rubbing at her side. “He kicked me then, really hard. That hurt!”

“Language!” Steve said grinning as he placed his hand on her stomach, gently feeling before he grinned and went to kiss her again, and she received another boot

“You know, I don’t think he likes you kissing me…” she pushed Steve away. “Listen, buddy.” he leaned down so his head was level with her bump. “We need to lay down some ground rules because in a month or so, you’re gonna be here demanding all your mom’s attention, but until then, she’s 100% mine, you got that?”

Emmy cackled out a laugh “Yeah you tell him Steve-o.” “Let’s hope he pays more attention to me than you do!” he shot the 12 year old a look and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, come on, I wanna show mom what we did.” The use of the word didn’t pass Katie by. Her eyes widened a little and she looked at Steve whose mouth had dropped open, but he hastily shut it, as Katie rearranged her face swiftly. They hadn’t even talked about what they would do if Emmy started calling them mom or dad, it hadn’t entered their minds. But it was too late, the young girl had spotted their faces and stood, frowning at them.

“What? Did I just say something that-” and then her eyes widened “Oh, I’m…sorry, it just, well, slipped out, I mean…”

Before she could say anything else Steve pulled her into a hug and shook his head “You know we love you like you’re our own.” “And if you feel the same then that’s fine by us, it’s more than fine.” Katie smiled.

Emmy sniffed a little and wiped away the tears that had sprung from her eyes and to save her any more embarrassment Steve nodded at the door to the room. “Do the honours then.” before he stood behind Katie gently placing his hands over her eyes. Emmy pushed the door open as Steve stepped forward, gently steering Katie into the room.

“Steve, I’m gonna fall.” she laughed, “My centre of gravity is way off on account of me being as big as a hippo.”

“I won’t let you fall, what you take me for?” he chuckled as the smell of fresh paint hit her nostrils.

“Ready?” Emmy asked, excitedly, looking at Steve who winked at him, his own exhilaration was radiating off him and Katie could feel it. She nodded and Steve moved his hands, so she could look round the room. It was a pale blue colour on all four walls, but on the third where the crib nestled it was slightly darker, and sported a quote painted in elegant darker blue letters that she recognised instantly as being from Peter Pan, one of Steve’s favourite childhood books: “Second star on the right and straight on ‘til morning.”  The same wall was also decorated with rows of silver and white stars. The gloss woodwork in the room was fresh and white, and the furniture was also assembled- a small wardrobe, dresser with drawers, crib, a changing unit and a rocking chair and she noticed Steve had stained the wood on the top of the changing unit a dark blue colour too, something she would never have thought to do. The entire room was an ode to the artist in him.

“Do you like it?” Steve asked after giving her enough time to take it all in. She turned to him and shook her head, and Steve felt his heart sink.

“No.” she whispered.

“You don’t?” Emmy asked, exchanging a look with Steve who’s face fell and Katie bit her lip and looked at him

“I love it.”

“Don’t do that!” he rolled his eyes as his hands locked behind her back whilst Emmy cackled.

“Honestly,” Katie said, looking round as she stood in his arms, “guys it’s amazing.”

“You’re amazing.” he said, glancing down at the bump which was now between them “Growing him in there.” “I’m also hungry.” she smiled, apologetically, and Steve laughed.

“Subs?” he asked.

His girls nodded and he looked at Emmy frowning “Chicken and bacon ranch…extra tomato” He knew she hated tomato but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease her.

She rolled her eyes, “You’re such a doofus dad…”

Dad.

Steve felt his voice catch, thick with emotion as he coughed to clear his throat “Oh, yeah, its extra cucumber, and…” he looked at Katie “Same?”

She nodded. “With cheese. And extra pickle.”

He kissed the side of Katie’s head before he left the room.

“I did the stars.” Emmy smiled, as her arm slid round Katie’s waist as they both looked round the room again “Dad did the stencil and showed me how to do it.”

Katie dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s fantastic.”

“I can’t believe he’s gonna be here in like seven weeks.” Emmy said, turning to look at Katie’s stomach when the pair of them jumped slightly as there was a rumble of thunder from outside. Katie glanced out of the window, frowning. It wasn’t the right time of year for storms but then again, since Thanos the entire weather front was still fucked up.

Downstairs, Steve was shrugging his jacket on, ready to head out to the sandwich shop. His head was still whirling from the fact Emmy had just called the pair of them mom and dad, but whirling in a good way. They’d come so far with the girl, it hadn’t been all plain sailing but she as a good kid and had settled well, even more so after they had assured her she was going nowhere when the baby was born. Smiling to himself, he pulled the heavy door open, the bottom catching slightly. He made a mental note to plane it down a little, and then he looked up colliding with something, the force of which bounced him back into the hall slightly. He looked up immediately, and felt his face drop into a look of shock as he saw the man standing in front of him.

“Thor.” he said, taking in his appearance. His hair was now shoulder length again, how it had been when they had first met him. His beard was back and slightly longer and Tony had been right, he was sporting the first signs of a beer belly. But he was clean and his eyes were bright, a great improvement on last time. “I err,” he looked nervously at Steve, “I came to see you and Little Stark…Natasha said you would be here so…” “Yeah, come in.” he said, stepping back. Thor stepped over the threshold and looked around appraisingly before he turned to Steve “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did…” Steve took the God’s hand and shook it “Look, we all say stuff we don’t mean in the heat of an argument, and it’s good of you to come.”

He shut the door and walked a little further into the hallway, gesturing for Thor to follow him.

“Honey!” he called up the stairs “We have a visitor.”

Katie appeared at the top of the stairs, Emmy in tow and she stopped as she looked down at the two men.

“Little Stark.” Thor looked up at her, the fingers of his left hand playing with the ones on his right nervously. “You’re not so little I see. Nice err, bump.”

“Hey Thunder God.” Katie said softly, making her way down the stairs. She glanced at Steve who was tactful enough to understand what she was suggesting, this was going to be a moment the two once close friends shared on their own.

“I’m just off out to fetch lunch.” Steve clapped Thor on the shoulder, “Can I get you anything?” “Tuna melt, extra pickle and chipotle sauce?” Katie asked, looking at Thor and he smiled, nodding.

“You got it. Emmy?” Steve jerked his head towards the door “Wanna come with me?” Emmy frowned “No.” “Let me rephrase that, you’re coming with me.”

She rolled her eyes “But-“ “No buts.” Steve opened the door and gestured out of it with his hand “Mush”

“Fine.” she grumbled “But I want a big slice of cake now too.” Steve shut the door behind them, Katie could hear the vague sounds of their arguing as they walked towards the car and Thor turned to her, puzzled.

“Oh, erm, she’s our foster daughter.” she supplied “You remember Emmy from the Christmas Party you came to? That’s her.”

Thor smiled “Your compassion never ceases to amaze me Little Stark.” he sighed.

“Come on.” she smiled, heading to the kitchen as he followed. She opened the fridge and he selected a beer before he looked at her as she opened it using the bottle opener set into the counter. He took a large drain from the bottle and glanced over at Katie who watched him carefully.

“So, I owe you an apology.” Thor said, awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that Katie thought was very Steve like, “I should not have talked to you the way I did last year, it was unforgivable…” “Yeah, well, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have punched you.” she offered.

“it was a good punch.” He mused, his hand touching his nose

“Almost broke my hand.” she smiled at him “So, shall we call it quits?” “I would like that.” Thor grinned and she stepped into his arms, allowing him to hug her

“You’re positively blooming.” he looked down as he released her. “May I?”

“Go ahead.” she grinned as Thor lightly placed the hand that wasn’t holding his bottle on her belly. Obligingly, her unborn son gave an almighty boot and Thor beamed up at her.

“Wow.” “Yeah, he’s a kicker.” “He?” Thor asked

“Yeah, it’s a boy.” Katie smiled “Wanna come see his nursery?” “I would very much like that, yes!”

And just like that, it was as if the last seven months hadn’t happened. In the end Katie gave Thor a complete tour and he looked round our house eagerly before Steve and Emmy returned with their food. The four of them ate in the kitchen, Thor patiently answering all of Emmy’s questions whilst filling Katie and Steve in on what was happening in New Asgard. Both of them were pleased to learn that he had been at the chair of the Elders now for 6 months, and they were currently underway with building a school. It was nice to see him so focussed again.

Eventually he announced it was time for him to go but before he did he grabbed his Axe from by the door. “Please, before I leave, I have a gift.” he nodded before he muttered something. There was a loud crack, which made them all jump and Thor grinned as he placed the item he was holding down on the floor. It was a beautiful pale yellow and white blanket, made from soft wool. Steve and Katie exchanged a glance as Katie took it, running her hands over the soft fabric.

“Thor its beautiful.” she whispered, looking at him.

“It has been made by the seamstresses in New Asgard.” He smiled “And I have worked every line of protection I know into the fabric. Your son will be safe while he sleeps.” Katie looked up at the God tears in her eyes before she hugged him once more “Thank you.”

*****

March 2020.

They were now into the last month of them being a family of three. And there was a huge elephant in the room, the fact that Baby Rogers still didn’t have a name.

Steve had been called away on business for a week again at the end of February, and had returned a few days ago, telling Rhodey he was done for the time being as the Doctors had said their baby was basically at full term size now and could arrive imminently, something that he knew was making his wife even more anxious that they hadn’t picked a name. But it was so damned hard, harder than anything he had thought about before. Every name each of them suggested the other had a reason not to use, and Katie kept coming back to the name James. Steve liked it too - he just thought it was unfair to Katie to name their child after his best friend.

But she wasn’t giving up so easily. She had one last card to play.

“You know, you were named after your Grandfather, weren’t you?” she asked one evening as she sat cross legged on the bed, eating from a jar of peanut butter.  “Let’s name him after mine, my mom’s dad. He was great.”

Steve aimed a doubtful eye at her as he walked out of the en-suite, "Please tell me his name wasn’t Horatio” he begged.

Katie laughed, biting her lip “No, it was Jim…”

Steve threw his hands up in exasperation, shaking his head as Katie continued to chuckle. He sighed, he was beat.

"You really like the name James?” he asked, dropping onto the bed and moved so he was led on his side behind her.

She nodded and suddenly felt a huge kick in her side.

“Ow!” she rubbed her palm across her large, rounded stomach, feeling her son’s strong kick.

Steve grinned, propped himself up on his right elbow and curled his left arm around his wife, hand resting on her bump, relishing the feel of their baby moving.

“I think he does too.” she smiled softly as she looked down at Steve. “Why are you so set against it?” “I’m not.” he sighed. “I just don’t want you naming him after Bucky just because of what he meant to me, and I’m still not sure I can call a baby James.”

“James is a nice, strong name for a little boy.” she shrugged, continuing before he could protest “Baby, let’s not forget Bucky saved my life, if it wasn’t for him we wouldn’t be having this conversation. And, if it makes you feel any better I want his middle name to be after someone who means the world to me.” she smiled, looking at him “Anthony.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly at the middle name before he smiled as their baby gave another huge kick.

“See?” Katie grinned as he looked down at her belly, his hand resting gently against his son who was now kicking with all his might and she knew from the look on his face that even before he was born their son had won Steve over.

“James Anthony Rogers.” Steve said, softly. It was a great way to honour both their bothers, but he couldn’t help but feel there was someone else deserving of it too. He looked up at Katie, cocking his head slightly to the right. “Could he have a third name?”

Katie frowned slightly. Neither Tony, her, or Steve for that matter, had a third name, but if Steve wanted to, then…

“What you thinking?” she asked, although she was pretty sure she knew the answer. He looked away from her for a moment and then cast his eyes to the framed photo on the wall in their bedroom, a photo taken at their wedding, the faces of all their friends and family beaming back at him. He looked back up at her and gave a little smile. “Samuel.”

Even though she had known it was coming, her eyes filled with tears- damned pregnancy hormones- as she looked at him, the memory of their lost friends springing into my mind. “James Anthony Samuel Rogers.” she whispered. “Jamie for short?”

The last part was a question more than anything but she knew he was on board when he beamed at her, tears of his own forming in his eyes as he leaned up to kiss her. “Perfect.”

Tags

@the-omni-princess​

@momobaby227​

@geekofmanythings16​

@angelofhell-666​

@thewackywriter​

@marvelfansworld​

@cobalt-gear​

@asgardlover75​

@jennmurawski13​

@jtargaryen18​

@saiyanprincessswanie​

@navispalace​

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #thor #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #fanfic #fancfiction

[whichstiel]

I made this art for the 2019 Dean/Cas Tropefest. (HUGE thanks to the mods, Jojo and Muse, for being amazing!) As soon as I read through the summaries, I knew I needed to try to grab the DRAGON STORY right away. I just...really love dragons, okay? This story is delightful and unexpected, with lovely world-building, rich side characters, and a beautiful romance between Dean and Cas. I really enjoyed reading it and working with zaphodsgirl! You can read Shadow & Storm by zaphodsgirl now! You’ll love it. <3

Here’s the summary:

One night, a mysterious visitor appears in young Prince Dean's bedroom, and he suddenly finds himself transported to an abandoned replica of his home in an unknown land. He learns quickly that the borders are finite, and none may leave without incurring the wrath of the guardian: a dragon the people call Storm.

Left with no choice, Dean adapts to life as the others have, tending to the animals and working the land to survive. As he grows up, the life he knew as a prince seems more and more distant, until a new person arrives that he remembers from his childhood. Shaken by this arrival, Dean’s desire to escape returns anew, and he discovers more than he wanted to know about the Shadowlands and its occupants -- especially about the mysterious guardian of the castle, Castiel.

Continue reading for some insight into the process and drafts behind the art.

Reading this story, I was struck by its lovely fairy tale vibe, which inspired me to make some kind of story-book art. I’ve always enjoyed pop-up books, so that seemed like a fun thing to try. My first step was to learn more about pop-ups. I turned to the internet for ideas, and found recommendations for: Pop-up design and paper mechanics, by Duncan Birmingham. This was a really useful book (I got it from the library - and you can too!) It gave me some basic structures and some general rules of thumb for how things fold and work when opened. I stuck with the simpler forms, given the short time period before posting.

Tools & supplies:

Cardstock paper

Watercolor paper (for the folding pages/backdrops and some stand-ups)

Watercolors, colored pencil, sharpie markers

Glue (I really like this scrapbooker’s glue pen for paperwork. Dries FAST and mostly doesn’t warp.)

Scissors, precision knife, ruler, protractor

Bone folder for pressing seams

Once I had some broad ideas of some of the rules of pop-up creation, I started to sketch out some quick ideas. I always like to start with the cover image, since that’s the main image people see when they’re browsing a story list. I did a few basic sketches on paper, but I decided the easiest way to develop these pop-up pieces would be to do what Birmingham called “paper sketching.” With paper sketching, you just...eyeball the pieces, attach it to a folded piece of paper, and cut away whatever paper you don’t want. It’s sort of like working with negative space in that way. Paper sketching was invaluable for helping me figure out things like: how tall should the mountains be? How high are the wings? What can fold together to lay flat? (Because I wanted this to be a functional book.) How long can I make that flame spout? (Not long, as it turned out.)

Here are some paper sketches I made of the cover image. A few of these were before I re-read the story and realized that the castle was built INTO the mountain. Oops. Building drafts helped me to realize that the concept was possible. Once I had some general structures under my belt, I could start to do the finer work of cutting out the final pieces. Draft work was typically done with sketchbook paper or cheap cardstock from Walgreens.

(Left: first draft; Right: Oh my god maybe this will actually work)

I wanted the cover to convey the full expanse of the lands surrounding the castle. I made my author draw me an actual map and diagram of all the agricultural lands. Thanks, zaphodsgirl! I chose black paper for the cover for REASONS you will discover when you read the story.

(Left: background watercolor progress with marker details; Right: taping in a quick test sketch to see if it will fit with the dragon and to test the angle)

Behind the scenes

For each design, I started by painting a watercolor backdrop, making note of the center where I’d need to fold the page. Watercolor paper was a pretty good choice because it’s thick and you can really crease the hell out of that middle joint - and the page stays strong. The cover is the most detailed. For the others, I went with more imprecise watercolor washes - mostly in the interest of time.

Finding a good backdrop is always a challenge when photographing art, and was a big issue for the cover since that dragon really gets lost if there’s too much in the background. I decided to go “Maria from Sound of Music” and pull down one of my curtains as a backdrop. That, plus desk lamps for light made a pretty good set.

This piece features Castiel fading into the dragon. I suffered from proportion control for this project but chose to forge on ahead, anyway. Sometimes the dragon is huge, sometimes it’s small. Oooooh well, it’s a dragon, anyway. :D The little Dean torso is intended to be a manually-opened inset, more to show his reaction than anything else. The dragon is 5 pieces - tail, head and forepaw, wings, and body. Castiel is a single piece; his fold is attached to the dragon and there’s a little paper accordion behind his head to keep him upright.

(Top left: I hate concept sketches; Top right: Cas coming together. I made him too tall! Oh well, I’m gonna roll with it)

Behind the scenes

This next piece was actually the second one I did, because it was the most complex and I wanted to get it finished so I wouldn’t fret over it. The red light is from a bicycle tail-light that I’m holding in the air with one hand while taking a photo with the other. I just really liked that little shadow claw on the ground!

This dragon was somewhat inspired by a Game of Thrones popup my author shared with me. My dragon isn’t as complex, but it still opens wide and closes flat, so I’m happy. It’s basically built as an upside down triangle, cut into a folded piece of paper. The fold is on the bottom. You can draw a line from the fold in its snout to a fold on its torso. The spines were cut out and glued on after the fact because I completely forgot to add them!!!

I was having some trouble with the wings attaching properly, so my test models had the dragon at various stages of height or angles from the ground. Too high and it would pop beyond the book pages. Too low and it might as well be sitting on the page completely. The dragon body has built-in tabs to which the wings are glued and the forest cutouts have this as well, for max strength. This is one of those cards where I went through enough drafts that I resorted to tape as a quick-hold option to figure out things like height and angle and how much dragon could fit in the folded pages. I ended up using an actual tool with (gasp) measurements to finally get the angle of the forest inserts right. Folding the test dragon into the card, I actually just sliced off the excess wing and tail that peeked out from the edges, then used that space when I was cutting out my final dragon.

For each of these, it’s best to get your pattern pieces as close as possible and then use that to cut your final pieces. The angles and length of everything needs to be fairly precise or what worked in your draft won’t fold well in the final version.

(Top left: So many draft pieces, so little time; Top right: Use math, kids!; Bottom: Dragon open and closed)

Behind the scenes

The last piece is modeled after a simple folding animal style. Its feet are glued symmetrically over the fold.

It’s essentially a folded piece of cardstock with an animal cut out of it. The head is attached separately, as are the wings and Amara. I had a star hole punch, which made it easy to add some stars to Amara’s gown as well as on the page. I’d wanted to do a big fold-out window arch here, but realized that it wouldn’t fit over the dragon or the Dean/Cas fold. Ah well. Please imagine it, instead.

(Top left: concept sketch; Top right: Paper sketching is a great reality check; Bottom: Amara astride Storm)

Behind the scenes

The final step was to turn this into some kind of book. At first, I planned to stitch the pages together. I’d never bound a book before, and I was cursing myself for putting down all those layers of pop-up inserts if I was going to have to stitch through each page. Then I looked at some pop-up books and realized that often just the edges of the pages are glued, leaving the middle to float as necessary. This was good, because it was a way easier option! (Also the dragon in the forest came out a little tight, so the float was very helpful there.)

I glued the page edges and, since they were a little curly from the watercolor and popup designs pulling at them, I weighted them with books to dry for a while.

I found an old book cover that would work (from a very outdated technology textbook). I sliced out the original pages, recovered the book with black paper, and glued in my new book pages on the front and back. It was a perfect fit!

I finished with time to spare, so I added a little watercolor and paper cut-out picture and frame to the front and back to add some flair. Please enjoy my terrible glue job. (I forgot to smooth the paper.)

I used a hair tie cut in half to hold the pages down for photographs (or display). I clipped two wedge-shaped bag clips to the underside of each tie to weigh down each side, and hold the book open at a slight angle.

This was a fun and challenging project to work on, and I’m so grateful to zaphodsgirl for all her effusive words and gifs of encouragement. You’re going to love this sweet story. Go read it now! Shadow & Storm on AO3.

(And if you feeling like tossing a comment my way, I’d love to hear from you here on Tumblr or on my art post on AO3.) 

#deancas tropefest #my art #dragons #popup book #papercutting art

[bountyofbeads]

I Felt Safe in America. Until El Paso. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/10/opinion/sunday/el-paso-shooting-immigrants.html

Below are two editorial pieces written by Hispanic AMERICANS and their thoughts on America after the El Paso shooting. We CANNOT LET HATE WIN. WE MUST STAND WITH OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS.

I Felt Safe in America. Until El Paso.

It is because of people like me and my daughter that a gunman did what he did.

By Fernanda Santos, Ms. Santos, a former national correspondent for The Times, teaches journalism at Arizona State University. | Published Aug. 10, 2019 | New York Times | Posted August 10, 2019 |

PHOENIX — A good friend who is moving to Chicago had a going-away party at a downtown brewery recently and I stopped by to say goodbye. He is an artist from Iraq who escaped to the United States in 2013 to save his life. In Iraq, Mahdi Army loyalists had chased, beaten and threatened him because he had dared to sketch nude pictures — practice for his entrance exam at Baghdad University’s College of Fine Arts. Here, he is free.

I wasn’t running from anyone when I settled in the United States 21 years ago, but I understand the idea of being free in America: For me, it has meant being free from the senseless violence of everyday life in Rio de Janeiro, from where I came. Since moving to the United States, I’ve married a white man, given birth to our daughter and moved to Arizona, where I’ve written about immigrants and the border and gotten to know both well.

I blend in seamlessly in Arizona, where about one in three residents is Latino. As a naturalized citizen, I felt safe here even when a campaign against illegal immigrants led by the infamous former sheriff, Joe Arpaio, targeted Latinos. One day after Donald Trump’s election, a man approached me while I spoke Spanish on the phone outside a coffee shop and screamed, “Speak English.” The experience rattled me, but still I felt safe. I did, however, start carrying my passport card in my wallet, just in case.

That sense of safety changed when a young white man opened fire in a Walmart in El Paso last Saturday, making targets out of brown-skinned people. I read the suspect’s manifesto  Sunday morning and, for the first time, I did not feel just like an immigrant. I felt like a target. I looked at my 10-year-old daughter eating the chocolate-chip pancakes I’d made and realized that she could be a target too. Citizenship, it turns out, is an illusory shield. In the eyes of that gunman, I am not American but an invader, an instigator. It is because of people like me that he did what he did.

Segregation was codified in this country in the days after Emancipation, when Southern states enacted laws that clamped down on African-Americans’ newly found freedom to vote, own property or attend public schools. But Jim Crow extended beyond the South: It took the Supreme Court to force Arizona to stop requiring voters to take English literacy tests, and that was years after the Voting Rights Act had already banned such tests.

But if legal segregation has largely fallen before court rulings, anti-minority and anti-immigrant attitudes have not. Last month, at a Republican event in Phoenix, State Senator Sylvia Allen, who is white, said, “We’re going to look like South American countries very quickly.” Ms. Allen, who later apologized, blamed it on the fact that white women are not reproducing fast enough and on the immigrants who are “flooding us and flooding us and flooding us and overwhelming us so we don’t have time to teach them the principles of our country.”

Last week, a fund-raising email by the Arizona Republican Party called the arrival of Central Americans at the border to assert their legal right for asylum “an invasion,” echoing language commonly employed by President Trump.

This is the language of white supremacy today: that we must stop immigration because Latinos will distort American culture and replace “real Americans.” But by “American culture” they really mean white culture, a definition that, to them, doesn’t apply to people like me. Or to black people, Muslims, Asian-Americans and many others, including mixed-race Americans like my daughter.

In his manifesto, the El Paso suspect employs this narrow definition to justify the unjustifiable. He says much more in that screed, most of it vile. Some, though, reminded me, in a good way, of the young undocumented immigrants I’ve met in Arizona. “Inaction is not a choice,” he wrote, reminding me that before elections, many young immigrants, including so-called Dreamers, knock on doors and share their stories, hoping to persuade their neighbors to do what they cannot, which is to vote. For those Dreamers, inaction is indeed not a choice.

There are Walmart stores all along the southern border. If you visit one of them on a weekend, you’ll see a parking lot full of cars with Mexican license plates. In Douglas, Ariz., a city whose mayor was born in the Dominican Republic, Mexicans who cross into the United States on foot to buy discounted clothing and housewares leave their Walmart shopping carts at the border crossing.

While I was at a Walmart in Phoenix shopping for school supplies the other day, I could see the kinds of people who make up this state. There were mothers speaking Spanish to children who spoke to one another in English, Muslim refugees from Africa in brightly colored hijabs, black families and white families too.

When school starts later this month in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, one school will be missing its principal, Elsa Mendoza Marquez. She was among the 22 people killed in the El Paso Walmart, just across the Rio Grande from Juarez. A dual Mexican-American citizen, she too was shopping and was gunned down while her husband waited for her outside, in the parking lot.

What the El Paso gunman failed to realize is that the immigrants he so hates are, like him, struggling to make sense of a changing country and claim their rightful place in it. He chose a rifle to claim his place. My Iraqi friend, who is off to pursue a master’s degree in art in Chicago, chose a brush.

The Dreamers I’ve met have chosen the power of civic engagement to fight their fight. And that, to me, makes them better citizens than plenty of the people who call themselves “real Americans” these days.

El Paso Was a Massacre Foretold

Those who are set on killing minorities are aided by the fact that they can easily obtain assault weapons in this country.

By Jorge Ramos, Mr. Ramos is a contributing Opinion writer. | Published Aug. 10, 2019 | New York Times | Posted August 10, 2019 |

Leer en español

EL PASO ­— “I don’t know why he took my boy’s life,” Dora Lizarde said. Her grandson Javier, 15, was the youngest victim of last weekend’s massacre, killed by a bullet to the head. “Fifteen years old; he still had so much time to live,” Ms. Lizarde told me in an interview this week. “I don’t know why he took him away, I don’t understand. He is young, too.”

Patrick Crusius is young, too.

Police have charged Mr. Crusius, 21, in the mass shooting that killed 22 people at a crowded Walmart here on Aug. 3. Nineteen of the victims had Spanish surnames, making this the worst attack on Latinos in modern American history. The Mexican government has labeled the killings a terrorist act, given that eight Mexican citizens were among the dead. And, yes, it is a hate crime.

The massacre of Latinos in El Paso is the latest and most brutal reaction by a young, white American against a future that might be dominated by minorities. The fact that this attack happened is unsurprising: What else can we expect when racism and hatred of others is promoted from the top down in a country where there are more guns than people?

Authorities have said that Mr. Crusius posted a 2,300-word manifesto online minutes before the attack. In it, he said the attack was in response to a “Hispanic invasion of Texas.” “It makes no sense to keep letting millions of illegal or legal immigrants flood into the United States,” Mr. Crusius supposedly wrote, “and to keep the tens of millions that are already here.” Those words startled me — not only because they were so hateful, but because they could seamlessly fit into speeches given by President Trump, by some members of his cabinet and by many right-wing politicians.

While Mr. Trump insists that he does not have “a racist bone” in his body, his history of making racist remarks says otherwise. After years of suggesting that President Barack Obama had not been born in the United States, Mr. Trump launched his presidential campaign in 2015 by likening Mexican immigrants to criminals and rapists. He recently said that four congresswomen of color should “go back” to the countries from which they came. The list goes on. When the most powerful man in the world uses such toxic rhetoric, we should not be surprised when others mimic him.

Beto O’Rourke, the former congressman from El Paso and a Democratic presidential candidate, recently told me that he is convinced Mr. Trump influenced the attack. Mr. O’Rourke — who along with Senator Elizabeth Warren, another Democratic candidate for the presidency, has said in recent days that Mr. Trump is a “white supremacist” — responded to a tweet from the president by writing: “22 people in my hometown are dead after an act of terror inspired by your racism.” Other leaders and politicians, including Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, have also lost their patience with Mr. Trump. “I don’t want to hear the question ‘Is this president racist?’ anymore. He is,” Ms. Ocasio-Cortez said recently.

The president’s xenophobia, and that of many of his supporters and enablers, is rooted in a dread that the day is soon coming when they will be a minority in their country. While non-Hispanic whites remain a majority of the population in the United States, in less than 30 years that may no longer be the case, according to projections. This sort of demographic revolution is putting Americans’ tolerance to the test. Most of us welcome an increasingly diverse country, but many, like Mr. Trump, resist the country’s multiethnic, multicultural future. Some react by walking into a store and murdering innocent people.

The most racist Americans who are set on killing minorities are aided by the fact that they can easily obtain assault weapons in this country. I’ve lost count of all the massacres I’ve covered as a journalist. After each shooting — Columbine, Sandy Hook, Las Vegas, Parkland — I thought we might have reached the limit of Americans’ tolerance for such horror. But it wasn’t so. I fear that the killings in El Paso won’t change anything, and that I soon will be back on another flight headed to cover the next massacre. And then another. And another after that.

I have lost hope that the United States will ever pass laws that limit access to firearms. Like many parents around the country, I’ve had difficult conversations with my children in case they find themselves in a situation where someone is shooting at them. “Try to escape, hide or fight,” I tell them. “But don’t stay still. Gunmen have a lot of bullets, but not patience.”

Still, even if we could somehow solve our gun problem in America, our racism problem would be far more difficult to eradicate. Hate-group activity is on the rise, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center. And anti-immigrant rhetoric has already appeared in slogans shouted during the 2020 presidential campaign.

I crossed the border from El Paso to Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, one morning this week. For many years, Juárez was considered one of the most dangerous cities in Mexico because of the presence of drug cartels. Yet on this visit some people I spoke with told me that they didn’t dare cross into El Paso with their families. When I asked why, some said that they feared being hunted for being Mexican, and all said that racism was a factor.

Nobody should live in fear because they are Mexican nationals in the United States or members of the Latino community. But that’s where we are now in this United States of Trump. The abundance of weapons of war on the streets and Mr. Trump’s unending racist rhetoric are indisputably connected to the massacre in El Paso. What happened in this city was a massacre foretold. Words matter. When they are filled with hate, they cause great damage.

Mr. Ramos is an anchor for the Univision network and the author of “Stranger: The Challenge of a Latino Immigrant in the Trump Era.”

#u.s. news #politics #trump administration #donald trump #politics and government #president donald trump #white house #republican politics #trump #us: news #must reads #international news #national security #immigration #world news #racism #criminal-justice #u.s. department of justice #impeachthemf #civil-rights #united states department of justice #domestic terrorism #the nra is a terrorist organization #terrorism #el paso shooting #el paso strong #hate crimes #hate speech #hate groups #gun violence

[gumnut-logic]

The Bellini Incident (Part Seven)

Title: The Bellini Incident

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Author: Gumnut

28 Apr 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Kayo was going to kill him.

Word count: 3657

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo, Virgil!whump with a side order of Scott!whump.

Timeline: Standalone, not Rain Series.

Author’s note: For @soniabigcheese who threw the prompt at me, and @i-am-chidorixblossom who suggested some Virgil whump. Scott got a bit whumped, too, I’m branching out as a writer, blame @scribbles97.(And thanks to her for the read throughs :D )

The prompt: The character who doesn’t realize they’ve been hurt trying to see if everyone else is okay only to slowly realize that everyone is looking at them with mounting horror. Then they touch their side to find it’s wet and oh no…

I have been dropping hints about one of the characters in this story for the last couple of chapters. For those of you who have read Gentle Rain you might have recognised her. For those of you who haven’t I hope I’m sketching her character out well. If not, Gentle Rain might be worth the read as in this chapter she comes to the fore. It should also be noted that while I’m using the character from Gentle Rain, she is an alternate timeline version as this is not a Gentle or Warm Rain fic. So, things are very different, though I hope the core of her character is the same. This is me actioning an idea proposed by @lightning1999 and I hope she enjoys it along with everyone else.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

John stared at his tablet. His heart was breaking ribs. “Kayo?” His voice was little more than a whisper, but regardless, he knew he wasn’t going to get an answer.

Her tracker was moving out into the alley. “Eos, get down there. Don’t let her out of your sight.” It was supposed to be simple. Just a contact. Just a hint of connection to the Network. How had they known?

John had holed up in the room next door to Virgil and Scott’s. Besides him it was empty.

So empty.

His breathing matched his heart rate.

“Gordon.”

His younger brother was next door keeping an eye on both the eldest and the youngest. Alan had taken yesterday’s events very hard and fallen asleep in the chair beside Virgil, his hand still holding onto his sleeping older brother as if he was scared the man would disappear on him.

Kayo’s tracker was moving across the map. Eos was following.

“Gordon.”

The door opened and John jumped, but it was only the aquanaut. “What’s up, bro? Scott and Virg are still asleep. Alan’s snoring.” A grin. “I have video.”

“Gordon. They’ve got Kayo.”

His brother immediately sobered. “What? Who?” He hurried over to peer at the map.

“Unknown.”

“What do you mean ‘unknown’? What happened?”

“She went to meet with one of her contacts. They didn’t show, but someone else did. Aiden, Jo and Chu are not answering. Kayo...they took her. Eos is on it.”

“Took her?” It was as if his brother couldn’t compute the concept. “How the hell?”

John swallowed. “Apparently they knew she was coming.” The security breach leading to that issue gaped open in his mind.

“We need to get her back. I’ll wake Scott.”

John grabbed his arm and pinned those brown eyes with his own. “Don’t wake Virgil.”

Gordon’s eyes widened just slightly as the effect of Kayo’s capture on his second oldest brother sunk in. “He’s going to want to know where she is.”

“He can’t know. Not yet.”

Thinned lips. “I’ll grab Scott.”

John let him go and he ran from the room.

His eyes returned to the blip on the map that was his little sister.

Shit.

-o-o-o-

Doctor Em Harris was tired.

It had been a long day, the third in a row, and this was the first that she had seen of her apartment in over sixty-five hours. Her aching feet dragged her through the door.

The cause of this extended work period was the Tracy brothers. International Rescue, myth on a stick. It was pure chance she had been on ER duty when Thunderbird Two landed on the hospital’s front lawn, and the events that followed swept her up in their momentum. A directive from the hospital director, the GDF, and the leader of International Rescue...and her two sole medical cases were now Scott and Virgil Tracy.

Men and myths blurred.

Apparently, myths bled as red as men. She sighed. The brothers were close knit, that much she could tell. She hardly knew them, but part of her warmed to their banter. Obviously, they all cared deeply for each other. The youngest, Alan, reminded her of her little brother, Jeth. Both a sweet and heart-breaking thought. Before his paralysis, before the tsunami that had taken so much.

The sister had gone absolutely ballistic after the assassination attempt. Em had found her pacing the corridor outside Virgil’s room, fury in her step. A moment of hesitation, a bitten lip and Em had interrupted that pace. “Ms Kyrano, Virgil will heal. There is no permanent damage.”

Green eyes had snapped to her, mistrust at the fore. This was a woman who had been hurt in the past. Em could understand that, but underneath it all was guilt.

Guilt could be a killer.

She said nothing.

Em drew in a breath. “If there is anything I can do for you, just ask. Even if it is just an ear for listening. It can help.”

Those eyes simply stared her down. Still she said nothing and Em had the distinct feeling she was under an x-ray machine, her innards being examined for threat.

“Okay?”

Smooth voice. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

But Ms Kyrano had disappeared shortly after and she hadn’t seen her since.

Now Em was home to grab some fresh clothing and was due back at the hospital in fifteen minutes.

She closed the front door behind her, dropped her keys on the table in the hallway and strode through to her bedroom.

There was a man sitting on her bed.

She froze for just a moment, enough to see him smile in the dim light, before spinning and making a dash for the front door.

She almost made it.

An arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her from her feet.

She screamed and kicked.

“Woo hoo, you are a feisty-“

Her elbow hit facial bone. A strangled gurgle cut off the man’s snark and his hold loosened. Slamming a heel into his shin, she shoved her other elbow into his gut. A gasp and she was free and moving.

“You bitch!”

The door handle was in her hand when cold metal rammed into her neck.

She froze, a whimper on her breath.

“You’ll pay for that. Trust me, you will. Maybe not now, but definitely later.” He grabbed her hair and dragged her back from the door. “Now, Emaline, we need to have a little chat about Virgil Tracy and your little brother. One needs to die, which would you prefer?”

-o-o-o-

Scott Tracy had the ability to go from deep sleep to fully awake in a split second. It was a skill that was both useful and annoying.

This time it was useful.

Gordon’s touch had him peering up at worried red-brown eyes, his strawberry-blond brother gesturing silently, a finger on his lips. A glance around the room explained why. Alan was curled up asleep in the chair beside Virgil’s bed, his older brother’s fingers still in his hand. Virgil was on his side facing both of them, a frown furrowing his brow despite his quiet breathing.

The room was dim and quiet.

Gordon’s gestures were urgent.

Sitting up gingerly, Scott tested his equilibrium, hoping the vertigo that had plagued him since the incident was waning. A flicker of lights at the edge of his vision, but other than that he seemed fairly stable. The headache, he could ignore.

Gordon grabbed his arm as his feet softly touched the floor, shoved his dressing gown into his arms and urged him from the room.

The IR security officers outside the door raked him with their eyes. Scott tried to smile a little, but Gordon dragged him to the next room along.

“What the hell, Gordon?”

“We have a situation.”

Scott’s spine automatically straightened at John’s voice, illness forgotten. “Report.”

John was short, sharp and to the point.

Scott did not react, but that was only due to experience. “Do you have her status?”

“She’s alive. Eos has been able to hack one of the phones in the vehicle and turn on the camera.” A video of their sister limp on a backseat, from an awkward angle, but clear enough to see her breathing. It shook with the movement of the car, obviously being held offhandedly by someone sharing the seat with her. “Other than that, I’ve got her subcutaneous tracker and her collar comms.”

“Can you turn them on from here? Receive only?”

John muttered something. A moment later and the sounds of soft breathing and a vehicle in motion.

“Where is Thunderbird Shadow?”

“Airport. She was undercover, but wanted to have her ‘bird available if she needed it.”

“I need it.”

John turned to stare at him. “What?”

“I’m going to go and get her. Any idea where they are headed?”

“Out of the city, apparently, they’re on the freeway heading towards Tokyo.” He stared up at his brother. “Scott, you’ve got a severe concussion. You shouldn’t be flying.”

“That’s why Gordon is coming with me.” Blue eyes darted towards the aquanaut.

Something flickered in Gordon’s eyes and a grim smile curved his lips. “Hell, yeah.”

John stared up at them. “What about Colonel Casey?”

Scott’s lips thinned. “What about her? We’re wasting time. Call TBS and land her on the roof. I need my uniform.”

“What if they’re armed?! Scott-“

“Get the information. I will do what is necessary.”

“Scott-“

“Do you want to be the one to tell Virgil his ‘Kay’ has been captured?”

John opened his mouth, but shut it again. “You could be injured or killed!”

“Sounds like the average rescue to me.”

“The average rescue isn’t armed and criminal. Call in the GDF.”

“I don’t trust the GDF. Certainly not with a Tracy.” Scott straightened. “Keep it from Virgil as long as you can.”

John’s glare could have stripped paint. “What do I tell him?”

“Think of something, just keep him in that bed.”

“What, like I should be doing for you?”

Scott returned the glare. “Get me the information I need.” He turned away from his middle brother, sorry to be so harsh, but needing to move.

His head reminded him that it wasn’t happy about anything.

Two minutes later, Commander Scott Tracy left the room wearing a three-day old dirty uniform ignoring the dried flakes of his brother’s blood that he had been unable to brush off.

This had gone far enough.

-o-o-o-

Her fingers shook as she shut her locker, the bruise on the back of her hand where the bastard had wrenched her arm behind her back was turning black. She flexed her fingers desperate to dull the ache but only made it worse.

She was asked to kill Virgil Tracy or they would kill her little brother. The whole concept just broke everything dear to her.

Jeth, paralysed from the waist down and brain injured in the tsunami that killed her parents, was currently in medical care across the other side of the city. He was the entire reason she was in Japan at all. Nagoya held the most eminent specialist in the field of neuroscience. There was hope her brother could recover some of his faculties with continued treatment. It cost, but she didn’t care. She would do anything to see him better. To see him smile.

Anything.

She leant her forehead against the cold metal of the locker and tried not to cry.

Virgil Tracy did nothing but try to save people. Sure, International Rescue had been involved in the tsunami, but it hadn’t been their fault.

Not their fault.

Any more than this was.

A tear tracked down her cheek.

She had the ability to kill. She had spent her life fighting death, it wouldn’t be hard to let it win.

Another tear fell to the floor.

What was she going to do?

An image of the brothers bantering waltzed through her head. How could she possibly be considering this? How could she?

The last few years had been hard. She had lost her parents and her brother had needed so much care. So much.

She had been burning the candle at both ends for so long, she had forgotten what having a life was like. The last three days had been strenuous, but the ability to focus on just two patients and give them all the care they needed had been a pleasant contrast to the usual chaos of patient after patient that general ER and surgery tended to be.

Three days and she was caring for the Tracy brothers more than she should be.

And Alan was so much like Jeth.

Mr Scott Tracy. Eyes the colour of the ocean she so loved and hadn’t seen for so long. He seemed kindly. He was the leader. What if she told him? Could he help? Or would it doom her brother to death?

She wanted to scream.

Straightening, she squared her shoulders. She had twenty-four hours. A monitored twenty-four hours. He said they were watching.

Watching.

With a gun pointed at her brother’s head.

She would kill herself if it would solve anything.

It wouldn’t.

She wished it would.

With her heart in shreds she stepped into the elevator that would take her to the ward protecting her patients.

She didn’t expect one of them to be waiting for the lift when it arrived.

For a moment she was floored. Scott Tracy in uniform was a sight to behold. The determination on his face was a physical thing strong enough to plough through anything in his way. But more than a glance and she could see how pale he was, how stiff he was holding himself, the dirt on the uniform.

And she realised he was wearing the same clothes he had arrived in. Her memory of him clinging to Virgil in the ship’s medical bay, drenched in blood, was one etched into her brain and destined to join her for life.

“Where are you going?”

He blinked as if he hadn’t expected the question. “I’m needed.”

“You have a concussion. You need to be in bed.”

“Life isn’t perfect.”

God, that was the truth. “You can’t leave.”

Those eyes pinned her where she stood. “I do what I have to do.” His brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

And she realised that her face probably wasn’t at its best. “I’m fine.” She forced her lips into a firm line desperate to hide her tremble.

His frown deepened. “Have you been crying?”

He was observant.

“I received some bad news.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He shifted his helmet from one hand to the other. “Look after yourself.”

An attempted small smile. “I will.” She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “You should, too.”

Scott bit his lip and looked down before catching her gaze again. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

Her mouth tightened, knowing she had no hope of stopping him. “Then come back safe.”

“I’m planning on it.” A breath. “Please excuse me.” He stepped around her and into the lift. A small smile as he turned back to look at her as the doors closed.

And he was gone.

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke groggy and hot.

Hot was not a good thing. That was the first fact to register. The second was a parched throat.

He had obviously been lying in the same position for some time as everything was aching and stiff. Of course, his left side was a mass of nasty nerve signals he really didn’t want to acknowledge, but even his right arm creaked as he tried to move to motivate his circulation.

He didn’t expect the hand that was entangled with his.

“Alan?”

His brother shifted, startled out of sleep. “Wha-? Oh god.” Just watching him, Virgil could feel his bones creaking. He knew from experience just how painful sleeping in a hospital chair could be. Alan folded himself, his elbows landing on his knees, his head in his hands. “Somebody put me out of my misery.”

“Ask Gordon, I’m sure he will oblige.”

“What the hell is wrong with your voice?”

“Water, Alan?”

“Oh.”

His little brother staggered to his feet, grabbed the jug and cup from the bed table, poured the liquid and handed it to Virgil.

Cool, clear and wonderful. In hospital, it was definitely the little things. Breathed out. “Thank you.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Hot.”

Alan reached out and touched his forehead. “Shit, Virg, you’ve got a fever. I’ll go grab the doc.”

“Ala-“ But he was already gone.

Virgil sighed back into the bed.

One positive was the fog from the medication seemed to have cleared somewhat. Pain? Some, but manageable for the moment.

Alan returned with the doctor from yesterday. Virgil frowned. She was still all dark hair and pale skin, but she was flushed and she looked worried.

“Alan says you are burning up.” She pulled out a thermometer and poked him in the ear before he could answer. “Thirty-eight point five. I would definitely call that a fever, Mr Tracy. Let me see your wounds.”

What followed was gentle, but necessarily painful. The strongest suspect for infection was the scalpel wound in his side. It was no real surprise considering the stress he had put it through. The doctor finished off with some general obs and settled him back against the pillows.

“An extra course of antibiotics should nip that in the bud. Give me a minute and I’ll go grab some supplies.” She turned and left.

Alan looked lost.

“Go and get yourself something to eat, Alan.”

“It’s the middle of the night!”

“If you’ve been sitting there since I was last awake, you missed at least one meal. Go eat.”

“You sure? I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Virgil sighed. “I’m fine. There are two guards outside. The doctor will be here in a moment. If you are concerned, go find Scott and tell him to get his ass back to bed. Where the hell is he anyway? In fact, your mission is to go and find the escapee and escort him back here. Grab some food while you’re at it.”

“Yes, sir!” The mock salute was just that touch ridiculous and his brother smiled. “Won’t be long.”

“Don’t hurry, I’ll be fine.”

Alan held up two hands in defence. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” He waltzed pass the doctor as she walked back in, hands full of an IV bag and intravenous needles.

Great.

She was efficient and professional and within a matter of minutes, there were some cold yet hot fluids dripping into his blood stream. He took another sip of his water and lay back, doing his best to try and relax.

He was quite surprised when the doctor didn’t leave immediately.

She packed up her supplies neatly and placed them on Scott’s bed table. Turning she straightened and her pale eyes caught his. Her face was flushed again and her expression twisted him inside. There was pain there, and regret.

“Doctor?”

“You’re a good man, aren’t you?”

He blinked. Huh? “As good as any? I’m far from perfect, but I do try to do the right thing?” A slight frown. “Why?”

“I...” She bit her lip and, to his consternation, tears appeared in her eyes. “I just...need you to be worth it.”

“Worth what?”

Her face crumpled and she turned away, her face in her hands. Muffled. “I’m sorry.”

“Doctor Harris, what is wrong?” He pushed the button to raise the back of the bed as far up as it would go and with a gasp and a grimace, pushed his legs around and off the edge of the bed.

He was so damned hot.

“What are you doing? Get back into bed!”

He glared up at her. “Not until you tell me what is wrong.”

She took a step back. “I...”

“Emaline, is it?”

Her voice was small. “Just Em.”

“Just Em. Something has upset you. Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh god, why?” And she was crying, her whole body shaking.

He couldn’t reach her without standing up and to be honest, he didn’t feel that was advisable in his condition unless he wanted to get intimate with the floor. His side was yelling at him enough already. “Em.”

She looked up, her face swollen, her eyes desperate. A moment and she was in front of him, tears ignored, doctor to the fore. “Mr Tracy, lie back down.” Her hand touched his right shoulder urging him to comply.

“Not until you tell me why you are upset. Apparently, it involves me somehow. What is wrong?”

Expressions of worry, fear, guilt and sadness flickered across her face before it settled into one of resignation. She looked down at her hands and he reached out, clasping her arm gently.

“A problem shared is a problem halved.”

A pain-filled laugh sputtered forth and the tears welled again. “Mr Tracy, you have no idea.”

“It’s Virgil. And if you tell me, then I will.”

She stared at him. “You are worth it, aren’t you.” Another tear trickled down her cheek and she swallowed. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

“Em?”

She straightened just slightly, looking past him as if to gain strength from the air around her. “Do you remember the tsunamis in Indonesia nearly four years ago?”

Remember? How could he forget? The Hood had set off a series of artificial seaquakes all along the Pacific Rim causing several tsunamis that had taken thousands of lives.

All in the hope of gaining access to the Thunderbirds.

“I can see in your expression that you do, and I know why. The Hood wanted your equipment, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Virgil’s voice was little more than a rasp.

“And you couldn’t give it to him, could you.”

He breathed it out. “No.”

“My parents died in the southern tsunami, they were in a hotel lobby, ground floor. The building collapsed on them. My brother was higher up. Somehow, he managed to survive, but he was severely injured. It is likely he will never walk again.” A drawn in breath that strangled to a sob. “But he also sustained a brain injury. I’m...We’re in Nagoya for treatment. There is hope...” And she was crying again.

“I’m sorry, Em, for your loss.” It hurt. It always would. The mantra of ‘you can’t save them all’ marched around his head. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh god!” She turned away. “Why the hell? How can they possibly want you dead?”

He froze, his heart missing a beat. “Em?”

“They want me to kill you, Virgil.”

“What?!” He shuffled just a little bit further back on the bed. The corner of his eye caught the door, his hand reached for his comms.

The IV pulled at his skin.

She spun around. “They are going to kill my brother. If I don’t kill you, my little Jeth is going to die.”

-o-o-o-

End Part Seven.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #em harris #virgil/kayo #kayo kyrano #gordon tracy #the bellini incident

[douxreviews]

Us (2019) Review

Gabe: What are you people? Red: We… are Americans!

This was a weird movie. Weird, but a lot of fun.

Jordan Peele had quite a task ahead of him with succeeding his directorial debut, the Oscar-winning horror film Get Out. That was a superbly tight and effective movie with a very novel premise and a unique commentary on race.

Us does have something of a commentary, albeit one that’s a bit more abstract than Get Out’s, but plays more like a prototypical scary movie. The first 45 minutes to an hour feels very much in the vain of movies standard to the home invasion sub-genre. Think Funny Games without the pretentious scolding, or The Strangers without the utter despair. Later on, though, I started getting a twisted Invasion of the Body Snatchers vibe.

However, Us has a far more interesting gimmick than most home invasion thrillers.

It centers around the Wilsons, a normal African-American family whose vacation to Santa Cruz takes an abrupt turn when they find themselves confronted by another African-American family who happen to look exactly like them. Only they’re not normal, and they certainly aren’t friendly; although, they too are on a vacation of sorts. The film’s premise of doppelgängers really intrigued me from the first trailer, and I was glad to see that it took that idea and ran with it.

As the Wilsons do battle with their dark opposites, we begin to discover along with them that this terror goes way beyond their family. And that there might be more meaning to the film’s title than it appears.

Us may not be as novel or unique as Get Out, but it contains a lot of what gripped me about that movie. The primary thing that stands out is Jordan Peele’s vivd, understanding of what’s creepy and unsettling; this comes through even in Key & Peele’s sketch comedy. He knows how to get under the skin and create an atmosphere of nightmarish dread, which is conveyed through a brilliant mix of dialogue, visual imagery, editing, music and sound design.

I also appreciate Peele’s ability to intertwine drama and terror with a fair bit of dark comedy. It’s a bit like Scream or The Cabin in the Woods in the way horror and humor go hand in hand in this film, although it’s not nearly as meta as either of those.

Probably the one element that will be unanimously praised about this movie is the acting. The film does a good job of establishing each of the central family’s quirks and making us invest in them in a way few horror movies do, then turning it on a dime by having them play the dual roles of their bone-chilling doubles.

Lupita Nyong’o is particularly mesermizing. Both of them. As the main protagonist, Adelaide, she manages to capture that same alert, fear-stricken vulnerability that was so striking about Daniel Kaluuya’s acting in Get Out, while infusing it with this raw ferocity. As the antagonist, Red, her use of a low, rasping voice and eerily precise movements creates this uncanny valley effect that helps bring to life a truly haunting character that is just fascinating to watch. Some have likened Nyong’o’s work here to Toni Collette’s standout performance in Hereditary last year, a comparison I fully agree with; which reminds me, I need to see about doing a review for Hereditary.

It’d be wrong of me to only highlight the film’s pros without acknowledging the cons as well. Let's start off with a minor flaw, which is that, even though it's a scary movie, the film's doesn't rely on scares; it's juice really comes from just how weird and creepy it feels. As other reviewers have likely pointed out, there’s a rather blatant exposition dump near the end, and the movie might have been better served if that was either cut down or excised completely for the sake of the audience’s imagination. And personally, I found it a little unbelievable how quickly the Wilsons adjusted to their horrific situation. And as I said, despite its high quality and attempt at getting across some sort of message, it does play out pretty conventionally for the most part.

Yet, as I often stress, conventions and cliches don’t have to be a bad thing by default. This movie is a prime example of that. The horror cliches are part of what makes Us so much fun. And while it may not win an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay, it’s another fine work from Jordan Peele. Though you’d get just as much out of it at home with a big screen and surround sound, I’d say Us is still worthy of the price of a theater ticket.

Some additional points:

* Excellent use of the song “I Got 5 on It” by Luniz. As well as another song, which I will not spoil.

* While their roles in the film are small, Elizabeth Moss and Tim Heidecker manage to do a lot with what they’re given as friends of the Wilson parents.

* Having consumed much more TV than movies in recent years, I find myself more appreciative of how films as tight as this can do so much with, comparatively, so little time. As with Peele’s last movie, he’s able to pack a lot of subtext and foreshadowing into the first half hour or more and making it so seamless in the moment before we realize how much of it is laying the foundation for what the film is really about in the end. I know that’s vague, but I’m trying hard to avoid spoilers.

Four out of five golden shears.

Logan Cox

#Us #Us movie #Jordan Peele #Lupita Nyong'o #Winston Duke #Doux Reviews #Movie Reviews

[tommyomalley]

Carol Channing, 1921-2019

July 2005. My editor at the Austin American-Statesman, Michael Barnes, asked me, do you want to interview Carol Channing? And I was like, is Dolly Gallagher Levi a widow?

The reason for the interview was that my friend Stuart Moulton, artistic director of Austin Cabaret Theatre, was bringing Carol to Austin to perform at his company’s gala. The day before she arrived, Stuart called me and asked, “Do you want to pick Carol up from the airport tomorrow with me in a limo?” And I was like, do gentlemen prefer blondes?

That July, I got to spend an hour interviewing 84 year-old Carol Channing on the phone, another hour or so picking her up from the airport and walking her to her suite at the Stephen F. Austin hotel, and another hour or so watching her perform her cabaret act while seated about five feet away from Lady Bird Johnson, who was confined to a wheelchair and nonverbal at the time. In fact, when Carol sang “Hello, Dolly,” she came out into the audience, put Lady Bird’s face between her hands, and delivered the song directly to the First Lady. 

These are among my happiest memories of living in Austin, a place I called home for more than 5 years. Today I’m feeling for the contributions Carol Channing made to our American theater in her 97 years. 

Below is the article I wrote based on my interview. The Statesman’s archives are not easy to navigate, so I had to dig into my old word files to find this. I believe my editor took out all the references I made to pissing my pants when it went to print, but this is what 22 year-old me thought was appropriate to publish. And here are a few gems I didn’t put into the article, presumably because my frontal lobe was just coming into formation:

--on more than one occasion, Carol Channing fell from the stage into the orchestra pit & broke bones. Still, she never missed a performance.

--on the movie version of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes being cast with Marilyn Monroe instead of her as Lorelei, a role she created on Broadway: “It’s like taking your baby and kidnapping it... I just saw my friend Jane Russell last night in Santa Barbara, and I said to her, ‘I’m still so proud it took two of you to play my part in the movie.’”

###

JULY 2005

Full disclosure (since that’s fashionable these days): By the time I was born, Carol Channing – who will perform her solo show “The First 80 Years Are the Hardest” at an Austin Cabaret Theatre benefit on July 26 – and Mrs. Dolly Gallagher Levi (DGL) had been acquainted for nearly twenty years. Truth is, my first introduction to the diamond-dusted diva was by voice alone (thanks to both the original “Hello, Dolly!” cast recording and “The Addams Family” animated series, in which she portrayed Granny). As a preteen, I admired Channing’s panache. Away from my Catholic mother’s view, I would lip-synch, “When a man with a timid tongue/ Meets a girl with a diffident air…” before an audience of suit jackets and dress shirts, hanging appropriately in the closet.

Channing is exactly the second person I’ve interviewed professionally. A sweet sophomore opportunity, I’m aware. In the time leading to our conversation, I was admittedly wracked with dread. This is, after all, a woman who refers to Al and Lynne (Lunt and Fontanne) like I refer to my roommate Lennie. No amount of preparation helped curb the urge to urinate when Harry Kullijian – Channing’s junior high school sweetheart who she recently married – called to start the interview.

“Carol, this is the Austin American… hold on. Austin American what?” Kullijian reconfirmed.

“Statesman.  The Austin American-Statesman,” I replied, noting that I wouldn’t have to tell anyone if I actually wet myself. Before I could decided what to do, that voice – rich with the insight its 84 years allow – hit the receiver.

“Good morning, Aushtin American Shtateshman!  With whom am I speaking?” Channing initiated, sounding more enthusiastic than she probably was. My inner musical queen begged me to respond, “Hello, Carol. Well hello, Carol.” But my outer professional, who values his job, decided instead to introduce myself and brief her on the interview format.

We began with requisite discussions about Austin – “I’ve performed there many, many times.  They’re a great audience,” she volunteered – and Texas in general. Musing on distinctly Texan pronunciations, Channing said, “Lots of things are odd in Texas” (a sentiment this Yankee seconds). She also mentioned a party being thrown in her honor by Liz Carpenter, the Statesman reporter who went to Washington and became Lady Bird Johnson’s press secretary. Channing has maintained a bond with the Johnson family since she sang “Hello, Lyndon!” for the President’s 1964 reelection campaign. She reproduced the chorus over the phone, providing yet another assault on my already overactive bladder. Once talk of Texas grew tired, the conversation migrated 2,200 miles northeast.

I saw my first professional production – a pre-Broadway tryout of the Rosie O’Donnell “Grease” – at the Colonial Theatre in Boston.  A half century earlier, Channing, having “(written) papers on communism, socialism and democracy at Bennington College in Vermont,” went to Boston for an audition to be Eve Arden’s understudy in the Danny Kaye musical, “Let’s Face It.” On the same stage that I would later hear O’Donnell warble “There Are Worse Thing I Could Do” – itself a singular theatrical event – Channing landed one of her first Broadway parts, a milestone she attributes to the fact she and Arden wore the same size. Almost thirty years later, when Channing left “Hello, Dolly” in Chicago to film “Thoroughly Modern Millie” (one of her only forays into movies, for which she received an Oscar nomination), the prolific producer David Merrick got Arden to fill in. Arden reportedly greeted the cast with the disclaimer, “The reason I got the part is because I fit into Ms. Channing’s costumes.”

As an understudy, Channing began her career shadowing other performers. Later, she made a name for herself mimicking them. Her popularity grew with a role in the Charles Gaynor review “Lend an Ear,” which featured choreography by her eventual “Dolly” director, Gower Champion. Marge Champion, who had seen Channing’s act, introduced the starlet to her husband at an audition. Of that fateful first meeting, Channing recounted, “Marge just said, ‘Do Getrude Lawrence. Do Ethel Waters.’ I did Ethel Merman and Bea Lillie… Well I got all the way through with 12 numbers and (Gower) said, ‘Do you have any more?’ And I didn’t, (so) he said, ‘Go back and start again.’”

Channing did, and, as a result, won a role that would catch the eye of the late showbiz caricaturist Al Hirschfeld. Hirschfeld sketched Channing in the show’s comic “Gladiola Girl” scene. “It did it for me,” she remembered. “I had no idea how funny the character was (until then).” The audiences and critics, on the other hand, had been noticing all along.

Channing’s status as a headlining star was solidified by her Lorelei Lee in 1949’s “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.” Marilyn Monroe’s constipated “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” from the 1953 film will forever be linked to the role, thanks to the medium’s permanence. But to the discerning ear, only Channing’s gravelly refinement will ever do the song justice. About Monroe’s Lorelei, Channing said flatly, “It’s like taking your baby and kidnapping it.”  

A stint replacing Rosalind Russell in “Wonderful Town” followed (postpartum poster person Brooke Shields played the same role recently). In 1951, Channing received her first Tony nomination for the flop, “The Vamp.” A second nomination came in 1961 for “The Showgirl,” a compilation of her nightclub acts. Three years later, Channing won a Tony for her immortal performance in “Hello, Dolly!” She toured DGL around the country on and off for more than thirty years. Amazingly, in more than 5,000 performances she never used an understudy. In 1964, Joanne Worley (pronounced like “worldly,” as Ms. Channing pointed out to me), was Carol’s stand-by. At the outset, Channing said to her, “Oh Joanne, you’ll never go on, but come along.  You’re great company.”

Her work horse mentality sets Channing apart from every subsequent generation of actors. Asked about her perfect batting average, which she maintains to this day, the accidental legend offered a typically self-effacing response: “At the end of each show when I was sick, I either felt better or I was getting cured. I did it for selfish reasons.” With what she has given to generations of theatergoers, Channing’s claims of selfishness were difficult to process.

By the time our hour was up, I had gotten through all the important stuff. I was grateful for the opportunity to speak with one of the true greats, and more importantly, I was grateful for not soaking my shorts in the process.

#carol channing #austin american statesman #austin cabaret theatre #stuart moulton #interview

[catrinamcgregorcontextlog]

Ken Currie

Ken Currie, born and based in Glasgow. He is a member of the New Glasgow boys and is the most politically outspoken amongst them. His work often focuses on themes of mortality, disease and politically charged violence in Glasgow.

Three Oncologists (2002) | Oil on canvas | 1950 x 2430 mm

Summary 

Models in the painting are surgeon’s Professor RJ Steele, Professor Sir Alfred Cuschieri and Professor Sir David P Lane

analysis 

The three surgeons are the only subject matter in the whole composition, heightening their presence and importance. The background is black and empty, like a void - this immortalises the figures, they look otherworldly. I think Currie wants us to look at the men like saints, or something beyond mortal - better than mortal to emphasise the miracles these surgeons do.

The light misty fade coming from them make them look ethereal. The soft, white mist directing upwards from them make them look otherworldly, like they’re spirits or angels, this fits because these men have brought many people back to life in their career, much like a resurrector or even a necromancer.

techniques

Julie Lawson suggested to Currie created casts of their faces to remember their shape because he couldn’t sit them down and paint them for hours on end because they were busy men.

Currie had to go into theatre with the two surgeons (Steele and Cuschieri) to watch them work and sketch down positions they were in while at work.

Currie then painted it with oil paint on a large scale canvas. I think he used oil paints slow drying to his advantage when creating the mist, he must’ve used a very thin layer of paint and smudged it in thoroughly.

context

The men were in charge of an oncology unit in Dundee, Currie had to get to know them individually to capture their essence. David Lane said people view cancer as this darkness and their job was to save people from the darkness that is cancer. Currie sees it less as a portrait, and more about his experience meeting these people. He thought it was a much deeper process for him because he didn’t just capture what they looked like, he spent time with them and their work and got to know these literal miracle workers as people, not just a portrait.

I think Currie was trying to shine a spotlight on those who basically do Gods work, their ability to heal and bring people back from the dead would've been seen as a miracle - Currie wanted to place them at the same power of God.

Black Backed Gull (2018) | Oil on canvas | 3050 x 2130 mm

Summary

Currie was initially inspired by the composition and shape of a deceased gull he saw.

analysis

The composition looks like a religious mural. The gull’s crucified shape hanging above the butchers reminds me of Jesus’ crucifixion, and the culprits (romans). The gull is large and in the centre hanging above the two butchers, the gull looks like its glowing because of the bright white, the positioning is similar to other depictions of the crucifixion of Christ, like ‘Christ crucified - Diego Velazquez’

The tone is very sorrowful. Not much is seen in the background except the dark blue sky and a hatch of mayflies surround the gull, the butchers are bowing their heads, it could be seen as them mourning the loss of such a majestic creature even though they were the ones that killed it - its a sorrowful atmosphere.

techniques

Currie did an etching of the gull when he saw it hung dead amongst crows and later developed it into this larger painting.

Currie then painted it with oil paint. He likely started with a thin layer and built up the layers on top of the thin layer to create a sense of dimension.

context

Currie is quite pessimistic when it comes to death and mortality - he thinks this is a good outlook to have. It helps him cope with what happens in the world today. He was more interested than the composition than any deep theme, he saw the gull hung, he wanted to capture the composition and let the audience make their own interpretations - I think it quite Biblical.

Panel 3, Down In The Woods (2018) | Oil on canvas |

Summary

‘Down in the woods’ is the last panel of a 3 panel piece.

analysis

The composition is quite theatrical. It looks staged, the man hovering over him has made sure the victim is in view of the audience, the way he is holding the bat looks exaggerated and their is no sign of swift movement meaning the man must be holding this stance for a while. The red backdrop looks like a curtain as if they’re on a stage.

The red backdrop adds to the drama. The curtain emphasises the colour red, the colour of blood. Red is often associated with danger and violence so it fits, red is also seen as blood dripping down the mans back. The large body of red drags more attention to the violence that is taking place.

techniques

Currie then painted it with oil paint. He likely started with a thin layer and built up the layers on top of the thin layer to create a sense of dimension.

context

Currie wanted to portray organised violence. The man with the bat looks as if he is clubbing a seal, not a human being. The victim seems to be accepting his fate - like it’s deserved or expected. It reminds me of the brutality of factory farming or harming animals in pursuit of food of skin. We often gloss over the way the meat on our table has gotten there, or how our leather boots are made, it’s made in such an awful and brutal way - killing and animal but we don’t want to think about that. Seeing humans being treated like animals sends a powerful message on the organised violence we let happen to animals.

“He’s got a laurel leaf thing around his head like he’s been selected to be martyred or sacrificed. But the whole thing has got a theatrical feeling to it. This isn’t taking place in a real forest. It’s an imagined, theatrical event that’s happening.” - Ken Currie

Study, Man With A Petrol Bomb (2001) | Oil on canvas | 1820 x 2290 mm

Summary

Ken Currie’s study of a man with a petrol bomb.

analysis

The colour is very cold, adding to the deadly atmosphere. I think the figure looks like a grim reaper of sorts, ready to kill. You can see his bones and the blue in his skin makes him look cold, like a corpse. He is about to bring death like the grim reaper.

Currie uses light to create an impactful and ghoulish presence. Currie once again uses an all black backdrop with nothing but a glowing, blue, skeletal figure ready to throw what looks like a petrol bomb, its very ghoulish and quite terrifying.

techniques

Currie then painted it with oil paint. He likely started with a thin layer and built up the layers on top of the thin layer to create a sense of dimension.

context

A person all too familiar to Glaswegians, especially those from the rougher areas like the EastEnd and parts of town. Gang violence is a problem in Glasgow especially during the 2000′s. This piece could be relating to Glasgow’s drug feud which took place in 2001, turning the streets of Glasgow into a war zone. It is still relevant today as it is still common for Glasgow’s gangs to start fighting with weapons like these.

Resources:

https://consideringart.com/2019/02/22/ken-currie-red-ground/

https://www.flowersgallery.com/artists/174-ken-currie/

https://www.nationalgalleries.org/art-and-artists/65127/three-oncologists-professor-rj-steele-professor-sir-alfred-cuschieri-and-professor-sir-david-p-lane

https://www.artlyst.com/reviews/ken-currie-protest-defeat-victory-revd-jonathan-evens/

https://news.stv.tv/west-central/1437736-gangland-drugs-feud-that-turned-glasgow-into-a-war-zone?top

https://www.culture24.org.uk/places-to-go/scotland/art13981

#folio1context

[aion-rsa]

Holiday Gift Guide 2019: Books for Geeks

https://ift.tt/2L0II44

It's that time of the year for a good book beside the fireplace! Here's what you'll want to be reading this holiday season.

facebook

twitter

tumblr

We've searched far and wide to bring you the best shopping recommendations! Just a note: Den of Geek may receive a small commission from links on this page. Prices & stockage are accurate as of time of publication.

Tis the season... for buying books for your friends, family, and colleagues! We've compiled a list for the variety of nerds in your life—from Doctor Who to Dune, from Game of Thrones to The Adventure Zone, we've got a geeky book gift recommendation for you.

Here is a list of 15 books we recommend for every kind of nerd in your life.

I Love the Bones of You: My Father and the Making of Me by Christopher Eccleston

For: The Doctor Who fan in your life

Raw and real, this memoir by Doctor Who and The Leftovers actor Christopher Eccleston is a reflection on his relationship with his stoic yet loving father following his death. If you're looking for something a bit more serious this holiday season, check this out—it includes some lovely details about Eccleston's personal life, including the fact that his kid calls the Daleks "the Garlics." Adorable.

Buy I Love the Bones of You by Christopher Eccleston

Monster, She Wrote: The Women Who Pioneered Horror and Speculative Fiction by Lisa Kroger and Melanie R. Anderson

For: The literary history nerd in your life

Women have, historically, been written out of history and/or had their impact greatly diminished. Monster, She Wrote attempts to correct some of that injustice by highlighting the women writers who "defied convention to craft some of literature's stangest tales." Including more well-known writers like Mary Shelley and lesser known scribes like Magaret "Mad Madge" Cavendish, who wrote a sci-fi epic 150 years before Shelley penned Frankenstein, even your most obsessive of literary friends will most likely find something new in this tome.

Buy Monster, She Wrote: The Woman Who Pioneered Horror and Speculative Fiction

Star Trek: The Official Guide to the Animated Series by Aaron Harvey, Rich Schepis, and Saturday Morning Trek

For: The Star Trek fan in your life

With a new animated Star Trek series right around the corner, now is the perfect time to celebrate the original animated Trek adventure: the highly underrated Star Trek: The Animated Series. Continuing on the canon begun in The Original Series, The Animated Series continues to influence Trek canon today—most especially when it comes to Discovery.

This book includes behind-the-scenes production documents, never-before-seen art, and all-new interviews with the people who produced the animated adventures, and is perfect for Star Trek fans who have already consumed The Animated Series and Star Trek fans who have yet to discover the series' unique delights.

Buy Star Trek: The Official Guide to the Animated Series

Firefly: The Big Damn Cookbook by Chelsea Monroe-Cassel

For: The Firefly fan in your life

We're always looking for ways to dive back into the world of cancelled-too-soon Firefly, and this cookbook is a particularly fun way to do so. Including over 70 recipes inspired by the Joss Whedon TV show, Firefly: The Big Damn Cookbook is the perfect gift for your nerdy friend who also happens to be into cooking. Who knows? Maybe they'll share some of Mama Reynold's shoofly pie with you?

Buy Firefly: The Big Damn Cookbook 

Warrior of the Altaii by Robert Jordan

For: The Wheel of Time fan in your life

With Amazon's Wheel of Time series currently filming, the fantasy epic nerd in your life is probably hyped for all things Robert Jordan. While the beloved author passed away back in 2007, Tor Books recently published his very first novel, Warrior of the Altaii, an action-driven fantasy about a group of horse warriors whose very existence is threatened. It's the perfect gift for the Wheel of Time fan in your life.

Buy Warrior of the Altaii by Robert Jordan

Resistance Reborn: Journey to Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker by Rebecca Roanhorse

For: The Star Wars fan in your life

By the time Christmas rolls around, most Star Wars fans will have consumed The Rise of Skywalker with their eyeballs and will be hungry for more. Enter this official book from Hugo Award-winning author Rebecca Roanhorse, which explores what happens to Poe, Leia, Rey, and Finn between the last two movies.

Buy Resistance Reborn: Journey to Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker by Rebecca Roanhorse

The Art of Game of Thrones, The Official Book of Design From Seasons 1 to 8

For: The Game of Thrones fan in your life

While Game of Thrones fans may not be happy with the narrative consistency of the last few seasons of the HBO epic, I don't think anyone can find a flaw in the production design work of this gorgeous (and expensive) show. Game of Thrones fans can celebrate the consistent successes of this show with The Art of Game of Thrones—which includes 432 pages of concept art, sketches, and production design images. The perfect coffee table book for the fantasy nerd in your life!

Buy The Art of Game of Thrones

The Future of Another Timeline by Annalee Newitz

For: The riot girl in your life

In what is sure to become a feminist time travel classic, io9 founding editor Annalee Newitz ties together the perspectives of time traveler Tess, working to stop a group of misogynists from destroying time travel forever, and Beth, a 17-year-old girl exploring the punk scene in 1992 California. Really, this standalone novel a great book for any science fiction lover in your life, but if they have a particular interest in social justice, even better!

Buy The Future of Another Timeline by Annalee Newitz

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: The Illustrated Edition

For: The Harry Potter fan in your life

Harry Potter is always a safe gift bet, especially when it comes to these gorgeous illustrated editions, with art from award-winning artist Jim Kay that could be framed and hung on the wall. The Goblet of Fire is the most recent release in this series, but, even if your gift-receiver doesn't have the previous three books in the series, this is a gift any Potterhead would be ecstatic to get.

Buy Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: The Illustrated Edition

The Adventure Zone: Murder on the Rockport Limited!

For: The D&D fan in your life

The second book in the McElroy family's wildly successful graphic novel adaptation series of their popular D&D podcast, Murder on the Rockport Limited! works for longtime fans of the pod or for those who couldn't tell Clint from Travis. Art from Carey Pietsch brings this fantastical and hilarious world to life, making this the perfect gift for loved ones who have always wanted their own D&D campaign jump off of the table.

Buy The Adventure Zone: Murder on the Rockport Limited!

Children of Virtue and Vengeance

For: The YA fan in your life

Hot off the presses this December, this sequel to Tomi Adeyemi's debut fantasy Children of Blood and Bone is sure to be one of the most-talked-about YA books of the year. The story of Zélie and Amari continues as Adeyemi further explores her west African-inspired fantasy world, as magic returns to the land of Orïsha in this second book in the planned trilogy.

Buy Children of Virtue and Vengeance by Tomi Adeyemi

The City in the Middle of the Night by Charlie Jane Anders

For: The classic science fiction fan in your life

Many have compared Charlie Jane Anders' work to sci-fi legend Ursula Le Guin, and it's not hard to see why: Anders' work is as topical and it is visionary. Anders' second novel after All the Birds in the Sky, The City in the Middle of the Night takes readers to a tidally-locked planet divided between a permanently frozen darkness on one side of the body and an endless sunshine on the other. Anders' recycles some of the elements of classic science fiction into something beautiful and new. 

Buy City in the Middle of the Night by Charlie Jane Anders

Dune: Deluxe Edition by Frank Herbert

For: The person in your life who won't stop talking about the upcoming Dune movie

It's a good time to be a Dune fan. Not only is there a screen adaptation coming from Arrival director Denis Villeneuve in 2020, but Ace just released this gorgeous special edition of the fantasy classic. With an iconic new cover, a redesigned world map of Dune, an updated intro from Brian Herbert, and stained page edges, this story has never looked so good.

Buy Dune: The Deluxe Edition by Frank Herbert

Gideon: The Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

For: The lesbian necromancers in your life

Come for the lesbian necromancers, stay for the skeleton battles! I... don't really feel like I need to write anything else after that. But this buzzworthy 2019 title is a definitive winner: The start of a planned trilogy, Gideon the Ninth follows indentured-servant-turned-swordswoman Gideon Nav, who is tasked with keeping sworn enemy Harrowhark Nonagesimus safe. 

Buy Gideon: The Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

For: The speculative fiction fan who only has time for a novella

To call this lovely story "only" a novella would be doing the craft of the story a disservice. Told from the dual perspectives of two time-traveling agents from warring futures, Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone choose every word of this story thoughtfully. Their war may stretch across space and time, but the relationship between Red and Blue is beautiful in its intimacy. The perfect gift to trick your loved one into reading more of both El-Mohtar and Gladstone's wonderful work.

Buy This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Kayti Burt is a staff editor covering books, TV, movies, and fan culture at Den of Geek. Read more of her work here or follow her on Twitter @kaytiburt.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

facebook

twitter

tumblr

Feature Kayti Burt

Nov 27, 2019

Science Fiction Books

Fantasy Books

Young Adult Fiction

from Books https://ift.tt/37LnFw3

#aion-rsa #Books

[owlyouth]

Films: The Best Films of 2019 So Far (January-April)

These are the films i’ve seen so far this year, ranked. There are a couple which aren’t from 2019, but almost none from before 2017. 

I’ve left out a couple that are either rewatches (Reservoir Dogs) or old classics i’ve never got round to watching before (Three Colours: Blue).

See what you think.

The Favourite / Palace intrigue, absurdist costumes, comedy and insane dialogue this film was fun in the smartest and most rewarding ways possible. A completely entertaining and self-contained original script that seemed perfectly tempered by its long gestation and edits from different authors. (Award for Best Wigs and the Word ‘Cuntstruck’)

Beast / This film is the most twisted, non-twisted film. Like being gently stroked by someone you don’t trust only to have a bucket of gravel thrown over your head. Never has a film’s title hovered over it so emphatically and in such a way that it gives it an extra dynamic poetics. Both the leads hold the camera in frightening and surprising ways throughout. Strangely similar to Burning and Gone Girl. Also the better of the two Jessie Buckley films on this list. (Award for being like Gone Girl, but British and Better)

Us / Better than Her, You, and Them, this was just as good as almost everyone said. A truly great genre film that held its audience with a Jordan Peele stranglehold that is unrivalled in mainstream cinema. The film seemed to suffer with audiences in some cases, but only because they were comparing it to Get Out. Both are exceptional, I don’t have a favourite, but while it’s an inevitable comparison, it also makes no sense, they are both two of the best films of the last few years. (Award for Best Film to Watch in the Cinema)

Wind River / This was also a great genre film, but where Us made you grab your chair, Wind River trusts you to navigate along with it in a way that’s slow, careful and methodical. I found this incredibly engrossing, similar to Winter’s Bone in some ways, and my favourite of the frontier trilogy written by Taylor Sheridan - the other two are Sicario and Hell or High Water. (Award for Best Nick Cave Humming Soundtrack)

You Were Never Really Here / This film from the maker of We Need To Talk About Kevin and Ratcatcher is just as dark as its predecessors. It is also a very self-contained story of a hitman rescuing a girl from high-powered brothel. Not for the faint hearted, but incredibly engrossing and just a great gut-punch of a film. (Award for Best Taxi Driver Remake)

Leave No Trace / I just watched this one and while I didn’t love it as much as Mark Kermode (it was his favourite film of last year), I did love the length of time you got to spend with the characters. A father and daughter living out in the woods, have to navigate changes; films with this little content make you realise how jam-packed most mainstream films are, and how little the extra stuff really adds. The sense of the outside and of alienation from mainstream society slowly sinks in so that by the end, I felt a bit surrounded by all the stuff in my room. (The Kelly Reichardt Award for film without much of a Conventional Plot)

Burning / This is based on a Murakami short story, is also a slow-moving film. It reminded me of The Square, but where that film’s downward spiral feels like walking through warm mud, this feels like a breeze. An interesting and kind of awe-inspiring breeze. The dread in this is so well measured and balanced, the tone through the whole thing works perfectly and the performances are incredible. (Award for Best Hobby)

Jellyfish / This is a heartbreaking film about a 15-year-old girl in Margate who - due to an absentee dad and a mum with mental health and substance abuse problems - is trying to care for her two younger siblings and her mum, while keeping up with school and a job. Liv Hill is completely engaging and manages to look exactly as young as a 15-year-old and as old as someone with so much on their shoulders. The film is incredibly low budget and honest and the stand-up comedy (you heard me) that the main character performs as an escape is also brilliant. (Award for Most Supportive Teacher)

Fighting With My Family / From the low budget to the high. I’m not sure why I enjoyed this film so much, it’s a pretty straightforward feel-good film about a rags-to-riches wrestler. Based on a priceless Channel 4 documentary and directed by Stephen Merchant for maximum Norwich-girl-in-Los-Angeles comedy it is equal parts silly and warm, and it left a lump in my throat. (Award for Most Generic Regional Accents)

Ruby Sparks / This is slightly older than the other films on this list (2012), but i’d forgotten how good it was until I watched Wildfire and was reminded about Zoe Kazan and Paul Dano (see more at no. 17). Anyway it is a great feminist read on the idea of the female muse and tortured male author. In one sentence: a successful writer’s new character suddenly appears in his house, and other people can see her too. It’s got the feel of a Charlie Kaufman film, but without the self-hatred. (Award for Best Antonio Banderas Cameo)

Wild Rose / Another heart-warmer here, but with some grit thanks to the relationship between Julie Walters and Jessie Buckley. The film has a strange tonal shift at the end where every imaginable loose end gets resolved, which is a shame because the rest of it is understated and down-to-the-ground. (Award for Best Mince)

Spiderman: Into the Spider Verse / This one went under a lot of people’s radars. An animated film with the closest visual style to actual graphic novels ever, it is fun and funny, though I wasn’t all that invested by the end. Lots of people said that it surprised them, which had me expecting something more surprising, still lots of laughs and visually awesome. (Award for Best Psychedelic Fight to the Death, and Best Pig Spider)

Green Book / This film suffered massively for having won the Best Picture Oscar. If it weren’t for that we could have celebrated the good bits and not have to dissect it as The Symbol of Racial Retrenchment in Hollywood. There’s an argument to say that the film needs that kind of dissection either way, and I agree, but the positives in here - the lead performance from Mahershala Ali in particular - are worth celebrating, a little. (Award for Best Film with ‘Book’ in the Title)

The Spy Who Dumped Me / This is silly fun, but also one long car chase. A film that belongs on Netflix. Kate McKinnon is always hilarious, but it’s still jarring to watch SNL-style-sketch-acting in a film. (Award for Best Uber Ride) 

Dumplin’ / ‘With the best will in the world’ should be the tagline for this film. It makes sense that this sits on Netflix forever, for that day when you and your mates want to watch something without thinking about anything. But it is also not as good as similar films. See Little Miss Sunshine for further details. (Award for Best Jennifer Aniston Vehicle)

Three Identical Strangers / A documentary that got a lot of hype -  identical triplets who only discovered each other’s existence in their late teens, became minor celebrities and then find out about how they were separated at birth. The story is incredible, but is told in a pretty plain way and by the end I was wondering why I was interested. (Award for Best Kvetching)

Hell or High Water / This is the weakest of Taylor Sheridan’s frontier trilogy (with Wind River and Sicario coming in first and second respectively for me) but it is still a good story well told. It is the story of two bank robbing brothers out to raise enough money for one of them to look after his kids. For me the two central performances didn’t work, Chris Pine is wooden (sorry) and Ben Foster is irritating as the more erratic brother. Jeff Bridges and Gil Birmingham to drag the film into some deeper and more interesting place. (Award for Best Car Switching Technique)

Wildlife / I had high hopes for Wildlife after enjoying Ruby Sparks a lot, Paul Dano and Zoe Kazan co-wrote this and Paul Dano directed as well. While this kind of sad, simmering story might have been carried by grand naturalistic symbolism when Terrence Malick was at his height (not now, but check out Days of Heaven), this film seems to be dragged by actors all too aware that they're in a film directed by an actor. (Award for film most like an American Novel from the 1950s)

Unicorn Store / This film is a mess. It only goes above Crazy Rich Asians because of the sweet relationship between Brie Larson and Mamoudou Athie, which feels like the kind of romance that can only happen in a film with such low stakes. (Award for Having a Film with no Script Supervision)

Crazy Rich Asians / While celebrating the victory for representation of an all-Asian mainstream romantic comedy, this is still a pretty depressing film to watch. It is clearly not a film made for me, but I also think there are films made for other audiences which have more skill, with less annoying people, and don’t seem to celebrate money quite so much. Yes to the representation, this Awkwafina music video, and Ken Jeong eating spicy chicken wings. No to the rest. (Award for Most Watery Walk Down the Aisle)

#films #filmreview #2019 films

[viralnewstime]

Northern Territory artist Caiti Baker has unveiled a passionate and loving tribute to her home in the far north of Australia, in the form of her second studio album, the conceptual ‘Mary of the North’.

“Mary of the North is a vibe. She’s a mood. She’s the essence of the Northern Territory to me,” explains Baker. “With production solely by James Mangohig whose influences ranged from T Bone Burnett and The Mandalorian to Tarantino movie soundtracks and the Moog One synthesiser, I wrote about what came naturally to me at the time… Which was during some extremely sobering and emotional moments in Australia’s environmental history.

“Inspired also by the amazing humans that make up my community here in the NT, I want listeners to hear the textures, colours and tones that make this place the incredibly unique and interesting home that it is to many.”

In celebration of the new release, Caiti Baker has kindly offered to take us through the record, track by track.

No More

‘No More’ is about making the decision that you were destined to make with the utmost conviction; leaving a situation that didn’t suit any more…time to journey onto the next chapter. Move forward, never look back. ‘No More’ was written in one bedroom studio session – the song took form over James’ knocking drum programming and bent guitar demos which were later reimagined by genius guitarist Ben Edgar. Featured on backing vocals are my fellow Territorians Serina Pech, Stevie Jean, Yola Gray and Eleanor Dixon.

Mirror

‘Mirror’ is all about ego and self-worth. One of the oldest songs on the album, Mirror was written circa 2014 but wasn’t meant to exist in the world until now with its family of songs on Mary of the North. With some minor lyrical changes, It’s now part of the journey that Mary takes through the north of owning her worth and the experiences she’s endured. The only song that features the piano playing of Adelaide based musician John Bartlett with additional drum production by his brother Paul Bartlett (who together are SIXFOUR and my touring band) and extra production of Sydney’s renown hip hop producer PaperToy.

Walk With Yourself

‘Walk With Yourself’ is about confronting the lies and misinformation that has been fed to you all your life. Whether it’s societal structures or religious ethos; I think about how to confront those fears within ourselves to stop the (potentially dangerous) patterns from continuing. Learning to be strong enough to understand that elements of our past have been distorted which can potentially affect the way we live and process information in the present. It’s about growth, about being kind to yourself and taking time to move on. The production is dusty and warm and a little Tarantino-esque which visually places you in an ochre soaked desert with rusty metals and broken trees; places that are uniquely Northern Territorian.

Green Eyes

‘Green Eyes’ is about Mary. Mary is a “good time”; she’s a feeling; she’s a lifestyle; she’s a key to creativity. She spreads her happiness and her beautiful green eyes to all she meets and she’s well-loved. Having a cup of tea with Mary is something I love to do and thus inspired the song!

Worth It

Were the choices made the right ones? Questioning a semi lived life and all that’s been learnt along the way. Is it all Worth it? Do you know too much? Will we ever know if the reasons we believe we’re here for have all been worth it? Worth what? Choices, decisions, paths, directions, options… Autonomous? Forced? Worth it is also the theme song to BIRDS EYE VIEW Podcast which was created by the Women in Sector Four in the Darwin Correctional Centre. The song features found sounds from the prison and the women themselves singing the chorus.

Carry You

‘Carry You’ is a song I wrote with Pip Norman aka “5ths” (just called ‘Carry’) in the mid-2000s for my previous band Sietta’s second album. The song was originally a duet and the production was full and warm with a keys solo. The song is about carrying and assisting, caring and loving someone – helping them in their time of need. Re-imagining the tune, I sang the song to a simple and warm acoustic guitar; added some lush harmonies and called upon fellow Settle Down sister Serina Pech to lend her honey-toned harmony voice on the backing vocals.

She’s Cruel

Written and recorded on the days between Xmas and NYE 2019, ‘She’s Cruel’ was inspired by the catastrophic bush fire events happening in our country’s south. Watching the horror unfold from the north, some thousands of kilometres away, was surreal and sobering. Being at the mercy of nature’s undeniable force is what inspired the song. I live in a cyclone-prone environment and wanted that energy to be present in the already “fiery” vocal performances. Like every other track on the “Mary of the North”, She’s Cruel’s production lends itself to an accompanying visual in the listeners’ imagination. A narrative that has yet to be created but inspired by the love and respect the land and environment deserve. Produced entirely by James Mangohig, the deep and moody sonics of She’s Cruel evoke a paradox in the sense of urgency and the warmth of safety.

Last Stop

‘Last Stop’ is a poetic ode to the visuals, sounds, smells and experiences of a simple life lived by the Ocean in Darwin. It was inspired by the parking lot that my apartment looks out over that becomes filled with cars and boat trailers each weekend. Rolling bass, dancing guitars and some organic percussion set off my (for the most part) singular vocal.

Welcome to the aftermath

What a time to be alive! ‘Welcome to the Aftermath’ is about being open to changing perspectives on the world and its constant state of disarray. We live in the craziest and best times of human existence, yet as we collectively have the ability to know and be educated on just about anything in the world at any time, we are overwhelmed and our societies and environments are changing rapidly. It’s an incredible oddity that we are here and whilst all seems to be doom and gloom, we have the power to question ourselves and make different choices that will inevitably affect our younger generations. This is the outro of the album. A journey of two parts that begins with something maybe more familiar; then sketches out into a soundscape worthy of an acid trip.

–

‘Mary Of The North’ is out now.

The post Caiti Baker Takes Us Track By Track Through New Album, ‘Mary Of The North’ appeared first on Music Feeds.

from Music Feeds https://ift.tt/2VxCj5T

#Blogger

[the-master-cylinder]

Make-up Artist and Prosthesis Technician, Leo Lotito, the head of the TBS Studios Make-up Department, where V’s filmed for Warner Bros. Television. With over 40 years of experience in his craft, Lotito considers himself one of the more fortunate. He apprenticed his beginning years under the tutelage of Ernie Westmore, one of the famous legion of Westmore Brothers, Hollywood make-up pioneers.

Leo first became involved in the makeup business when, by chance, he showed Westmore some of his drawings and sketches. Lotito, at first, entertained the thought of becoming an actor while recuperating from injuries suffered in World War II. Upon entering the theatrical world he soon became disenchanted and turned to film editing. But that lasted only several weeks.

While working as an apprentice cutter he realized that wasn’t his game either. He then turned to sketching and drawing. One day, Ernie Westmore walked in to where Lotito was working, glanced over his shoulder and liked what he saw. Westmore felt that Lotito had promise and took him under his wing.

“It was a great experience,” Leo explained. “I did everything. I worked with old mortician’s wax, learned how to blend materials, balance formulas and come up with the proper color and texture. I learned how to mold and shape latex masks. It was an apprenticeship of the finest sense. Too bad producers gave up those early apprenticeship programs. They would be smart to start them up again, you can learn so much.

“You know, today, Make-Up is not just simply applying flesh colored creams and mascara. Today you absolutely must know much more. You have to understand prosthetics, mechanics, formulas and a little magic doesn’t hurt either. It took us three weeks of experimenting and testing just to decide how we were going to approach some of the complex problems that V presented,” he said. The most difficult situation, Lotito felt, was designing the prosthesis and dummy heads. They had to look realistic when the scenes called for the alien’ characters to eat live rodents.

Lotito worked on the classic Planet Of The Apes films. There testing, retesting and endless hours of experimenting to achieve the right effect was a way of life. “Oh, babe, it was indeed a tough assignment, no bones about it,” he reminisces, “but I learned so much working with John Chambers.” Leo credits Chambers with creating everything spectacular on ‘Apes’. However, after two ‘Apes’ films, Lotito found it just too demanding and resigned from that assignment. Chambers, of course, continued, eventually winning an Academy Award for his accomplishments. “You know, on ‘Apes’, everything revolved around the make-up department. It was probably the only time a production actually worked around what we were doing, and that in itself was quite unique,” he states proudly.

Lab, When writer Ken Johnson first explored the possibilities of having his alien creatures be reptiles, a lot of research went into the project. Johnson didn’t want the standard and often used early science fiction concept of a prehistoric monster. Various zoological experts and scientists were brought in so that the design of the V reptiles would be as authentic as possible. Details such as the correct way the creatures’ mouths opened and closed while chewing, head movements, eyes blinking, how the skin rippled and expanded when they would turn or stretch were given close scrutiny. When Ken Johnson and Charles Davis, V’s production designer, were 100% sure of exactly what their aliens would look like, Lotito was approached with that concept.

Leo Lotito

Leo had read the script, sent to him earlier. He immediately knew that the effect Johnson was looking for would require a great deal of prosthesis work. Prosthesis involves the use of artificial limbs or other body parts.

“Prosthesis is a very tricky thing in make-up. If the application isn’t just so, it will look very phony and out of place. Hell, your audience will spot it in seconds. It also takes proper lighting and a perfect color match to work effectively, not an easy task by any means, “Lotito explains.

He feels that make-up is a team thing and definitely not just a one man show. While Lotito heads the TBS make-up department, he does not consider himself ‘a boss’. He feels he’s only as good as the men and women he works with and always strives for a team effort.

For V, Leo explained, it took five complete sculpture molds and endless hours of working with actors and experimenting. Only then did he and Werner Keppler, his very talented lab man, finally come up with a workable model for every face needed. From there, latex molds were cast and again tested on the actors to make sure everything fit exactly before it went on film. There was no room for error. Since realism was the key, applying the make-up for actual shooting became a laborious, painstaking process. Usually it took between two to two and one half hours in applying and nearly the same amount of time to remove.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

On V, a make-up man was on the set every step of the way. Especially when the scene called for the actor’ to ‘break out of his human features and turn into the alien-lizard. Since the on-camera process could only be done once, the actors had to be extremely cautious. They were carefully coached and instructed on ‘ripping away’ the top mask of the human features, without destroying the underlying alien features below that. Professionalism on all levels paid off here. “Not one mistake was made, much to everyone’s relief,” Leo grinned.

“Make-up is very important to today’s films. Movie and television audiences are just too sophisticated. Everyone wants realism. Explosions, burns, gunshot wounds, aging. Years ago, if a script called for an actor to be shot or injured in a scene, well, most likely, the director would instruct the actor to let out a pained yell, clutch his side, or shoulder or whatever, fall down and feign unconsciousness. Then, of course, the audience would assume the worst and imagine the rest. Why, heck, today almost everything is subject to graphic detail. Blood, guts, gore and God knows what else. So, the make-up takes on a special significance. You have to give them what they want!” Lotito explained.

While make-up and graphic effects are done for pure shock effect in some films and programs, everything utilized in V was significant to the story. Particularly in those scenes where the alien characters are shown to be eating live guinea pigs, mice and parakeets. This, of course, gives the audience credible proof that these so called humans are not really quite so human after all.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The illusion of having actress Jane Badler eat a mouse was achieved by utilizing a latex life mask, molded in the actress’ image. The mask was then positioned over a hydraulic, mechanized head; life-like in every way, even down to the blinking of her eyes. Through a series of cut away shots and camera positions, it does appear that she actually swallows the rodent. Taking it one step further, Lotito and his company of experts created a neck appliance that was fastened from just below the actress’ chin on down to her breast bone. This specially designed appliance housed three separate air bladders and was operated by compressed air, which in turn was controlled by cables and wires carefully concealed off camera. When operated properly, it gave the illusion of something whole being swallowed. Jane’s fine acting aided the illusion and the audience believed she had just eaten alive rodent.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Rick Stratton was called upon by Leo Lotito, to work on the various makeup FX required for V: The Final Battle, the second of two pilots leading to this fall’s new SF series. “I was one of the first people hired for the show: Leo has a tendency to look out for me in that way, giving me first crack at things.

“Leo was the makeup coordinator, Wemer Keppler was the lab supervisor; any ideas we had went through him, for him to provide his very knowledgeable input, and to let everybody know just what was going to be done and by whom. The balance of the crew was myself, Terry Smith and Jeff Kennemore, all working in the same basic capacity; sculpting, molding and application of the prosthetics and so on.

“Werner Keppler really deserves the largest credit for the face-ripping sequences. which are really a follow-up on similar sequences he and his crew did on the first pilot. Werner did all the on-set application, and everybody had a hand in on the sculpture and molding, under his supervision. My design involvement was mostly for the lizard baby, and the human baby with the reptilian tongue.

“The guy who created the series originally wanted something like the first stage of Alien. I wasn’t too fond of that idea, so l went out and rented a whole bunch of videotapes- Alien, Eraserhead, Humanoids from the Deep-to show them different things that had been done with babies. That loosened things up a bit, and we were able to come up with a concept that was sufficiently hideous to please the director. I then did several clay sketches of the lizard baby: the director thought the eyes were too big on my first design–he thought it looked too much like E.T., though I didn’t.

“I was hoping to operate the mechanical baby myself, but due to the union situation, they had to hire someone with an actor’s Card, who was also a puppeteer, Steve Czerkas. Actually, he turned out to be very good; we had a lot of fun with it, and he did a better job than I would’ve been able to do.

“In general though, things weren’t really handled as well as they would have been if the people involved were a little more familiar with effects, and at the same time you’re dealing with a TV attitude that says, “let’s get this stuff over with and get to the love scenes. That was a little disappointing, especially for the scene involving a ‘swallowing head’ I had adapted from Charlie Spurgeon’s mechanicals to show the aliens’ bizarre eating habits. It was designed so that the head would tip back, the eyes roll up, and the jaw would drop five inches or so, and you could drop a guinea pig or something like that down its throat. They wanted one shot of one of the male aliens doing this, and then they were going to shoot the woman. So l had the guy’s head rigged up, and they decided they wanted to do the actress first, so I had to take the entire thing apart and set it up again, They changed the scene all around from what the script had said, they didn’t light it night, they didn’t situate it right so that a hand could come up around it and look like it was her hand. And they shot it very quickly; of course, it didn’t look very good. On the first V. I was told that they spent an entire day on shooting the swallowing sequence; on this one they spent maybe twenty minutes and, though they used a little bit of it in the teaser at the beginning, they wound up cutting it out of the show.”

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY Enterprise Incidents#22 Fangoria#39

V (1983 miniseries) Visitor Alien Effects from Leo Lotito Jr, Werner Keppler & Rick Stratton Make-up Artist and Prosthesis Technician, Leo Lotito, the head of the TBS Studios Make-up Department, where V's filmed for Warner Bros.