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we-are-inevitable · 3 years

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modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

#if u wanna be added to my tag list just let me know !!#newsies #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javid #javey #newsies broadway #newsies musical #newsies fic #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #livesies #toursies #jac writes #jac txt.

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chloe-clegane · 4 years

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My Devotion and Mah Protection, Our Love - Chapter 5

My Favorite Gift is You

Summary - It’s Royal Announcement day!

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

AO3

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A few days later they celebrated Ezran’s birthday. The desserts flowed freely, in fact, there were no other meals, just dessert. The whole eating unwholesome foods in extreme portion sizes was no joke. Contributing to the overload of sweets made Rayla feel a bit… unethical? Enabling? Disgusted? Her own misgivings aside she knew Ezran would appreciate her idea for an Ultimate Deluxe Super Moonberry Surprise Cake, it would be the perfect gift… if she could pull it off.

Rayla woke up early that morning and after some kissing and cuddling with her favorite human, she met with Barius. She explained her vision and the baker was a little distressed when he realized she didn’t have an actual recipe. But he was able to approximate what she described. Barius insisted that he should make the sponge. But figured she would be able to execute the filling and frosting easily enough. She figured it couldn’t be that hard so she followed instructions and got to work.

Most of Ezran’s day was spent with Zym, he’d flown to Katolis with an escort of three skywing dragon guards. He was only able to stay for 2 days so he and Ez were getting in as much quality time as possible. When Rayla left the kitchens to go find her family, she was shocked to see Ezran riding Zym. The dragon had grown considerably in the almost 3 years since he’d hatched and was bigger than a horse now, but Rayla still couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The two kings zipped around the castle towers and through the clouds, Ez whooping and Zym happily chirping.

Rayla came up behind Callum and took his hand, he turned his attention from the sky to smile at her. She gazed up with him “Been quite a’while hasn’t it, since all this started. Funny how they’ve both grown up so much but still somehow managed to stay exactly the same. A couple o’goof balls.”

Callum chuckled “Yeah, it’s true.” He smiled and brought her hand up to place a kiss on it. “The world has changed so much, but somethings, the people you love, they stay the same. Like how amazing you are for example.”

As always his words warmed Rayla’s heart but when he leaned in to kiss her she wiped her head back up to the sky when she saw the aerial duo heading into a tower, grazing it and thankfully not smacking into it full force. “Oye!!! EZ!!! TOWER!!!!” Rayla screamed up at the teen.

“WE’RE OK!” He yelled down and waved, Zym nodded in agreement.

“DON’T BREAK YOUR NECK! I WILL BE SO PISSED!” Callum screamed back. Some of the color drained from his face. “PAY BETTER ATTENTION!” He looked like he was ready to go all mage wings and bring his brother down himself.

Amaya also looked distressed. Frustrated she wasn’t able to scream after him she nudged Janai to make girlfriend do it for her. Even Bait had turned purple.

“Teenagers are stupid” Rayla sighed.

“Hey, we weren't... technically still aren’t” Callum defended.

“Seriously? We’re just lucky our bullshit paid off” She laughed “I climbed the side of that” She pointed “wall. Thinkin’ I could kill a child in cold blood, almost fell to mah death about three times doin’ it. And you kept playin’ with lightnin’ even though you din’ know what you were doin’, nearly killed me I might add!”

He chucked “But I didn’t kill you! So it’s fine.”

“Oh you’re right, that makes everythin’ fine. Wasn’t stupid at all.”

He pouted at her sarcasm but then narrowed his eyes at her “Human Rayla”.

“Don’ go there! I was amazin’ at that! How about Elf Callum or WiNtEr LoDgE, nO wInTeR, nO hUmAnS?”

“Owch” he glared “you've made your point and we should definitely stop this there. I still want you to marry me and I worry this conversation won’t end well.”

She laughed “Aww you’re less stupid now” she cood and he continued to glare back at her. But held her hand anyway. She squeezed it “Like I said, lucky. Our stupidity might save the world.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they continued to nervously watch the air show, screaming every time the teens tried to do barrel rolls and loops. The March day was cooled by the breeze but warmed by the sun, winter was truly at its end and the group enjoyed welcoming the spring.

Soon it was 3rd dessert meal (second lunch?) and the group had it out in one of the courtyards as a picnic. This was the planned time for presents and so everyone had their wrapped packages or hidden gifts with them. Apparently, hand made was a theme. After all, what do you buy for a king? Amaya and Janai were the only ones who didn’t make their gift. It was a sunforged dagger. His aunt felt at 13, it was about time he had his own weapon. Ezran looked a little intimidated by it but thanked them nonetheless.

Soren went second, his surprise was a shockingly not terrible ceramic statue of Ez and Zym hugging. The sculpture wasn’t good, but you could tell who the figures were supposed to be so Rayla felt that the dumb oaf had at least accomplished the goal. Ezran was a little confused but when he figured it out he seemed to really enjoy it. Bait was entirely unimpressed by it, and maybe a little jealous it wasn’t him made in clay.

Callum was also miffed that Soren had made an art project, he muttered into her ear “art is my thing!” She laughed and rolled her eye’s at him. Her fiance’s gift was of extremely better quality, so if it was a competition he still won, but if cake counts as art Rayla thought this could be a very close race. Callum had done a detailed color pencil drawing and had it framed, it was a family portrait. Ezran sat in the front and Rayla and Callum stood behind him, each with a hand on his shoulder and Bait was in his lap of course. This art piece was much better received by the glowtoad than Soren’s.

Ethari had made a simple bracelet of silver and purple braids. It was the kind of thing Rayla knew he could make easily and quickly with tools he probably borrowed. It was modest but as always the workmanship was impeccable. Ezran thought it was amazing.

Finally, it was her turn, she rolled the huge cake around the corner on a tea cart.

Ezran gasped. “Rayla it looks delicious! Give it, give it!” He reached out scrunching his fists.

She laughed as she cut him a generous piece. The purple sponge and gooey red filling looked great! She felt a little smug as she handed Ez the slice. He took a huge bite and his face scrunched, he coughed a little. Rayla felt her face fall, why did he look like that, she wondered. Then Ezran smiled and kept nodding. “Wow Rayla, it’s so… thoughtful of you to make this, wow!”

“Do you like it!?” she asked cautiously.

“Mmmmhmmmm” he continued to nod.

Everyone else cautiously sampled it, everyone started gagging.

Soren hadn’t caught on to everyone's hesitancy and took a large bite, his response felt overly dramatic “Ugh blah” He spit it directly on the ground. “That’s terrible. hack hack. I think it’s poison! I’m too young to die!”

Rayla looked hurt but then crossed her arms and scowled at her friend “Wow Soren you’re sure bein’ an arse about this. I go to all this trouble, and you can’t even be nice? It can’t be that bad.” Now she stupidly took a huge bite and was immediately filled with regret, “so salty! Egh, what did I? Water!?”. She realized Ethari had never even taken a bite of his piece, his lack of faith was added salt in the salty, salty wound.

“Rayla, it’s ok. I really appreciate it!” Ezran tried to comfort her but she had already stormed away red faced and humiliated.

Ezran found Rayla outside “That squirrel was right, you are in a tree!”.

She and her bruised ego were hiding. When she saw him she turned away “just leave me with mah shame!”

He started climbing, it took him a minute but he made it up and nudged her so he could sit next to her. Luckily it was an old sturdy tree. “I meant it when I told you I appreciated the effort.”

Rayla made a noise somewhere between a whine and a chuckle and tossed her head back “Thanks, but also I’m still sooooooo sorry”

“Seriously Rayla.” He insisted. “But you know what my real favorite present is?”

She still had her eyes up and her shoulders slumped “Hmmmm Soren’s statue was pretty good... very lifelike” her words were heavily laced with sarcasm.

“You know? I do like it” he smiled “Soren put a lot of effort into it, same as you. Want to guess again?!”

She took a moment to think “Well I know it wasn’t the fire dagger, I’m pretty sure yer afraid of it.”

He laughed “yeah, you got me there. But really, my favorite gift, is’s you Rayla.”

This time she actually righted her posture and made eye contact. “Me? What do you mean, me?” She was honestly confused.

“Yeah, you. When you guys came and told me you're getting married, it was such a good surprise. My favorite thing out of all of this is knowing in a few months you’ll really be my sister.” she felt her prickly mood soften as he continued “In a way, I’ve already thought of you like that for a long time. But now, it’s real and official! Best birthday ever!” His sincerity, something she’s always loved about him, was acting as a salve on her wounded pride.

“Oh, Ez” Rayla smiled, his sentiment was humbling and she exhaled some of her negativity “I feel the same way about you, I’m happy to have you as a brother too. Now come’ere.” She pulled him into a hug and they stayed together for a while kicking their tangling feet and talking. Catching up about all kinds of things. He told her weird stuff animals say sometimes and that he met their shadowpaws. Apparently they’re both very nice but don’t think they’re getting nearly enough fish. Rayla made a mental note. He also confided in her some of his worries. There had been rumors about underground meetings to talk about hating and not trusting elves. Now that ambassadors and scholars have started visiting Katolis, and now… her, not everyone is happy about it. Rayla thought about keeping the procession incident to herself but decided to fess up about it. He understood why she didn’t want to worry anyone but they both ended up going quiet for a bit to sit in their worry. It always broke Rayla’s heart to see these things on his shoulders, he was too young to carry so many burdens like this. So she broke the tension with a few jokes and they hugged before returning to the group for 5th dessert (dinner?).

After a few more days in Katolis it was time for everyone to part ways. It was decided that the Wedding would be in 3 months, as they wanted at the Moon Nexus. With the mages disappearing suspiciously and Aaravos and Viren’s location unknown, they had to be careful about having politically important guests all in one place. The exact date and location would be kept private and invitations would be hand-delivered along with illusion medallions to the human rulers. Lujanna would be assisted in creating a burrier hiding the Nexu, similar to the one that protects the Silvergrove.

The public announcements of the marriage would be made when things were settled. After that Rayla would be made an official Princess of Katolis. That scared her, absolutely boggled her mind. Never in her life had she thought things would turn out like this for her. The most terrifying part was the fact that until Ezran had his own heir, which at 13 was a long way off, Callum would be next in line for the throne, which would make her a queen. That thought was horrendous for a number of reasons. But for every negative or worry Rayla’s joy and excitement was tenfold.

Ethari went home to the Silvergrove and Rayla and Callum left for Lux Auria with Amaya and Janai. Callum worked on his fire spells and she helped investigate the 3 Sunfire elf mages who had disappeared. She traveled alone a few times to the Silvergrove to visit Ethari, flying on a twin tail tooth tiger, courtesy of Janai, made the trips easy. The more things came together, the details, her vows, the dress, everything felt more and more real. Soon she’d be bound forever to her best friend, and it was the most spectacular thing she could imagine. She was counting down the days, they both were.

#My Devotion and Mah Protection Our Love #rayllum fic #older rayllum #Rayllum #THE DRAGON PRINCE #Callum #Rayla #fluff #my fics #myfic #zym #Rayla is a bad cook feels like a trope whoops #there is only dessert #do a barrel role

11 notes · View notes

hushman · 5 years

Text

Curse you Pidge the Paladin

Summary:

Pidge the Paladin (known also as Agent P) is an agent for O.W.C.A. (the Organisation Without a Cool Acronym) and dedicated to helping keep the world safe. She does this by stopping the "nefarious” schemes of “Evil Genius” Lance McClain, founder of Lance McClain Evil Inc. and evil invention tester for L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. (the League Of Villainous Evildoers Maniacally United For Frightening Investments in Naughtiness). Armed with the best untested equipment L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. can supply him with, Lance will work tirelessly on his plans for global conquest, unless it's on the weekends, after 5pm or if he’s takes a personal day. Taking over the world is all fine and dandy but a good work-life balance is essential.

Rating: Everyone

Tags: Comedy, adventure,

My entry for the Plance Mini Bang over at @planceminibang

Special thank you to @oddreycharge for Beta reading this and to @perrytheplatypusgirl for making a gorgeous piece of art for this fic.

Check it here

You can read the story below or you can read it over at Archive of our Own

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19764709

Enjoy

****

Pidge, hotshot O.W.C.A. agent, arrived in her secret base in a teal smart suit, orange tie, brown fedora, and black-rimmed glasses. She sat down in her chair in front of a screen as her boss, Coran Smythe, appeared onscreen.

“Greetings, Agent P,” Coran said. “Our intelligence shows strange frequencies being transmitted from the headquarters of Lance McClain as well as “how to detect increase in bird behaviour” on his web history. Your mission is to go there and put a stop to whatever nefarious scheme he is up to. Best of luck, Agent P.”

Pidge gave a salute, climbed into her jet-powered hover car, and flew off just as her theme song was starting.

Dooby dooby doo-bah Dooby dooby doo-bah Dooby dooby doo-bah Dooby dooby doo-bah Pidge!

She's a computer savvy, tech loving lady of action! (Dooby dooby doo-bah) (Dooby dooby doo-bah) She's a scrappy young hacker, Who'll never flinch from a fray-ee-ay-ee-ay!

She's got more than just all that, Fe(Wah-ah-ah) She's got a snazzy suit and a hat, Fe(ah-ah) And the men all swoon whenever they hear her sa-a-a-ay

“Hold up, who said anything about swooning?”

She’s Pidge, Pidge the Paladin But you can call her Agent P. Pidge! I said you can call her Agent P! A-gent-P!

A short flight later, she arrived at Lance McClain Evil Incorporated by crashing through a skylight.

Waiting for her was Lance McClain in a lab coat and holding a remote.

“Ah, Pidge the Paladin, what an unexpected surprise,” Lance commented. “And by that I mean entirely expected!”

Lance pushed a button. A massive pole popped behind Pidge. Before she could react, a stream of bola flew in, tying her to the pole.

“It appears you have fallen for my cunning trap.”

“Cunning trap?” Pidge deadpanned. “This is the third time you've tried to use this thing. You even marked out on the floor where you wanted me to stand.”

“And yet, you fell for it,” Lance crowed in rebuttal.

Pidge gave as much of a shrug as her restraints allowed. “I wanted to see if you had fixed the aim on the bola launchers.”

Lance pursed his lips. “Fine, act all high and mighty tied to that pole while I enact my evil scheme.”

“And by “enact”, you mean tell some backstory to justify whatever hairbrained scheme and device you have today.”

Lance ignored this jab as he introduced his latest “tragic backstory”.

“You see, it harkens back to my miserable youth spent in my cold and unforgiving fatherland.”

“You grew up in Cuba.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Lance snapped back before continuing. "My siblings have always despised me."

"Just last week, you said Veronica was wrapped around your little finger and loved you with all her heart."

"That was last week,” Lance dismissed. “As I was saying, I was left to face the endless shame and ridicule from my elder siblings. But no more! Finally, they shall learn true terror with this: the Fowlagitationinator!”

Lance flung his arms flamboyantly towards the glorified satellite dish.

“So what exactly does it do?” Pidge asked.

“I am so very glad you asked.” Lance paused briefly as he failed to discreetly pull back his sleeve notes. “This device will emit a frequency that will increase the aggression in every bird within the city.” He read monotonously, “All urban activities will grind to a halt as everyone is terrorised by millions of feathery foes, leaving the city ripe for the taking.” His voice and arms pitched in confidence, dropping his speaker notes in the process.

“Millions?” Pidge raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re overestimating the city’s bird population.”

“I was going for dramatic effect.” Lance let out a groan. “Look, you’re here to thwart my schemes, not criticise them.”

“Fair enough,” Pidge conceded. “Speaking of thwart...”

At that moment, the restraints fell off her body.

“So, did it actually take you this long to escape, or were you waiting for me to finish talking?”

“Didn’t want to be rude.”

Pidge pounced at Lance with a jump kick. The man dodged with a last minute swivel, just barely missing Pidge’s boot. While the first strike had not connected, it had placed her between Lance and the device. He tried to throw a right hook at her. Pidge ducked and delivered a double palm strike to Lance’s abdomen.

“Your gut feels firmer,” Pidge commented. “Have you been working out?”

“Why yes, I have. Thank you for noti..Argh!” Lance was interrupted by Pidge flooring him with a roundhouse kick.

“Are you ever going to not fall for the compliment sucker punch?” The agent snorted.

She fell to ground with a yelp when Lance yanked one of her legs.

“It’s not a crime to appreciate it when you notice the effort I put into this body,” Lance replied as he stood up and wiped his mouth to check for blood. “Speaking of which, would you stop going for the face?”

“Sure.”

Lance managed to catch Pidge’s foot before it connected with his groin.

“Not what I meant.”

Lance flung Pidge by her leg across the room, causing her to hit the brick wall with a crash. He raced to press the large red button on the device. Pidge fired her grappling gun. The cable shot out, wrapping around Lance’s arm and pulling him back. He managed to get his arm free from his lab coat in time to bring his guard up against a furious onslaught of limbs.

What followed was a series of back-and-forth blows. While Lance had a higher endurance, Pidge was harder to hit. This continued unabated until he picked up a nearby chair. Pidge snatched a stool of her own.

Before either of them could take a swing, a ringtone interrupted the battle. Both Lance and Pidge put down the chairs.

“Is that your phone or mine?” Lance asked.

“Yours,” Pidge replied. “I changed my ringtone last week.”

“Huh.” Lance checked his phone. “It’s my brother. I’d better take this.”

Pidge nodded her consent as Lance answered the phone.

“Hey Luis, how’s it going?...Not too bad. Same old, same old...Yeah, she’s here to thwart my scheme...Nah, it’s fine, what’s up? Sure I can watch them tonight...not a problem at all...You’ll be here at 7? Yeah, that's fine.” Lance looked up and saw Pidge pointing to her watch. “Listen I’d better get back to work but I’ll see you tonight...Love you too.”

Lance hung up and put away the phone.

“Thanks for that, so do you want go back to chairs?”

“Nah, the moment’s gone.”

“Fair enough.”

Pidge proceeded to duck and perform a leg sweep, causing Lance to fall to the ground. As he picked himself up, Pidge raced over to the device. She pushed the self-destruct button and pulled out her grappling gun. She fired out a line, yanking herself through the skylight as the device exploded.

“CURSE YOU, PIDGE THE PALADIN!” Lance yelled.

Once he was certain was alone, he picked up a broom and started cleaning up the debris.

“You know, just once, it would be nice for her to stick around to help with the clean up.”

****

Lance had just finished sending his report to head office when the doorbell rang. He opened the door and was tackled by two blurs of energy.

“Come on you two, don’t break Uncle Lance within the first two minutes.”

“Hey, I can take it,” Lance laughed. “How about you both pick a game on the gameflux?”

At that sentence, the two raced off to where the gameflux was set up.

“I swear that thing is 90% of the reason they like me babysitting,” Lance commented.

“Well, that and the fact you usually offer pizza,” Luis said. “So you okay? You’re developing a bit of a bruise.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lance replied. “The agent O.W.C.A. assigned to me just got a lucky hit in.”

“The compliment sucker punch?” Luis asked.

“Gets me every time.”

“You know, man, you really need to see about getting out of that franchise.”

“Eh…” Lance gave a non-committal shrug. “It’s not that bad. Besides, we both know it takes three million dollars to buy out of the place before the two years are up. I got into this mess. I can take the lumps to wait it out.”

“Just promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“Trust me it’s fine. Sure, that woman kicks my butt on a regular basis, but at least we’re keeping things professional.”

Luis rolled his eyes. “Only you would consider being punched in the face as professional.”

“Well, it kinda is her job to punch me in the face since I am technically trying to take over the city slash country slash world.”

“That sounds like the best job in the world.”

“Love you too, bro.”

With a quick hug, Luis left. 20 minutes after watching his niece and nephew screech at each other in Combat Cousins X, Lance heard the doorbell.

He answered the door. Standing there was Katie Holt, holding a couple of pizza boxes.

“Battle supplies as requested,” she said with a wink.

“Thanks, Katie. You're a lifesaver.”

“Oh please, considering the stuff I’ve seen you survive, you’re practically immortal,” Katie replied flippantly.

Lance scowled at her suspiciously. “What exactly have you seen me survive?”

“For starters, Charlene LeManche.”

“Objection withdrawn.”

Katie’s watch started vibrating.

“Excuse me.”

She stepped out onto the balcony. Satisfied that Lance had given her privacy, she activated her watch to see an image of Coran.

“Hope I’m not bothering, Agent P,” Coran said. “I just wanted to congratulate you another job well done.”

“Thanks, Coran. Though if you don’t mind, I’d better head back inside. Secret identity to maintain and all that.”

“Of course. Have a good night, Agent P.”

Katie hung up on Coran and went back inside. Tomorrow, she would probably be kicking Lance’s butt again, but she was perfectly satisfied with beating him at Pancake Dojo 2 whilst enjoying a slice of pepperoni pizza tonight.

****

It was Tuesday morning. Lance had finished his breakfast and was savouring the first sip of coffee. The blissful start was interrupted by the doorbell. He answered the door to find several men with crates.

“Morning, guys,” Lance said as he stepped aside to let the movers in.

After everything was moved into the open space “Evil Lair” area, Lance got to work opening first crate.

“Alright, let’s see what L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. cooked up for me today.”

Lance pulled out a letter from his superior. The latest device was something called the Vapourmatroninator. Apparently, there was a little extra assembly required.

After all the other crates were opened, Lance realised that that by “a little extra assembly”, they meant that this assemble would be bigger than a minivan, yet not a single piece was bigger than the palm of his hand.

“No worries. So long as the instructions are clear, I’ll just work through it piece by piece.”

Not only were the instructions incomprehensible, Lance wasn’t even sure that it was in English. After an hour of failing to make any headway, he picked up his phone.

“Hey Hunk, I need some help with building the latest world conquest machine… I know what I’m doing. It’s these instructions that make no sense...Look, can you come help me without making fun of me?...Alright, but can you still come or not?...Thanks, Hunk. You’re the best.”

****

Pidge kicked open the door to Lance McClain Evil Inc. at 4 p.m. on the dot.

She was ready to get her thwart on when she saw Hunk working on the device. He looked up to see Pidge standing there.

“Katie? What are you doing here?” Hunk asked. “And what are you wearing?”

Before Pidge could answer, Lance walked in.

“Hi Pidge, sorry I’m running a little behind so I had to call in some help.”

“Wait, this is Pidge?” Hunk asked in disbelief.

“Oh right, where are my manners?” Lance said. “Hunk, this is my nemesis Pidge. Pidge, this is my friend Hunk.”

“This is Pidge?” Hunk asked again. “As in the person that thwarts your plans daily.”

“Well, it's more of a Monday to Friday basis, gotta keep that work life balance, but yes. That’s her.” Lance answered “What’s your point?”

“Lance, that’s...argh!”

Hunk was interrupted by Pidge grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back.

“Shut up,” Pidge hissed to Hunk. “Play along and I’ll explain everything later.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, Pidge! Let him go this instant!” Lance scolded.

Pidge complied.

“Hunk doesn’t work for L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. He's just helping me out as a favour. Do whatever you want with me, but I will not have you attacking my friends!”

Pidge looked genuinely remorseful as Lance took out some money and handed it to her.

“Now you are going to say sorry to Hunk, and then you’re going to go the donut shop and pick up a dozen lemon cream-filled donuts with passionfruit sprinkles. When you get back, he should be done with the Inator and then you can thwart me.”

Pidge complied, sending Hunk one last pleading looking before heading out the door.

“Sorry about that,” Lance said to Hunk. “She honestly isn’t that bad, she’s just a little wound up at times.”

Hunk eyed Lance with utter astonishment.

“And she doesn’t remind you of anyone?” He pressed.

Lance paused thoughtfully.

“Now that you mention it, with that fedora, she kinda looks like Indiana Jones.”

“You think she looks like Indiana Jones?” Hunk asked, clearly not sure how to react.

“Kinda.”

“So when are you next due for an eye exam?”

“Next year, I think. Why?”

“Might want to move that forward.”

****

Pidge arrived with the donuts just as Hunk finished assembling the Inator. She handed them over Hunk he packed up his tools.

“Well, I better be out of your way,” he declared as he headed for the door with tools and donuts in tow.

“Leaving so soon?” Lance asked.

“Yeah, as much fun as it would be to watch you getting thwarted, I’d rather not watch the device I worked so hard on get destroyed.”

“Fair enough, catch ya later.”

Hunk shot Pidge a meaningful glance before leaving.

He hopped in the elevator and waited for the ding signalling the ground floor. Just as he exited the building, the Vapourmatroninator crashed onto the sidewalk, inches from his ears.

He could faintly hear Lance yell, “CURSE YOU, PIDGE THE PALADIN!”

****

A while later, Hunk and Pidge, in her civilian attire, were at Hunk’s favourite sandwich place. Only after he was halfway through his sandwich was he ready to address the elephant in the room.

“Alright, Katie, tell me what the heck is going on.”

“Okay.” Pidge took in a deep breath. “You remember that internship I took with a think tank? Well, that think tank is a secret government agency, and that internship is more of a field agent position.”

“So, who do you work for? The CIA?”

“No, I work for O.W.C.A., the Organisation Without a Cool Acronym.” Pidge watched Hunk raise an eyebrow. “Look, the name isn’t great, but they do good work.”

“And why exactly are you kicking Lance’s butt on a daily basis?”

“When Lance signed on to an employment contract with L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. that marked him as an ‘evil genius’, O.W.C.A. protocol is to assign an agent to be a nemesis to every evil genius. This was my first nemesis assignment, so the higher ups wanted to assign me to something lighter to chew on.”

“And the fact that you and Lance being friends isn’t against policy?”

“It would be if Lance recognised me,” Pidge explained. “I would get reassigned and he would get a new nemesis. I’ve been busting his scheme for nearly a year, and I thank whatever miracle that he still hasn’t worked out that I’m his nemesis.”

“How can he not know? All you do is put on a hat and glasses. You don’t even change your voice!”

“Look, are we really going to debate Lance’s intelligence? He has some strong suits, but he signed on to an evil organisation because their name was L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. And it took three weeks of being friends with him before he realised I was a girl.”

“To be fair, we were 12 at the time, but I see your point,” Hunk conceded. “But why stay as Lance’s nemesis? Franchise or not, you know Lance isn’t evil. Wouldn’t you rather spend your time taking down real bad guys?”

“Three reasons,” Pidge explained. “First, if I don’t do it, O.W.C.A. will send someone else, someone who will actually think he's evil. Second, Lance has been a surprisingly useful asset in undermining L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N.

Any tech that fails with Lance tends to get scrapped, so stopping Lance also prevents some of the actually dangerous tech from being used by actual evil geniuses.”

“And the third?”

“Being Lance’s nemesis means that my work day is usually done by 5 and I get weekends off. Nothing wrong with appreciating a good work/life balance.”

Hunk rolled his eyes at this. “Alright, so what happens now?”

“Well it’s up to you,” Pidge explained. “Standard procedure would be to take you in to have your memory erased.”

Hunk choked on a piece of sandwich. A long sip of his drink helped him to speak again.

“Erase my memory?”

“Just the events of today,” Pidge assured him. “But if you promised to keep this secret under wraps I could conveniently forget the part where you recognised me when I file my report.”

Hunk deliberated for a moment. “Alright, I don’t like keeping this from Lance, but I’m not risking forgetting my great aunt’s banoffee pie recipe over this.”

“Thanks Hunk,” Pidge said gratefully.

“Though if you ask me, the real reason you like this gig is because you get to spend all your time with Lance.” Hunk emphasised his statement with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

Pidge glared at Hunk. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“That wasn’t a no,” Hunk singsonged.

Pidge was about to respond only to let out a cough.

“You alright?”

“It’s nothing,” Pidge replied.

****

Wednesday morning was somewhat easier for Lance. The day’s Inator came in mostly assembled. So now all he had to do was wait for Pidge to arrive.

An hour later still had no Pidge. He was starting to worry. Just then, his phone rang. He answered for only to have his ear fill with the noise of hacking.

“Hey Lance,” Katie said in between coughs. “Sorry I can't make game night.”

“Jeez Katie, you don’t sound good.”

“It’s fine, just gotta rest up and I’ll recover soon.” She let out more coughs.

After hanging up with his friend, Lance felt conflicting emotions swirling in his chest. He really wanted to check on Katie, but he was also meant to be trying to take over the city in time to get thwarted.

It certainly was a dilemma.

****

Allura the Altruist was on her way home from stopping her nemesis when she got a call from Coran.

“Great work, Agent A. Though would you stopping by Lance McClain Evil Inc? Agent P is not feeling well.”

“Right away, Coran.”

Flying her car over to Lance’s evil lair, she parked her car on the roof and dropped elegantly through the sky light, ready to battle. To her surprise, the lair was completely abandoned. She then noticed a large device in plain sight with a note attached.

Dear Pidge,

Sorry I can’t be there. Had to go check on a sick friend. I’ve marked out the self destruct button. See you tomorrow.

Lance McClain

P.S. Curse you, Pidge the Paladin!

Against her better judgement, Allura pressed the marked out button. As she left the ruins of the lair, she couldn’t help but wonder if O.W.C.A should reassess Lance’s threat level.

****

“Here you are, Katie,” Lance said as he carried in a steaming bowl of soup.

“Thank you,” the sick girl wheezed as she took the soup. “You didn’t have to come over to take care of me. Don’t you have work?”

“It's all good,” Lance said dismissively. “I’ve got it covered. Besides, I wouldn’t leave you hanging.”

Katie blushed. If asked, she would claim it was fever.

****

On Thursday, a recovered Pidge arrived at Lance McClain Evil Incorporated, refreshed and ready for a day of thwarting. She flew in through an open window. As she arrived in the lair, she realised Lance wasn’t there.

“Er...hello?”

“Pidge! I’ll be right there,” Lance called out before coughing.

A dishevelled and ill-looking Lance stepped into the lair. He was still in his pyjamas and his lab coat was crooked.

“What a...an unexpected sur…” Lance started coughing again. “Sorry, think I might’ve caught something from my friend.”

Pidge looked at Lance in dismay. “You should be in bed,” she scolded.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Lance insisted. “So, behold my… achoo!.... Latest invention the...Something...inator!”

Lance gestured towards a crate that was barely even opened.

“With this I...shall take over the...world.” Lance’s half-hearted speech was shot through with more coughing.

“Lance, seriously, go to bed. I can come back and stop you tomorrow.”

“No, I flaked on you yesterday. I’m not going to do it twice.” Lance raised his fists, staggering slightly as he fought to keep balance. “Thwart me if you dare.”

Rather than fight, Pidge took hold of his hand and dragged him to the kitchen. She pushed him into a chair and silently heated up a can of chicken soup. She plopped the bowl in front of him and said, “Eat.” After making him eat all of it, she hauled him to his bedroom. She took off his lab coat and pushed him into his bed.

“There,” she quipped as she draped a blanket over him. “I’ve thwarted you. Now get some rest.”

“Curse you Pidge the...zzzzz,” Lance was asleep before he was even able to finish his sentence.

Not too long after, Katie arrived to check up on Lance.

****

Friday came as Pidge arrived at the hideout.

“Ah Pidge the Paladin, so nice to see you,” Lance greeted. “Sorry about dropping the ball the last couple of days. Still, I promise to make up for it as I unleash my TRINITY OF TERROR!”

There was a dramatic orchestra and flashes of lightning.

“Head office finally approved your effects budget?” PIdge asked.

“Why yes, thank you for noticing. Anyhoo, behold! The Degravitinator!” Lance held out a handheld, ray-gun-looking device. “Capable of disrupting the personal gravity of its victims. Behold the Plantinator!” He gestured towards a device with a large antenna. “Capable of sending out a pulse that will cause all the plants in the city area to grow at an uncontrollable rate. And finally the DX7J.” He pointed to a large cubic machine. “Capable of...something equally evil, I guess.” He noticed Pidge’s raising eyebrow. “Cut me some slack, not only did I have to finish building yesterday’s device, head office sent me two inators instead of one today. It's a miracle I know what the first two do.”

“And you had time to set up the special effects?”

“Look, are we going to fight or waste time criticizing my workplace priorities?”

Lance jumped back just in time to dodge a right hook from Pidge. He aimed the ray gun at Pidge and fired. Pidge jumped out of the way, narrowing missing the purple ray that shot out. The ray instead hit a nearby couch. It glowed purple as it started to float. Lance continued firing at Pidge. The agent kept ducking until a desk, several crates and a metal barrel were floating.

“Darn it!” Lance muttered. “Why didn’t they put a decent sight on this thing?”

Pidge leapt onto a floating crate, hoping to get high ground. She leapt to another crate to avoid the ray. She finally lunged at Lance with a flying kick. The kick hit Lance squarely in the chest before he could let out another shot. He fell back to the ground and accidentally pulled the trigger.

A purple beam shot out and hit the Plantinator. The Inator started to float in the air. Seeing her opportunity, Pidge kicked with all her might. It flew out the open balcony door. It then came to a rest between the two buildings.

Both Lance and Pidge stared at the floating Inator.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure I was expecting,” Pidge admitted.

“Well, we can’t leave that out there,” Lance said. “Eventually, the ray will wear off, and it'll fall onto incoming traffic. I already got a citation for what happened with the Vapourmatroninator. I don’t need another.”

“Fair enough, any ideas?”

“Do you have your grappling gun?”

“In shop getting a tune up. You?”

“The winch on mine broke and I’m still waiting for the replacement to arrive. How about your hover car?”

“Came here on the moped today.”

“Fair enough.”

Lance turned a dial on the ray gun and aimed it at the floating Inator. He fired a red ray that vapourised the floating inator.

“That thing has a disintegrator setting?” Pidge asked in shock.

“Yeah, you really think that would be the main feature of this thing.”

“If it could do that, then why were you bothering with the gravity setting?”

“I’m not firing a disintegrator ray in my own lair,” Lance said indignantly.

“That’s surprisingly responsible of you.”

“Thank you.”

“Still got to destroy it.”

“Fair enough,” Lance replied as he turned the ray gun back to gravity mode.

Lance spun round, firing the ray gun at Pidge. Pidge dropped and sweeped out Lance’s legs, causing him fall flat on his back. “Nice move,” Lance said, winded but clearly impressed.

“Thanks.”

Pidge picked up the nearby raygun and smashed it against the handrail. She then started to head back inside to deal with the DX7J only for Lance to snatch her foot, tripping her up.

Lance scurried to place himself between Pidge and the DX7J.

What followed was another fist fight. Lance was holding his own until Pidge hit him with kick to the gut, knocking him backwards.

Lance bumped into the DX7J, turning it on. Sounds of moving parts and sloshing liquid echoed in the machine. Shortly afterwards, there was a loud ding and a small hatch on the device opened to reveal a cup of steaming liquid.

Curious, Lance picked up the cup and sniffed it. He then proceeded to take a sip, much to the panic of Pidge.

“False alarm,” Lance said. “This isn’t an Inator. It’s the coffee machine I ordered.”

“You ordered a coffee machine?”

“Yeah, and not just any coffee machine. This is top of the line, does everything from expressos to cappuccinos.”

“That sounds pricey.”

“I charged it to the head office,” Lance replied. “They’re an evil organisation trying to take over the world - the least they can do is fuel my caffeine addiction.” He proceeded to take another sip from his coffee.

Pidge nodded; she couldn’t really fault the logic.

“Wait, does that mean I already thwarted you?” She questioned.

Lance paused his drinking.

“Huh...I guess so...Oh well. CURSE YOU, PIDGE THE PALADIN!” He hollered before returning to his normal tone. “Do you want a coffee for the road? I’ve got a travel mug I can lend you.”

“Can that machine do a Chai Latte?”

Lance scoffed. “Do you honestly think I would charge my boss top dollar for a coffee machine that couldn’t do Chai Lattes?”

****

“So glad we managed to switch game night,” Lance said as he brought in a bowl of chips.

“I’m just glad neither of us are mucus factories anymore,” Pidge commented.

“I’m just glad I didn’t catch it,” Hunk commented. “So care to explain how all that stuff is floating?”

“Today’s evil invention was an antigravity ray.”

“Antigravity ray?” Hunk repeated in surprise. “How does that work?”

“I aimed the ray gun, pulled the trigger and then whatever got zapped with it would start floating.”

“No, I mean…” Hunk paused as the realisation of who he was talking to struck. “Nevermind.”

“I don’t get what the end game was,” Pidge commented “As cool as it is, I just don’t get how your bosses expected you to take over the world with an antigravity ray.”

“They don’t really look at how so much as they just throw whatever random idea that comes to them at me and wait to see what happens.” Lance explained. “I’m still not sure how I was supposed to take over the world with an iguana cannon.”

“Buddy, you really need to get out of this gig,” Hunk affirmed.

“Would love to, but we all know that’s not going to happen until my contract expires. Besides it's not so bad. I set my own hours, I don’t pay rent on this place and I now have a coffee machine. Speaking of coffee, you guys want one? It's pretty good.”

“I’m good,” Hunk said.

“Chai Latte, please,” Pidge requested absentmindedly.

Lance paused and stared at Pidge suspiciously.

“How do you know it can do Chai Lattes?”

“Would you honestly invest in a coffee machine that couldn’t do Chai Lattes?”

Lance let out a laugh.

“You got me there. One Chai Latte coming up."

As Lance went over to the coffee machine, Hunk turned to Pidge.

“You know, eventually, he is going to figure it out.”

“Agree to disagree,” Pidge replied as she watched Lance come back with her latte.

Lance handed to the latte to her. As she took a sip, Lance spoke.

“So guys, I’ve been wondering. Should I invite Pidge to join us for games night?”

PIdge did a spit take.

“Sorry,” she sputtered. “It’s a little hot.”

Hunk kept his composure.

“You want to invite the person whose job is to kick your butt on a daily basis to games night?”

“Alright firstly, I can hold my own just fine.”

“Have you ever stopped her from destroying your stuff?”

“Well, no, but that’s not the point,” Lance argued. “Neither of us take the whole thwarting thing personally, and she’s the closest thing I have to a work colleague that I actually like.”

“You like her?” Pidge asked, not really sure how to process this.

“Well sure, she’s skilled, self assured, witty and honestly kind of a badass,” Lance replied.

“She also wails on you almost every time you face off,” Hunk added.

“No one’s perfect,” Lance replied. “Come on, what could it hurt to ask her? If she says yes, it will be a chance to get to know her better.”

“If you feel so strongly, I think you should do it,” Pidge replied.

“What?” Hunk said in dismay.

“Great, next time I see her I’ll ask,” He looked down and realised his hands were empty. “Whoops, forgot my coffee.”

As he went to get it, Hunk turned back to Pidge.

“I know this week has been full of shocking revelations, but how do you plan to be two places at once?”

“I won’t have to,” Pidge replied. “I’ll simply say that O.W.C.A. forbids me from fraternising with supervillains outside of work.”

“You know that’s only going to be a temporary fix.”

“It will do for now,” Pidge replied. “I’ll cross that bridge when I reach it.”

“Yup,” Hunk replied. “Keep telling yourself that.”

#plance #plance au #plance mini bang #Lance #Pidge #Hunk #phineas and ferb #Lance being lance #bless him he is trying #flirtyrobot #Evil Genius Lance #Secret Agent Pidge

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ncisjes · 5 years

Text

One Last Time

PAIRING: TIVA

Rating: A really light M. It’s in there but you can skip if you want.

FF.net

The door swings wide as the room key flies across the air, sliding across the table, and eventually somersaulting to the floor.

What a day.

Attempting to multitask, Tony feels out the lamp on the side table and somehow manages to turn it on without knocking it over while removing his suit jacket. He really did not understand the need to get dressed up and go to dinner, but Senior insisted they needed to break the monotony of eating room service every day. Even though the exhaustion from the past two weeks was starting to really wear on him, Tony reluctantly agreed to go out and have an authentic Italian meal.

Tali looked beautiful in the velvet maroon dress they had bought for her earlier that day. It was all smiles and giggles as she made art with her spaghetti. A handful of noodles in each palm, she decorated the table, the floor, Tony’s face, and even the waiter’s jacket with red sauce and pasta.

If Ziva were only here to see this.

Tony was grateful that Senior had agreed to keep Tali in his room for the night to allow Tony to get some much-needed rest. After a bath, singing lullabies, and tucking in Tali with her keh’lev, he walked mindlessly to his suite down the hall.

The nights were the worst for him. Only when Tali had drifted off to sleep would he allow himself to break his playful dad demeanor and let his mind race and wander to Ziva. At first, he felt lucky if he was able to sleep, but the dreams of her seemed to be even more encompassing than his thoughts. No matter how many times he thought or heard or said she was gone, it still felt like a knife to the heart each time.

Letting out a sigh, he began unbuttoning his shirt when suddenly the air thickened and every hair on his body stood at attention. Someone was watching him from behind. Before he could turn around to see who it was, a hand clasped over his mouth in a vice like grip and another forced a dagger against his throat. Reaching for the SIG he no longer carried, Tony quickly scanned the room for an object to use as a weapon. Warm air caressed his neck as his assailant began to speak.

“When I let you go, please try to keep your voice down.”

His whole body goes rigid at these words. He feels the release of the knife first and then his mouth, and for a moment he can’t bring himself to turn around.

Could it be?

Their eyes lock when he turns to face her. Time stops, and every emotion he has been burying the past few days washes over him. He can’t move. He can’t speak. He can’t breathe. His mind is racing with thoughts, but he can’t quite seem to grasp them. It’s almost as if he is waiting for her to disappear again; for this all to be an illusion. Slowly shutting his eyes, Tony takes a deep exhale knowing this moment will be over as soon as his eyes open. When she is still standing there, his mouth seems to move on its own.

“Ziva…” he whispers.

She gives him a small but begrudging smile before responding, “Hello, Tony.”.

They stand in silence for a few moments more as Tony is still in disbelief that this is happening. It really doesn’t seem real until Ziva asks, “Where is Tali?”

She already knows the answer.

His eyes study her as he responds. “She’s down the hall. With Senior.”

Ziva’s face falls a little as she wrings her hands.

“I wanted to see her, but perhaps it is better this way.” She lets out a weak smile, knowing that this request was more selfish than beneficial.

“Look, Tony, I know I have a lot of explaining to do…” She starts to say as she makes her way towards him.

Tony doesn’t let her finish. In a flash, he closes the gap between them and wraps himself around her. Their lips meet as he pulls her entire body against him. His hands entangle themselves in her wild curly hair. Ziva responds by enclosing her arms around his torso. The kiss is filled with so much fervor that it is almost painful.

Wanting to feel every inch of her, Tony’s lips skate across Ziva’s jawline to her neck, then just below her ear making Ziva moan. Continuing his amorous assault, he kisses her neck down to her chest to the cup of her bra before removing it along with her shirt. He begins to move them toward the bed, undoing the button and zipper on her pants in the process. Ziva finishes the job of unbuttoning Tony’s shirt, and quickly shucks it off before pulling his white undershirt over his head. Pushing her back on the bed, Tony yanks Ziva’s pants off, taking her panties with them, and deposits them haphazardly on the floor. Making quick work of his belt, button, and zipper, he drops his pants and boxers. Giving a swift kiss to her center, he slides into her waiting heat.

Staring down at her naked body bathed in moonlight, her hair splayed across the sheets, Tony begins to slowly thrust. Their eyes lock once again, saying everything they verbally can’t express. Ziva wraps her legs around his waist and lifts her hips to meet him. It doesn’t take long for them both to tumble over the edge. Tony collapses on top of her, breathing in the scent of her hair. Ziva wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly, never wanting to let him go. They lie there silent for a few moments, skin pressed against skin, matching each other’s breathing.

The air seems to change as Tony withdraws and rolls over beside her. They both stare at the ceiling. The tension is palpable in their silence.

“You could have told me.” Tony says before he stands, squatting to pull up his pants. He walks across the room to retrieve his shirt.

Sitting up on her elbows, Ziva watches him move around the room, confusion etched across her face. They are going to do this now? She knew it was coming, but she expected things to go in a completely different order.

“I know.” She whispers, not making eye contact. Her demeanor showed her remorse.

“You know?” Tony asks in disbelief.

Feeling vulnerable laying naked before him, Ziva gets up and quickly dresses. Running a hand through her wild hair, she finally meets his eyes, seeing the anger in them. She takes a deep breath before beginning.

“I know you must be upset Tony. I know the past few weeks must have been difficult with everything that was shoved onto your plate. That is why I came here. I believe I owe you an explanation.”

“An explanation?” He scoffs. “You kept our daughter from me for two and half years. You apparently faked your own death and sent her to me without even a phone call. It better be one hell of an explanation, Ziva.”

“Tony please. Keep your voice down.” She pleads with him. “’Faking my own death’ as you put it, was not my doing. There was an opportunity, and we had to take it. Of course, I did not want you to find out this way. If Orli knew I was here…”

“This is all her doing then? Did she tell you to keep Tali from me as well?” He seethes.

“No, the opposite actually. Not telling you was my choice.” Her face falls again, wringing her hands to control her emotions.

“Why Ziva, why wouldn’t you tell me?” Tony questions exasperated at this point.

“Because I did not know how!” It was her turn to yell. She begins to pace the room. “What was I supposed to do, call you up and say, ‘Hey Tony, I know that I said wanted time to figure things out on my own, but I am pregnant, and I need you?’ That is not me!”

“You’re right. It’s not, but I had the right to know you were carrying our child!” He shouts back. Her stubbornness breaks as she turns away from him.

“You do not understand.” She whispers. Tony begins to ask her what he doesn’t understand, but she holds her hand up to silence him. “When I found out I was pregnant with Tali, I was still dealing with everything. Leaving NCIS, the pain and hurt I had caused people, letting you go. I still was not alright, and when you went back to DC everything just seemed to go back to normal for you. You got a new team member who seemed to mesh seamlessly. You were dating. It felt like your life picked up without me right where you left off. I did not want to take you away from that.”

“That wasn’t your choice-” He starts, but she silences him once again.

“I know that, but I also knew what I needed to do in order to feel safe and secure with my child. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be a mother Tony, but when I found out I was pregnant I knew I did not want her to have the same childhood as I did. Never knowing when, or if, Abba would come home. Not being able to interact with him when he was home because he was either still working or too stressed and tired. Missing school because there was a threat against him which put my entire family in danger. I did not want that for our daughter, Tony.”

“I would have given it up in a second if that is what you wanted.” He responds, the contempt in voice beginning to fade.

“Would you? Think about it, Tony. If I had returned to U.S. and stayed home with Tali, would you really have left N.C.I.S?”

Tony knows she’s right. He wouldn’t have.

“And even if you did, you would resent me for making you leave the job you love. You needed to make that decision on your own, the same way I did.”

“You are probably right, but even so that did not give you the right to keep her from me.” He crosses his arms and turns away.

“You are right. It is a decision I shall regret to the end of my days.” She says softly, her eyes filling with tears.

The silence falls between them again as Tony stares out the window at the rain and thunder that color the evening sky. Ziva stands rooted in her spot, waiting for him to speak.

“So what now? You’re off to save the world on some secret Mossad mission and you need me to take care of her?” He questions with disdain.

Thrown completely off guard by his question, Ziva’s face contorts with confusion. “What?” Is all she can muster before her fury sets in. “Is that what you think? That I sent you Tali for some mission?”

“I don’t know what to believe.” He says curtly when he turns to face her. “Hell, a few hours ago I thought you were dead. A few weeks ago, I didn’t think I was a father. A few months ago, I thought you were in Israel still trying to find yourself, but boy was I wrong! So, excuse me Ziva, if I really don’t know what I believe right now!”

He turns to stare out the window once more. Staring down at her hands, Ziva begins to wring them together in another attempt to reign in her emotions. After a few steadying breaths, she begins to tread lightly towards him. She stares at his profile from behind, committing it to memory as she had done so many times in the past, before enveloping him in a huge hug from behind. Tony tenses for a moment, expecting some form of pain as Ziva usually resorted to when she really needed him to listen. When all he felt was the warmth of her body pressed against his, he allowed his arms to overlap hers, his palms holding her in place.

“I cannot change the past Tony.” She croons softly in his ear, when suddenly the air shifts once more. Tony turns and wraps his arms around her and pulls her tightly against him.

“I thought I lost you.” He whispers to her, his voice breaking. His hands tangle themselves in her hair once more as the soft tears fall from his eyes. He kisses her chastely, and Ziva feels the wetness on her lips.

“I know.” She whispers to him, their foreheads pressed longingly together.

“I came looking for you.” He says firmly.

“I know.” She allows herself to smile and laugh. “Eshel told me. He said you vowed to search every end of the earth until you knew I was longer on it.”

“I did. I may have been inebriated at the time, but deep down I didn’t really believe you were dead. Just didn’t feel right. No body, no crime. I had planned to keep looking for you until…” His voice began to trail.

“Until? You decided to stop looking for me?” She pulled away to study his face.

“I would have spent the rest of my life searching if it meant one day I would find you, but Senior said something to me, and it just made sense.”

A small pain stabbed her heart at Seniors dismissal, but she wanted to know what prompted this, so she asked, “And what did Antonio DiNozzo, Senior, say to persuade you?”

“He reminded me of how it was when my mom passed, and while he didn’t literally look for her, he looked for in every figurative sense of the word. Alcohol. Drugs. Sex. Women. Money. It wasn’t until he stopped looking, stopped trying to fill that void, that he was able to heal, and in turn I was able to start to heal.”

Ziva stared into his emerald eyes. She had seen them so many times before, but now they carried a little more pain and a little less sparkle.

“I didn’t want that for Tali, so after doing some soul searching and losing it for a little while, I decided to let my desire to find you die in Israel. To leave your memory in peace.”

Ziva stared down at the floor, not realizing the emotions her death would bring about in her own inner being. Tears begin to fall down her cheeks as Tony cupped her chin.

“Hey,” he calls, breaking her from her reverie while he thumbs her cheek back and forth. “It didn’t work. Even here I still look for around every corner. I don’t think I would have ever stopped looking Ziva, not really.”

“I know.” She laughs once more. Looking up at Tony as he brushes her tears away, she begins to tell him the real reason for her visit. “I knew you would never stop looking, which is why I knew I had to come see you.”

Tony’s eyes bored into hers as he stood up a little straighter, realizing this was important.

“When I did my soul searching after my father’s death, I went to apologize to people to I had hurt in my time at Mossad as I had told you the last time we saw each other. It was in doing this, that I made my presence known to people who thought I was dead. People who wanted to hurt me because I had hurt them. By trying to right my wrongs, I instead put a target on my back, and possibly yours and Tali’s as well. When I realized I was pregnant, I stopped making these pilgrimages and focused solely on my health and well being for the baby. Tali was about 18 months old when Orli began to get word that someone was looking for me.”

“Who was it?” Tony questioned.

“I do not know.” Ziva responded shortly.

“Well, where are they?” He continued.

“I do not know that either.”

“Well we have to tell Gibbs, and Abby and McGee can help too and-” Ziva cut him off by placing her hand over his moth before he could continue.

“Tony, that is what I am here to tell you. I do not want anyone’s help. I brought this upon myself and I will finish it myself. Your help is not necessary.”

“Ziva you are not going to do this alone, how many times do I have to tell you, you are not alone in-”

“TONY!” Ziva yells, cutting him off for the final time. “I know that I am not all in this world, but my world consists of people I love and I would like to keep it that way! If I wanted to put Tali in danger I would have kept her with me!”

The lightning strikes and it is almost as if it illuminates the lightbulb in Tony’s brain. Tali. How would they protect Tali? He quickly scans through the people in their lives that he could trust to keep her safe, but no matter how many solutions he came up with, Tali would never be safe because she was the one key to hurt them both. Ziva could almost see it click in his mind on why she came to the conclusion she needed to do this on her own.

“When Orli started to hear traffic that someone was looking to kill me, she helped me dodge them by having Mossad say my whereabouts where anywhere but where I was. I was spotted all over the globe, but when they figured out that all these leads came up with dead ends, they came looking for me in Israel. Orli found out only hours before the attack was set into motion. Luckily we had a contingency plan in place.”

Tony stared at her, sensing whatever she was about to divulge was very difficult for her. “I knew it was time for me to send Tali to the one person I knew would protect her the same way, if not more, than I would… and that person was you.”

Ziva buried her face into Tony’s chest as she began to sob uncontrollably. Tony could not imagine what it was like to have to say goodbye to their daughter. He had only known her for a few weeks, and he could not fathom spending more than a day without her. He held Ziva tightly, kissing her hair and whispering to her it was okay.

“That is why I am here Tony. I need you to promise me. Promise me that you will not come looking for me. Promise me that you will keep our daughter safe. Promise me that no matter what they say they will do to me, you will protect her at all costs.

Ziva began to sob again and all Tony could do to comfort her was to repeatedly say I promise as he held her close. Rocking her back and forth gently, his own tears began to stream down his face as he realized he would be saying goodbye to her once again.

“I don’t want to lose you. Not again.” He whispered to her hair. Ziva looked up to him through bloodshot eyes and smiled a soft smile.

“You will not lose me Tony. No matter where I am, I am always with you. That is why I sent you my necklace, to give you a sign that I am still here and I am still fighting, for us.”

Tony cannot help but kiss her. He cups her face as their lips touch, and he feels her breathing hitch. Grabbing her by the hips, he lifts Ziva up and she wraps her legs around his waist. He carries them back to the bedroom. Depositing her onto the bed, he climbs between her thighs and begins to kiss his way up her body. Reaching the top of her shirt, he begins to unbutton it slowly, making her watch with hesitation. Once he is done, he kisses her belly, silently wishing he had seen her pregnant. Ziva reads his mind and gives him a small sad smile, but he wipes it away with a deep kiss. They take their time with each other, teasing and tempting one another closer and closer to the edge. They make love for what seems like hours, wanting to savor every last moment together. Ziva rides him to their release, screaming Tony’s name and collapsing on his chest.

They lie there together, coming down from their highs when the air shifts one last time. The realization that she must go hits them like a ton bricks, and neither says anything in hopes that it will prolong their time with one another. Laying with her cheek pressed to his chest, Ziva begins to draw circular patterns on Tony’s left arm. His right-hand skates down to small of her back and begins to do the same. They lie there in silence enjoying the others touch, very well knowing it may be the last time they feel it.

After some time, Ziva comes to her senses and lifts her head just enough to say, “It is going to be light soon. I must get going.”

Tony instinctively wraps his arms around her to hold her in place. Even though he knew this was coming, it is still so hard to let go. “I wish you would stay.” He says softly to her hair.

“I cannot.” She says with great pain in her voice. We’ve been through this.

“I know.” He whispers.

When Ziva moves to get up, Tony lets go without hesitation. Feeling an immediate loss when he withdraws from inside of her, Ziva moves to sit at the edge of the bed for a moment. Letting out a large sigh, she begins to dress, locating each item of clothing strewn across the room. Tony follows suit, wanting to properly see her out. When they both are fully clothed, he takes Ziva between his arms and holds her. Kissing her hair, he vows to himself this will not be the last time he does this.

“Take care of our girl.” Ziva says as she looks up at him, and Tony kisses her deeply to confirm he will protect their daughter with his life.

Ziva eventually pulls away, her mission calling her to return to the safe house Eshel had set up for her. They do not exchange I love you’s or even goodbyes, because deep down they each know how the other feels and hopes this will not be the last chance to say to one another.

With her hand on the handle, Ziva takes one last look back at Tony, smiles, and says, “Hardest 180 of my life.” Before slipping through the door without a sound.

*-**-**-**-*

The next morning, Tony wakes to sunlight streaming through the windows, illuminating the room with warmth. After a quick shower he heads down the hallway to Senior’s room where Tali is playing with the blocks they bought her in Israel that have the Hebrew symbols. Senior has already ordered breakfast for the three of them and is preparing Tali’s pancakes when Tony walks through the door.

Was it all a dream?

When Senior smiles and asks, “Did you have a good night son?

Tony knows it couldn’t have been.

FIN

#NCIS #TIVA #Ziva David #Tony DiNozzo #repost because tumblr ate the original

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captainofthetidesbreath · 6 years

Note

A couple hours late but I just saw you saying how Jesse and Fareeha are more inverses of each other and I completely agree! I personally see Sombra and Jesse as more paralleled, and would be interested in hearing your thoughts on that idea? You tend to be very well-spoken and are good at analyzing concepts, I've come to notice.

EDIT - NOVEMBER 3, 2018: With the release of “Reunion” and Ashe’s hero reveal, the majority of what I wrote about Deadlock in the first three sections—Sign of the Skull, Those Left Behind, Revolutionaries and Rebels—is incorrect. Despite this, I maintain that the socioeconomic context outlines in Those Left Behind remains relevant to the American Southwest in-universe and maintain my belief that it is applicable to McCree specifically, even if it does not apply to Deadlock. I will be writing a new post on Sombra and McCree soon. Stay tuned.

in reference to this post… from months ago

Lucky for you, I was thinking about Jesse and Sombra the night before you sent this! Deadlock and Los Muertos, actually, but I’ll get to that. I absolutely agree that the two of them make much more direct parallels than Jesse and Fareeha, who are interesting as a pair in their own right but they aren’t direct parallels.

I often joke that Gabe adopted the same child twice: smart-talking, hyper-competent Latine who tote around skull logos and are from gangs with the word “dead” in their names. It’s a joke—I don’t consider Gabe’s relationship with Sombra to be that of a parent-child, for one thing—but I believe that Jesse and Sombra are very similar regardless.

They both have similar backgrounds: joined local gangs at a very young age and earned later membership into a high-level covert organization through resourcefulness and an admirable natural aptitude in a specific desired skillset. Although both at first look to be unserious and overly laid-back, they prove themselves to be precision operators who indeed execute plans and achieve goals with immense gravity. They’re both supremely confident in their abilities, to the point that one can accuse them of having too high an opinion of themselves and being overconfident.

They come from similar backgrounds, having been orphaned during the Crisis and suffered under economic disparity driven by infrastructure changes in the rebuilding period. They both similarly drop off the map and resurface under new identities. They both have a deep concern in seeing done a justice that is beyond the reach of the law—or when the law refuses to deliver it.

All this, and more, under the cut. The post is very long.

I would also like to thank @segadores-y-soldados for all he’s written, especially on Sombra and especially recently. I make heavy reference to his writing on Sombra in certain portions of this post. I also must admit that reading his posts on Arturito has motivated me to finish this after three months of slow progress, though I still have a nagging feeling I’m forgetting a point.

Sign of the Skull

To make a quick run-through on Los Muertos and Deadlock Gang themselves before moving onto how these organizations inform Sombra and Jesse specifically. Sort of a section to outline basic things about the gangs that doesn’t neatly fit into other points. It’s mostly to establish their context, and some similarities between their structures and presentation.

Screenshot from the Sombra Origin showing members of Los Muertos. Each member has painted skeletons onto themselves with phosphorescent paint in varying colors.

Los Muertos is a Mexican gang with apparent regional influence with members in both Dorado and the nearby Castillo, and it even has some international reach judging from the Los Muertos graffiti on the Hollywood map. Little is known to us about their structure besides this, and even in-universe they are noted to be mysterious with little information publicly available about them.

However, Los Muertos openly broadcasts their intentions: to right the wrongs committed by the wealthy and powerful against the disadvantaged of Mexico. They position themselves as transgressors of the law specifically to disrupt the lives of the “vipers” in power. More on that later.

The name translates to “The Dead”, and they are identified by skull motifs, specifically the calaveras associated with the Mexican holiday Day of the Dead. Individual members openly identify themselves and indicate their membership by painting skulls and bones on their bodies with phosphorescent paint.

Screenshot from the Route 66 map of five motorcycles parked in front of The High Side bar. The Deadlock emblem is spray-painted by the entrance.

Deadlock Gang is an American motorcycle club and organized crime ring occupying a Southwestern town on an abandoned stretch of Route 66 running across Deadlock Gorge. It’s unclear where exactly the Gorge is, and the Visual Source Book’s pin for the map is highly unspecific, but I tend to believe it’s in somewhere in northern New Mexico because Jesse’s base of operations is listed as Santa Fe, NM.

In one lore piece, Deadlock is holding a national rally, suggesting they’ve got chapters nationwide and the founding chapter is in Deadlock Gorge. While it’s unclear what their reach is, there is a possibility of international chapters. (Torbjorn’s motorcycle-themed Deadlock skin may suggest this, but it does not have any Deadlock iconography, notably showing a bear where one expects the Deadlock emblem.)

This does not necessarily mean all of the Deadlock Rebels Motorcycle Club is a criminal organization, nor every single member a criminal, but… y’know, the founding chapter is a weapons trafficking racket. They’re a one-percenter outlaw motorcycle club, and there’s a quick and easy comparison in the real-life Hells Angels, whom the show Sons of Anarchy models itself after.

Deadlock, besides naming itself after the concept of death like Los Muertos does, also uses a skull in its emblem. We haven’t seen any member of Deadlock pictured, but extrapolating from the typical behavior of motorcycle clubs, they likely openly identify themselves and indicate their membership by wearing standardized jackets or most likely vests. Members likely have tattoos indicating membership as well, seeing as Jesse has a tattoo of the Deadlock emblem on his inner arm in his Blackwatch skin.

Those Left Behind

Sombra, orphaned during the Omnic Crisis, was taken in by Los Muertos, a gang that positioned themselves as champions of the underclass ignored during the post-Crisis rebuilding process. They’ve done this most notably by opposing the CEO of LumériCo Guillermo Portero, who they’ve described as having exercised his social influence to have many wrongfully imprisoned and who we know is working with the not-as-noble-as-they-put-forward Vishkar.

The social context of Los Muertos and Sombra is very directly told to us. From Sombra’s official bio:

After ░░░░░░ was taken in by Mexico’s Los Muertos gang, she aided it in its self-styled revolution against the government. Los Muertos believed that the rebuilding of Mexico had primarily benefited the rich and the influential, leaving behind those who were most in need of assistance.

From a lore post published to the website:

…its members style themselves as revolutionaries who represent those left behind by the government after the widespread devastation of the Omnic Crisis.

And Michael Chu on Los Muertos at Blizzcon 2016 (transcript):

Mexico really suffered a lot at the hands of the Omnic Crisis. The war destroyed much of the country’s infrastructure. […] They claim to be kind of revolutionaries fighting for people who were left behind during the rebuilding of Mexico after the war.

Despite their noble stated goal, they seemingly also cross a line in their illicit activity enough to earn the ire of Jack, who isn’t exactly on the straight and narrow himself but still seeks the right side of things. As Chu added:

Whether or not that’s really what they are up to, because they’re also engaged in a lot of other shady activities. It is up to you decide.

Given a lot of other suspect activity they engage in, that noble work might not be the only story to be had on them—especially depending on where you’re standing. Saviors with their thumbs in certain pies not meant for them, possibly.

The social context that Sombra rises out of is made very plain for us. But what does it have to do with Jesse?

While we know few specifics about his circumstances growing up, other than he also lived through the Crisis and was likely similarly orphaned during it, the description and in-game environment of the Route 66 map suggest the area is one of difficult social and economic circumstances, emphasis mine:

Though the travelers and road trippers who used to cross the US on historic Route 66 are gone, the Main Street of America still stands, a testament to a simpler time. The gas stations, roadside shops, and cafes have gone into disuse, and the fabled Deadlock Gorge is mostly seen from the comfort of transcontinental train cars. But amid the fading monuments of that earlier era, the outlaws of the Deadlock Gang are planning their biggest heist yet.

Concept art of The High Side, showing the abandoned bar in disrepair with boarded windows and faded paint.

At least one building, the Cave Inn (ba dum tsh) in the streets portion of the map, is visibly abandoned, and the theme of disrepair and long-gone halcyon days is especially prevalent in the concept art for the map. This all paints a portrait of a Deadlock Gang that operates out of an area that suffered immense economic hardship in recent years, likely particularly after the introduction of the transcontinental train cars, one of which is featured in “Train Hopper”, a comic which takes the time to emphasize the wealth of the passengers traveling on them. So, the Deadlock chapter is localized within a region that suffered economically under infrastructure changes that largely benefit the wealthy and powerful. It’s possible that these infrastructure changes were made possible because of efforts to rebuild after the physical devastation of the Crisis.

Without going off on a tangent about it, there’s a bit of a difference between “Deadlock comes out of the lower class in a geographic region beset by poverty” and “Deadlock gang itself currently has no money”. Apparently, well after the effects of financial misfortune set in, Deadlock was and is making enough money to maintain long-distance shipping, as suggested by their semi-trailer truck, and keep an entire town functioning well enough as a cover for their criminal enterprise. Also, missiles don’t sell for cheap. Deadlock might be financially comfortable now, but their context still involves deep socioeconomic disparity.

This is especially poignant against the Route’s invoked nickname, Main Street of America, which conjures images of the average American person. Those average people who owned gas stations, cafes, diners, roadside trinket shops, dive bars are the ones who are forgotten while the more affluent folks pass them over, traveling in style. There’s also a historical precedent in poverty and social disparity as driven by infrastructure changes specifically affecting the way people travel across regions and the country, specifically in the history of the freeway.

To sort of make the clarification, Jesse’s tattoo states that Deadlock was established in 1976—happy centennial, Deadlock—so they’ve certainly changed a lot as their social context and membership make-up changed. There’s much to be said about social non-conformity, outlaw motorcycle gangs, one-percenters, community integration, and how these intersect with both the politics and economics of the local communities along Route 66, especially given how the Route was recently listed as one of the country’s most endangered historic places, even in Deadlock’s apparent founding in a period of American social unease after the Vietnam War and during the late Cold War, and extrapolate a lot about Deadlock from all that, and even about Jesse himself from some of it, but that’s for a different post.

Revolutionaries and Rebels

In that context, it’s worthwhile to note that in their insignia, seen in the graffiti all over the Route 66 map and in Jesse’s tattoo in his Blackwatch skin, they calls themselves the Deadlock Rebels. Generally, outlaw motorcycle clubs are also known for their contempt for social convention and disdain for status quo.

Screenshot of the Deadlock Gang hideout with their insignia, which includes the words Deadlock Rebels, spray-painted onto a wall.

Deadlock is quite the opposite of Los Muertos, though. Deadlock maintains a law-abiding public face—holding innocuous and even advertised national rallies and hiding their illicit activity under numerous cover businesses—and are more discreet in their disrespect of law. One can double down on this by looking to how successfully real-life one-percenter clubs maintain their public image: openly contemptuous of social norms but keeping public knowledge of any legal transgressions to only the small indiscretions while hiding the major ones.

Taking a look at Deadlock’s primary targets, military installations: the train cars on the map are military-related, the gang traffics military hardware and weapons including missiles. Although Deadlock comes from a similar social context as Los Muertos, these aren’t targets seeking to effect a change in society like how Los Muertos seeks to. Deadlock appears largely self-interested, with little interest in changing the fortunes of anyone else in the American lower class. Los Muertos bills itself as other-interested, seeking to change the fortunes of the Mexican underclass as a whole.

Archetypically, Los Muertos are revolutionaries, Deadlock are rebels. While they both groups reject the status quo, the revolutionary seeks sweeping social change but the rebel rejects the status quo on a personal level. The revolutionary wants society to change to suit their vision of what it ought to be while the rebel positions themselves outside of society and will redefine themselves as society changes.

The difference is apparent in their choice of targets. Los Muertos targets institutions and people who directly have a hand in the building of their social context, and attacking those targets will potentially affect a social change. Deadlock targets institutions and people who may have a hand in their social context, but such targets are chosen primarily for the gang’s financial gain.

Los Muertos is politically motivated. Deadlock is financially motivated.

Admirers in the Shadows

Sombra and Jesse don’t remain in their gangs. They both end up joining shadow organizations with global reach, the terrorist organization Talon and the covert ops organization Blackwatch, respectively. Both organizations were wooed by their specific skillsets.

Sombra launched an even more audacious string of hacks, and her exploits earned her no shortage of admirers, including Talon. She joined the organization’s ranks…

With his expert marksmanship and resourcefulness, he was given the choice between rotting in a maximum-security lockup and joining Blackwatch, Overwatch’s covert ops division. He chose the latter.

A young Jesse McCree was recruited into Blackwatch after Gabriel Reyes saw his potential and gave him a choice: join Blackwatch, or rot in prison.

The difference here is that Sombra was offered a place, but she did not necessarily need that offer to continue on with her life. She takes it because Talon resources allow her to more effectively pursue her goals. If McCree did not take the offer to join Blackwatch, his life effectively ended. (There’s a whole thing to be said about this offer, why it was the best offer that could have been made to him at the same, and criminal rehabilitation—but that’s another post.) McCree’s decision to join Blackwatch isn’t motivated by pursuit of a specific goal. He just didn’t want his life to be over before it started. In that regard, his entire life is shaped very directly by his relationship to Overwatch as an individual and Blackwatch, even more than simply its role in ending the Crisis and overseeing the rebuilding efforts.

Sombra, as someone who survived the Crisis, similarly has that more distanced influence of Overwatch in her life, but there’s the possibility she may have a more direct one.

With the recent spawn interaction between Sombra and Hammond showing a sentimentality for her stuffed Overwatch bear, seen in her den in Castillo, there is a possible picture to paint of a Sombra who may have some sentimentality toward Overwatch and might be aiding individual members on the sly not only because she wants to uncover the Grand Conspiracy they’re caught up in but also because she has a personal motivation.

segadores-y-soldados has a lot of good and very recent speculation on what this could mean for Sombra, either working with the room in her background for her to have worked with Blackwatch or having her as never having worked with Overwatch. If she worked with Blackwatch, which is admittedly a shakier theory, it creates a direct and clear mirror with Jesse: given a second chance at life through working with Overwatch and Blackwatch. If she did not and the influence is only the distant one, and she simply remained on the edges of society and making use of the space available, it is an inverse of Jesse. I recommend reading these two posts on the idea: one, two, three.

Name: REDACTED

One could compare Sombra attempting to eradicate her identity as Olivia Colomar and later returning as Sombra to Jesse going underground after leaving Blackwatch and later resurfacing to work as a bounty hunter. Their decisions to drop off the map have different motivations and different degrees of extreme, and there is a different tenor in how one disappears as Olivia and returns as Sombra and the other disappears as McCree and makes a resurfaces in a return to that identity.

Sombra accidentally stumbled onto a massive conspiracy that controlled the world and drew their attention, compromising her security and forcing her to destroy all trace of Olivia Colomar to go into hiding. She came back as a completely new person with no trails to her old identity, a transformation so complete that it took years to connect the two.

It is possible to draw a stronger parallel between them here. Jesse similarly has parts of his identity that he’s hiding (but which Sombra knows about):

Sombra: Pleasure working with you, McCree… if that is your real name.McCree: Don’t know what you heard, but my name’s not Joel. Best remember that.

There’s a strong case for the Jesse is the journalist Joel Morricone theory: at some point in his life, he created a second identity for himself and is working to keep the two separate. It’s currently unclear exactly what the details of the arrangement is or why he goes to these lengths. Given that he disappeared for “several years” after quitting and before reappearing again as Jesse McCree, gunslinger for hire, it stands to reason he spent the intervening years living quietly under the Morricone identity.

We don’t really know much about the specifics of what motivated Jesse to go to ground, but based on his official bio, it seems related to the infighting following the Talon infiltration at Overwatch and Blackwatch that also drove him to quit. It could likely be motivated by security reasons—in a similar but less drastic way that Sombra burned her old identity to protect herself.

Justice Against Law

One of the building blocks of McCree’s character is his stance on justice. He makes it very clear: he is concerned primarily in dispensing justice to the point that he only accepts jobs as a bounty hunter if he believes the cause just and constantly gets involved in vigilantism, putting a stop to crimes both petty and serious.

Through this dogged pursuit of seeing justice done, he seeks a self-redemption for the wrongs he committed early in his life: “he came to believe that he could make amends for his past sins by righting the injustices of the world”. At the same time, he makes it clear that he believes justice and law run on different wavelengths. He appreciates Blackwatch for its “flexibility” to move “unhindered by bureaucracy and red tape”. The Morricone article seems to suggest a belief that justice can be defended by law, but everything else about him strongly states that he does not believe justice is exclusively defended by law.

The short version: McCree has a rigid sense of justice and dedicates his life to seeing it carried out, but he does not equate it with the law. Both of those points are amply evidenced and are at the forefront of McCree’s character.

Edited sequence from the “Searching” comic where Zarya and Lynx-17 go door-to-door, showing everyone a photo of Sombra. Zarya’s internal dialogue in the last panel: “But no one has seen Sombra. Or nobody admits it. They see her like our Stepan Razin—attacking the rich to defy the czar.”

Sombra is (perhaps surprisingly) similar. As stated previously, she was brought in by a gang who billed themselves as seeking a justice for the Mexican underclass that they believed could not be achieved through legal means.

On her own? She holds to those ideals and that goal. She attacks and exposes the CEO of LumériCo, creating an opening to see some justice done for the Mexican people. (The attempt failed, and Portero is reinstated, but that’s besides the point.) Her continuing interest in seeing the Viper Portero removed only makes sense if she continues to have a personal investment in seeing justice for the underclass of her country.

This leads to Sombra being seen as an extrajudicial force of change and good by the Mexican people, particularly those in the Castillo and Dorado region. Zarya compares her to Stepan Razin (Wikipedia), who as I understand it led force composed in part of peasants in uprising and, though he failed, was immortalized as a folklore hero.

Though her methods are different and her goals much more specific, her actions, at least in Mexico, are similarly driven by a search for justice that cannot be delivered by the law.

The Enemies of Talon

I don’t have a lot to say about this, and segadores-y-soldados has summarized it quite better than I have, but it’s important enough to get it’s own section. But, Sombra working against Talon actually puts her technically on the same side as Jesse is—even though Jesse as of “Train Hopper” doesn’t seem that interested in actually ending Talon’s activities or denying them what resources they want, only in preventing them from hurting and killing innocents. (Though, I doubt Jesse is going to remain in that mode for long.)

It is entirely possibly, maybe even likely, that Sombra is aiding Jesse somehow as well as aiding Jack and Ana. I linked a couple of segadores-y-soldados’ relevant posts earlier, but I’ll link them again: linked before, new link.

Miscellanea, Smaller Comparisons

Sombra is embraced by her old gang Los Muertos, even though she has broken ties with them for her safety, as evidenced by the gang’s enthusiastic and open support of her attacks on LumériCo. Deadlock openly rejects Jesse and is suggested to have a “shoot on sight” policy for him, as evidenced by the numerous photos of him accompanying rifles and his photo pinned to a dartboard; it’s possible that they resent him for having avoided prison and taking the presented opportunity to turn over a new leaf.

Even after leaving their respective gangs, both Jesse and Sombra still make use of variations on the gangs’ symbols in their personal iconographies. Sombra identifies herself through a simplified graphic calaveras. While in Blackwatch, Jesse openly displays his tattoo and wears a buckle of the Deadlock winged skull; after leaving Blackwatch, his prosthetic arm features plating shaped like a skull. (The iconography extends to the game’s UI also, with EMP represented by a calaveras and Deadeye with a skull.)

Both take somewhat similar relationships to Gabriel: Jesse is framed as a surrogate son and a right-hand, Sombra is framed as a young accomplice who takes a more familiar tack and a frequent trusted partner. They’re opinionated and vocal about it, unafraid to talk back to Gabriel and criticize his planning.

Further in the personality vein of things, they’re characterized as deeply confident in their abilities to the point of cockiness and overconfidence, and they can be accused (and have been, by Gabriel, though with dubious sincerity) of having too high an opinion of themselves. But despite the breeziness, they are highly competent, thorough, and conscientious, and although they may appear to have a lot of things to say about other people’s plans, they execute their own plans with precision and utmost gravity. Arguably, both are playing a bit of the fool to mask how sharp, observant, and cunning they really are.

#Jesse McCree #Sombra #Sombra Overwatch #Olivia Colomar #Overwatch #Anonymous #Gena plays Overwatch #I FINALLY FINISHED IT.#I apologize to you anon for taking three months but it's nearly 4k words and I was in a slump.#But I am always very happy to talk about things—especially if it's McCree related.#But Sombra and McCree are very interesting as paired characters.#I fear I've spent more time talking about Los Muertos and Deadlock than I have Sombra and McCree though.#But I am deeply interested in the social dynamics and context of Deadlock specifically and all that can be drawn out of the little we know #so I tend to let it get away from me when talking Deadlock.

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johnny-depplyloveyou · 6 years

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So I found this magazine article about Josh while he was still with Minnie Driver in 2000. You can learn more about his early life, worth reading it!

The Heir Up There: Josh Brolin

Text by John Griffiths | Photographs by Art Streiber Article and photos contributed by the wonderfully generous Dana

It was a full-throttle kind of day, and to the glee of Trevor, 11, and Eden, 6, Josh Brolin has just topped a steep hill with his dusty black Jeep. Now the three are standing among a group of moss-dripping oaks high above their 97-acre ranch near Paso Robles, Calif., taking in the panorama. “When you shout, it echoes for over a minute," says Trevor, just before filling the canyon with a bellow. Dad grins. "There's so much serenity here," says Brolin, "and not that new age kind of peace. It's real, down-home dirt serenity." even if you have to work to achieve it: To get to the spread and the three-bedroom, two-story log house that serves as its locus, visitors must navigate a rocky, twisted, mile-long road, cross a bridge and ford stream (Josh, not everyone has an SUV), all the while trying not to be distracted by grazing deer. Bobcats and foxes roam these parts, too, and there's probably not a talent agent within 200 miles. "This is my world," says Brolin. "I don't trust Hollywood, so I don't take it too seriously."

Presumably he doesn't mind that Hollywood won't be rebuffed. After acting in such indie films as Flirting with Disaster (as the straight-arrow, bisexual Fed) and gamely tackling such roles as a cockroach-battling hero in Mimic and a seductive villain in last year's Mod Squad, Brolin, 32, is pressing into mainstream with this summer's sci-fi flick Hollow Man, as the buddy of Invisibility-prone scientist Kevin Bacon. Josh's dad James, of course, is an entrenched TV star -- Marcus Welby, M.D.; Hotel and the current Pensacola -- while his stepmom of two years is la Streisand herself (Brolin fils calls her Barbra). And Josh's own love? Bright-faced actress Minnie Driver, whom he met at a barbecue in 998 (the pair also heat up the upcoming Mexican-desert drama Slow Burn). But Brolin's surroundings put all those tabloid teasers into perspective, according to actor Anthony Zerbe, a friend since the two gunslinged through the early nineties series The Young Riders. "There's this whole Hollywood aspect to Josh's life, but then he's got his ranch where he takes off his shirt and digs a well," says Zerbe. "The place is a bulwark against the intrusive parts of his profession."

Brolin's father and his late mother, Jane, a "female Grizzly Adams" who nursed ailing animals for the California Department of Fish and game, bought the land in 1975 and built their dream home. Josh grew up here with his brother, Jess, and was an A student at Santa Barbara High, some 90 miles away. "My dad dug the pond," says Brolin, skipping stones on the half-acre body of water. "I was lucky to be around people who appreciate this life." His mom, a "spitfire" who urged him to speak his mind, stayed after the couple split in 1985. Five years ago, she died in a car crash, and Josh, then stage acting and directing in Rochester, N.Y., inherited his childhood home -- and all its memories. In the small office, a shelf of his mom's cookbooks; in the pine-beamed, Santa Fe-influenced living room, cowhide couches and a backgammon table (I broke the glass top when I was Eden's age"); and on a counter in the kitchen, a tin holding his mother's ashes. An unorthodox resting place, maybe, but, Brolin says with a smile, "That's how she wanted it."

Initially, nostalgia inhibited him from making the house his own. "For three years, I didn't move a lamp or change a bulb," he says. Lately, however, he's begun to tinker. Streisand hasn't offered any decorating tips, though Brolin notes that she's "very into her home like I am." She visited once, right after he moved in. "It was falling apart," says Brolin. "She said I should sell it." Instead, he tidied things up, bleached the sun-charred decks, and began combing antique stores for Tiffany lamps and Latin-influenced, carved-wood furniture. Outside, he plans to build a dock over the catfish pond. "When I was growing up, if you slipped walking in, you'd get three fish bones in your foot. It'll be easier for the kids to swim."

But what the one-time pasta chef really wants to master is nonchalant hosting, a la the Europeans. "They have their table outside and take their time," says Brolin, whose specialty is zabaglione. "That's what I want to create." He should have no problem, says Mary Steenburgen, who appeared with the younger Brolin in the recent TV version of Picnic. "Josh has a real sense of beauty." she says, "and he's very nurturing." He's also resolute. While filming Hollow Man, he decided to learn how to play guitar. "He borrowed mine when he could hardly play," says Kevin Bacon. "By the end of the shoot, he played well. If he has an interest, Josh does it." Adds Zerbe: "he's focused, which is why he's good on a Harley and at poetry."

That focus has been trained on girlfriend Driver since the duo's first date (they watched a sunset from his red Dodge Ram pickup). With Brolin's blessing, she has draped antique quilts over worn chairs in the living room, and photos beaming her smile pop up all over the house. And those children's drawings on the fridge? "Those are Minnie's," Brolin says, laughing. Each cartoon has a caption: "Carmine has hysterics when Esmeralda has a tantrum," "Carmine and Esmeralda fight over the remote," and so on. Explains Brolin, "I'm Carmine, the curmudgeon. She's Esmeralda, the beautiful, dancing, Spanish-looking chick who's with the guy with the serious emotional hump on his back." He comes upon "Esmeralda watches Carmine sleep" and grins: "That's nice."

Brolin and Driver seem to have doodled their way into a complementary relationship. "I'm more cynical, she lightens me up," he says. "I can't imagine being with anybody else." He's mum on marriage but admits he's gaga. "Absolutely. One hundred percent." It helps that Driver is smitten with the kids, who spend weekends at the ranch and weekdays with their mom, Alice Adair, an ex-actress with whom Brolin parted in 1995. The London-bred Driver "loves being up here," Brolin says, though the ways of the wild can throw her. When Brolin recently ordered his dog to get rid of a squirrel ("They ruin my property"), Driver turned ashen. "Man, tears -- just wahhh," he says with a wince. "she'd never seen anything so violent ... but that's country life."

These days the former punk rocker with a daredevil streak -- Brolin won the Toyota/Pro Celebrity car race this year (as did his dad in 1978) and he used to skydive -- is sticking to the ground. "Now I think, 'What if the chute doesn't open?' " His current notion of adventure includes checking out the Animal Planet channel with his kids. "This is the first time we've had TV in six years," says Brolin. "We're urbanizing!" He also kicks back by watching Spencer Tracy flicks or spinning Pavarotti on the Wurlitzer jukebox. Or, he'll mend a fence or hit a cattle auction ("Sometimes I'll take home some 30 cows to graze.") Lest anyone confuse him with a character on The big Valley, Brolin does have a slick of slicker in his. When he's down in L.A. for work "I'll go to a museum or to the Mint for jazz," he says. "I need to be in the city sometimes."

But while the dusty-shoed cosmopolitan dreams of someday living in the south of France or in Greece, it's his homestead that inspires. In the stillness, "my imagination can kind of fly," says Brolin, as he takes in the view from his bedroom window, from the wildflowers to the oat fields to the ducks flying above it all. In winter, those hills are Irish green. Fog rolls in from the ocean and hangs like a blanket." A heavy, happy sigh. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

#Josh Brolin #photoshoot #Josh's ranch #Minnie Driver #long post

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the-nature-of-the-art-beast · 5 years

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Winter’s Wisdom

“Another long line on another wet-cold day, and here I stand in it like every other day, month and year. In the winter of my life, I thought I’d have so much more. But you can’t have ‘so much more’ when you sloth through opportunities, greet new beginnings with apprehension and anxiety; and then there’s the path of least resistance, huh, the path of least challenge, least accomplishment and reward. It’s a lethargic journey to mediocrity, if you’re lucky; if not it’ll land you in another long line on another wet-cold day for whatever they’re serving at the Ministry,” Marty Williams repeated this monologue often.

January in South Texas means a mild winter as compared to anything above Interstate 10, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not cold. In fact, with the added humidity and gulf winds, winters on the Corpus Christi Bay can be downright bone chilling. Luckily, however, those bone chillers are interrupted by spring-like weather. During the winter months, South Texas experiences an influx of homeless who escape from colder climates.

Marty stood in line to eat whatever the Food Ministry had that day. Most of the time, it was really good food. Every once in a while a person who doesn’t know how to boil water takes a stab at cooking for the homeless of Corpus Christi and that just makes being homeless that much more of a suck parade. Marty thought people should have to audition before they cook. One time there was a load of jalapeno cheese cornbread someone made that was raw in the middle. Marty remembered thinking, “Do they not know about the toothpick test? But whatever, we’re just homeless and we’ll eat anything, right?”

He could hear some excited chatter from the front of the line and when he rounded the corner and saw the buffet that was set up, he could hardly believe his eyes and his mouth started to water; fried chicken, mashed potatoes and “Oh Lord,” Marty thought, “friend okra?” He could hardly contain his excitement, “Holy Lord!” He exclaimed. Others in the line echoed his excitement.

Marty is a lean figure of a man of about 5’6” with cornflower blue eyes, balding head with whisps of fine brown hair in a horseshoe pattern. He wore whatever he could get from the Goodwill with his voucher. Once a reporter and editor for a Central Texas newspaper, he found himself floundering in the literary world where he so longed to be. His dream, his ultimate was to edit great books and write even greater books. But his journalism career consisted of covering the local old biddy art league and church happenings. Not exactly exciting stuff but it was a living.

Sometimes he thought back on that opportunity. How could he have handled it better? If he had stuck with the old biddies and the church happenings, could he have moved up in the paper? Couldn’t he have found himself interviewing truly interesting people? Maybe, he could have if he had the passion to make writing his love instead of his vocation. Lack of passion was the consistent in his life. He saw no point in being passionate about anything. His only goal was to be loved and respected. He wanted others to have passion for his work, but if he didn’t, why would they?

He was persistent in criticizing himself and his lack of passion but he would not follow through on the recommendations he gave himself. Every time he resolved not this time! Not again! He found himself there again, this time. So he stopped swimming upstream. He began to just stop everything. Sooner than what he thought, he ended up homeless. Then he lost his vehicle and his storage unit and then he just meandered about looking in garbage cans and doing what he could to earn a few bucks here and there to get a meal or better yet, a bottle of wine.

Marty found a seat across from Mermaid Kate. Kate La Fe told people she was a mermaid and people often gave her little seashells as presents. She began attaching them to her clothing and she would rattle and click when she walked. She was an artist and married to a wealthy banker but her love of drink separated her from her banker husband. While he did love her, he just couldn’t take her drinking any more. He gave her an ultimatum and she chose her freedom over his insistence that she attend rehab.

For a while, after their split-up, he paid for a small apartment for her, so she wasn’t completely homeless. He wouldn’t give her money to spend because he knew where it would be spent. She started taking in people to live in the apartment in exchange for booze or money. Soon, management would find out and they’d kick her out. This happened time and time again. Finally, her ex-husband said that was enough. He cut off all ties. It was hard for him to do but until she could admit her problems and get help for them, he’d have nothing to do with her. So, Mermaid Kate moved on. She had a little place in the alley behind a local contemporary art gallery.

The artists would feel bad for her and sometimes, when the weather was awful, one of them would take her in but once she got into their liquor cabinet, that’s when relationships would get strained. One artist who took her in more than the others, Garret Blakmon, was always good to her. Kate, even with all her issues, is a stunning woman. But Garret didn’t drink so Kate didn’t like staying with him all too often. It had to be seriously bad weather for her to take him up on his offer.

Kate’s face was fringed with long salt and pepper hair, her hazel eyes watched every move Marty made. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him; it was just that she found him interesting in an odd sort of way. She liked him. She thought they would make a cute couple. Marty put some of his mashed potatoes on a piece of chicken meat and then added the okra with the crispy skin as a tiny hat, like a little amuse bouche. When they got good food served to them, Marty made what Mermaid Kate called, “Tasty sculptures.”

She followed his lead and made her own tasty sculptures. They sat talking and arranging their food as they ate. Soon though, the manager of the kitchen said they would have to hurry. People aren’t allowed to stay longer than 30 minutes because the space is so limited. Mermaid Kate began putting her food up for later. She’d save it for later, right now there was a half-full bottle of rose she found on one of the beaches for which she hungered.

She asked Marty to walk with her down to the gallery. She liked having the attention of men. It suited her. When she didn’t get attention she would full-on pout. Marty said he had to get to the library before it closed and it was fixing to close for the day very soon.

“Marty,” she said in her coy flirty voice. “The library will be there tomorrow. Come on.”

#creative writing #homeless #Texas #Winter's Wisdom #winter #wisdom #marty #mermaid #kate #la fe #williams #Laurette Escobar #tasty sculptures #tasty #sculpture #artists #writers #serial

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aurimeanswind · 7 years

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Your Favorite Video Game Franchises—Sunday Chats (10-8-17)

I know it seems like I keep using generic questions for my “Alex Asks” Sunday Chats, but hey, bear with me here. You gotta lay the groundwork for all of the best relationships.

This week I asked this:

This comes from a lot of places. This year I’ve especially been thinking about the video game lineages that have affected me or at least left the most with me over the years. Most importantly, the sequels to the two biggest video game worlds in my life, Persona and Zelda, both came out this year. It’s been kind of monumental for me. Both are interesting too, because they have me assessing and looking at what ties me to those two specific franchises.

On one, it’s so much nostalgia Zelda means more to me than most things because it’s really the franchise that made me or helped me like games as much as I do today. Watching my brother Brady playthrough The Legend of Zelda A Link to the Past, going to the mall with him when he traded in all his old games to get it, and the story that that encapsulates in my heart and in my mind is critically important to my love of games, and my relationship with the medium as it began. It’s one of those aspects that keeps me tethered to games so forcefully, so completely and utterly in the grasp of the stories and adventures in the medium and that’s where they started for me.

Years later I’d return to A Link to the Past on my own time and play through it to 100% completion by myself. It’s one of the first games I ever 100%’d, and it’s also one of the first times I ever wanted to, a habit that is all-encompassing for just about any and all video games now. I don’t do it as much as I’d like to, because I know the tradeoff of time to commitment, and if I didn’t have to/want to play every new game that came out every day, I’d certainly spend far more time just perfecting and completing them to a near insane-level.

A Link to the Past is where my lineage with games began. It’s one of the first games I’ll play with my kids in the future, if I’m ever lucky enough to have any. It’s massively important to me, and this year’s Breath of the Wild brought not only all those feelings back for me, but entirely new ones as well, as my brothers and I shared a text message thread describing our experiences with the game through the early months of this year.

On the other end of that is Persona 5, which is related to a coming-of-age in a totally different way. Persona 3 FES was one of those games that affected me on a delayed response. I beat it and I felt kind of... hollow. I was so accomplished, and it hit me so hard, and then... nothing. And then when I was laying in my bed alone that night, I just broke down crying. It was something that had genuinely touched my soul, being someone in high school and someone separated from my friends. It pulled all the right strings and hit all the right notes at all the right times.

What’s more, I had never experience any piece of media that had characters grow, and change, and evolve, and relationships with them, in such an intimate way. I loved the characters of that game, I truly did. It impacted me in full force.

Persona 3 was about overcoming insurmountable odds, believing in your friends, believing in what you had done, and fighting until you had nothing left for the betterment of all people. About the selfless act of giving yourself up for all your friends, and Persona 5 revisits a ton of those different themes as well. It’s about those same threads coming to fruition in a completely different, but also globally-impacting way, with plenty of Japanese bullshit along the way.

As I came into adolescence, Persona 3 was the game that made me realize how much I loved all that Japanese bullshit, but also I how much slower pacing worked for me, how much I prefered it. Persona 5 helps rebuild all those feelings, but also ultimately showed me how much I’ve changed and evolved since then, for both the better and worse.

These are the two most important franchises in media to my life, outside of Harry Potter. And I don’t think it’s dumb, or silly to latch onto media and fiction as absolute and important aspects of your upbringing. Myths and stories and franchises are outlets for us to learn new things, experience things we could never ourselves, broaden our horizons, and open our hearts to suffrage that we aren’t privy to. It’s also time for us to reflect on what we like and what we do, and while these two video game franchises may seem shallow to some, they aren’t to me. Whether that’s part projection, or part of something that’s absolutely there, that exact question is precisely what makes media interpretation subjective, and holding those pieces of media close to you totally okay.

So with that said, let’s look at YOUR favorite franchises in games.

Even though Cam is bad at following instructions insofar as “few tweets” is concerned, this is exactly the shit I’m talking about here. This is what I want.

What I love about this story is that this game means something so specific to you because your experience with it was so specific. Just like all games for all people. And there is of course crossover there, but art is reflected in the one who views it, and that’s what makes the discussion around games so fun. That these things reflected onto us in such completely different ways.

What you say about .dotHack reminds me of the way I am with Zelda. That there was this big world out there that only I could save. That I needed to try, and fail, and try again to succeed in that world. That people and tools and deities would help me, and that if my belief was strong I’d hold steadfast and be able to beat the big bad. These are philosophy that, though childlike, you can clearly see reflected in me to this day. And it’s because of a game like that. Without Zelda, I’d at the very least like games in a wholly different way than I do today.

Bravo Cam. I understand.

Well, while I don’t think Roger is being serious about the Frog game, even though I do vividly remember this boxart and that weird frog penis on it, it does make me think of a Frog-related game that got me into a whole different kind of franchise.

Amazing Frog, the Ouya game of all things, is what got me into Game Grumps. And it’s still an amazing episode to this day.

youtube

Ahh my old nemesis Final Fantasy Six. And hearing you bring up FF4 here as well is really important, because I have played Four most of the way through and really love it. To know that Six can build on what was there with new and more engrossing depth makes me want to play it more as well. I love to hear when and where the scope of storytelling in games expanded for folks, because like I said for me that was kind of Persona 3, and how it could get under my skin and into my heart without me even realizing it. My view of games and their stories changed in so many ways with that game.

Of course! And Rock Band has grown into something you’ve played with friends and shared with so many others. It’s a wonderful franchise, and of all the rhythm games I’ve been bad at, Rock Band is surely the one I like the most.

Rock Band parties will always be a loving aspect of my most endearing memories with my high school friends.

Katamari is always a game I’ve only ever experience from arm’s length. I love that it not only resonated with one person, but two! I love it.

Katamari reminds me a lot of the weird Japanese games that have somehow crossed over the Pacific and also found their own niche here in the US. Persona I’d say was in the same camp, but that’s all big now. Katamari never had legions of adoring fans, but it had its passionate it ones. Few games are as carefree and fun, but also odd, and, as Jazz said, visually arresting. A game about rolling up big balls, collecting stuff, and then turning them into stars, may seem nonsensical, and it is, but it’s also just endlessly endearing.

Watching the Game Grumps play that game has been the most I’ve experienced with it, and it seems like a game you can kind of zone out and get lost in. Once again: I love it.

Uncharted is a franchise that, in my head, is like those big movie franchises like Star Wars that resonates for so many human reasons beyond its premise.

If anything, those games showed us what masterclass directors those folks at Naughty Dog are. When we look at the story and writing of something like Jak and Daxter, I’d say it’s good, but the leap to the Uncharted franchise is to another level entirely. It’s human, it’s relatable, and it slowly breaks down all the merits the franchise, and many games, are built on. How the search for adventure can become a sickness, when it starts to put so many lives on the line. It’s all with the caveat of Nathan Drake being a “mass murderer”, sure, but the games build such human characters through humor it’s incredible.

Especially Uncharted 4. Because goddamn.

All the Spoopy factor! How topical!

Resident evil is a franchise that I got to so late, it makes me wish I loved horror as a youngun’. But, regardless, Resident Evil 7 is easily one of my favorite games this year, and I adore it. Where that franchise has gone, both good and bad, from its humble beginnings, is stellar. It really sets the scenes for horror games in general, and with Mikami’s legacy continuing with The Evil Within 2 this coming week, you can clearly see that Resident Evil is at the very least one of the most influential names in all of games.

Man. Metal Gear Solid.

Especially MGS3. That’s a whole conversation on its own.

The end of Metal Gear Solid 3, even if it was lost on me long ago, was a game-changer, that’s for sure. Something like Persona 3 helped me go back and appreciate those MGS games even more, because of the more, lets say, steady indoctrination to “Japanese bullshit” then MGS’s full-throttle approach.

Another franchise I totally missed the boat on, until much much later. But I never knew this about you Andrew! Halo is definitely marvelous, and sets the scene for the modern action blockbuster video game, like an Uncharted. If anything, most of the Sony/Microsoft big action franchises wouldn't be the same, I don't’ think, if it weren’t for the Halo franchise.

For me it wasn’t Dishonored that set the scene for strong morality in games, but Fallout 3. The “Karma System” as i think it was in the game, was where I was first introduced to something like that. Sure, inFamous had it, but such a binary system doesn’t count I don’t think.

I had gotten the want to play passively from stuff like Metal Gear Solid, so that wasn’t new to me, but I love the way Dishonored ties the world to those choices. How it’s reflected not only in Corvo, but in Emily as well. It’s truly a beautiful world in games, unlike anything else out there, from its majesty, to its absolute horror as well.

It’s funny because the political angle of Bioshock is still, to some extent, over my head. Knowing Ayn Rand now and seeing how that is brought into Rapture though, reflectively, has definitely changed that experience for me. I’d have to go back and see Bioshock 2 all the way through to even begin to remember the political commentary in that game.

But Bioshock’s dueling powers that be of Andrew Ryan and Fontaine always frustrated me. Two powers that wished to usurp one another, all for the sake of more influence. with more deeper insecurities laid beneath them. It’s reflective of modern politics in a very unsettling way, and something I could never come to agree with or even empathize with. But that kind of visceral reaction is just the kind of thing video games can evoke out of the player by not just showing you a world, but by surrounding you with it.

Rapture is certainly one of the most compelling settings in all of video game history.

This so fantastic. A game introducing you to a wholly new kind of interest, in such a much more one-to-one way too! Like, I wouldn’t get really into Spelunking from playing Spelunky, that’s not a thing that happens, but Forza to being a gearhead or a car guy or whatever you want to call it totally makes sense.

Forza also has that benefit of being something really approachable too. I think it lays out exactly what it is and how to bring you into its style really well. From my brief experiences with the Forza series, that’s what I’ve taken away at least. That’s so rad!

And hell year EDM. Let’s go to an EDM concert together Jon.

I love seeing how all the franchises roped people wither into game sin a new way or into a totally new thing entirely. It helps evolve relationships, change perspective on storytelling, and more! I just adore it. Keeping play those games. Keep making those stories.

Thanks for placating my question this week everyone. Sorry to the folks that didn’t get it or didn’t read, but no answers from me this week. I will keep writing and be ready to answer them next week, but until then, hey:

keep it real.

#video games #gaming #franchises #enfranchisement #persona #shin megami tensei #the legend of zelda

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kenney-mencher · 7 years

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Why you might not want to work with galleries

There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. It’s whether or not I should work with galleries. I really don’t want to sound like sour grapes but I do believe that for most artists it’s a bad idea to work with galleries. There are exceptions to this rule and I want to explore them here. Let me begin by saying that I’m going up start with the negative aspects. The three main reasons why I think working with galleries might not work for most artists are economic, emotional, and career building.

The most rational thing to base my decision on is money. However, I want to point out in the beginning that the main reason is really economic. I’m 52 years old and I’ve been showing with galleries for around 25 years or so. With the exception of two or three incidents I have never made back the majority of the money that I’ve invested in any one gallery show. This includes group shows.

Let me lay out the finances for you in my situation. For the last 10 to 15 years each year I’ve sold somewhere in the range of $20-$30,000 worth of artwork. In the last two years I’ve been able to say that I’ve been able to pocket two thirds of this money. This is because in the last several years I started selling my work on line through several venues which include, etsy.com, eBay, Amazon, and several other venues. I’ve found that the most successful venue has Etsy.com.

Before this, I’ve had shows in some really reputable galleries that include, Karen Jenkins Johnson in San Francisco, Klaudia Marr in Santa Fe, as well as several galleries in Dallas and other parts of the country. Those are just the most reputable. I don’t want to trash talk the galleries that’s not what this is about. I do however have tons of horror stories about working with galleries.

The empirical evidence is that whenever I’ve had a gallery show I have ended up spending almost all of the money that I made from sales in that gallery on the following, shipping the art, helping with gallery promotions such as catalogs and postcards, and travel expenses. I am leaving out the costs that involve making the art including the art supplies. In each instance I usually sold between 2 to 7 works of art and sometimes these works of art went for as much as $5000. So my art was not cheap and sometimes on a show I would sell around $10-$15,000 worth of work. Sounds good doesn’t it? But it wasn’t. The gallery, which is standard took 50% on each sale. I don’t begrudge the gallery because they are paying overhead expenses and their investing in me. That would leave me with around $7000 left. Shipping art to a gallery especially out-of-state can cost as much as $1000-$2000. So now I’m down to about $4000 that I’m putting in my pocket. Next factor in airfare if it’s out of town and hotels. I think you get the point. At the end of the year I got hit with taxes.

I want to bring up one notable exception to this. It took me about five years of work but I completed a graphic novel and each one of the panels was a separate watercolor. Just after I retired a community gallery in Tracy California, whose directors named Will Wilson, contacted me and offered me a show. Included in the show was a stipend, which was pretty considerable, as well as extra money for painting a mural and they took care of most of the other costs. This even included a hotel if I wanted. So I walked away from that show with a considerable profit. Thank you William Wilson!

So even though it looked like I was a successful selling artist I was only really pocketing at the most, and this includes studio sales around $8000 at the end of the year. I am so lucky I had a tenured teaching position at a community college. In fact, I use my art career as a write-off at the end of every year to decrease the taxes I pay. At the time, I was making about 110,000 year teaching at a community college. My wife and I are not big spenders and I managed to put aside the ton of money in retirement which I won’t touch till I’m 62 or 63 in 10 years. At the age of 52 now I have “retired” and I paint full-time because for the last five years or so I was able to figure out my finances well enough by selling work online that I can afford to paint full-time.

Okay so I think I’ve laid out my more pragmatic or economic reasons for not working with galleries. Your company emotional ones.

Again I don’t want to sound like someone who’s overly negative or complaining about specific galleries, although I could tell you some horror stories but that would make me look like an kind of Dick. So let me talk about it in the most general ways I can.

In the most basic way working with the gallery is a collaboration between the artist and the gallery director. Gallery directors have a different point of view about what kinds of art the artist should make and also what kind of shows should be offered in the gallery. It’s their right they own the gallery. This kind of stuff, and it really makes a lot of artists very bitchy, can really add up by the time you get to the opening reception. Especially if the artist is bit of a prima donna. I also know this from personal point of view because I ran a gallery for about five years at Ohlone college in Fremont and believe me artists are really tough to work with often have an attitude that far exceeds the quality of their work. So this is not a slam on any particular gallery director it’s just pointing out that collaboration is really hard and can lead to a lot of hurt feelings and conflict.

Emotionally, I’ve also personalized the lack of sales at galleries because I have seen the gallery director what I consider to be fumble a sale or not make enough effort. Whether or not this is true, in my subjective perception that is how I felt. And you have to think that most artists are going to personalize the experience of showing their work because the artwork is themselves. So let me just say I feel that a lot of gallery directors have not sold work when I thought they could and I’ve had a strong emotional reaction to that. Many of the artists that I’ve talked to often describe an angry or irritable relationship with the gallery directors who represent them. Often, I am surprised by the vitriol and anger that some of the artist will express about gallery directors even though I think the gallery director has worked really hard and is a good person. They mean you no harm in fact they’d like to help you but often we as artists have bad reactions to stuff.

Here’s another kind of drag emotionally about galleries and that has to do with gallery receptions. Unless you really like a party and you like art receptions and find it really easy to talk to people, gallery receptions are a nightmare for people who have a hard time being the center of attention and or have any kind of social deficits and problems. That type person is me. You wouldn’t know about it reception because I appear to be very outgoing and I also know how to schmooze people. However, inside I am just crawling with anxiety. My armpits are soaked my suit jacket. My little bald head is sweating. The experience is a total freak out for me and I really don’t like it.

That brings us to the next and final idea of why I think what you shouldn’t work with the gallery. I’m in a basic on my experiences and I will also bring in the experiences of two or three other artists and their stories. I will not name the artists to protect the innocent.

Case study number one. This artist is way better than me and managed to wrangle an exclusive contract with a very important gallery that worked with some other “blue-chip” types of artists. The experience that this artist described in terms of whether or not that gallery built this artist career is that it didn’t. The gallery had promised to promote this person’s work, take care of expenses, and you have the artist really did have some nice shows and was able to do some cool stuff at the gallery but according to them they didn’t: a profit and over coffee the artist was constantly complaining about the lack of promotion and the lack of empathy gallery had. In short, the gallery promised to represent this artist and to really promote them and make them into being is important artist and they didn’t. I’m not blaming anyone, this gallery actually have to shut down even those pretty famous.

Case study number two. During the studio visit to an artist studio while I was director of the school’s art gallery, again over coffee and during the visit, one artist complained about the gallery that they’re working with for nearly 2 hours. I don’t begrudge the artist, the I guess I do a little bit, but the gallery according to this artist didn’t sell enough of the artists work even though they sold everything they made and often cock blocked them when they had studio sales and wants as a percentage of the profits from the studio sale. I don’t really know what the reality is because my experience of the gallery in general was pretty positive because I also showed with them. However, I understood how the artist felt.

Both of these artists, in my opinion, are top shelf artists. Honestly, they are so good that I’m jealous of their work and yet the gallery itself didn’t really, or wasn’t able to because they didn’t have the juice, to make their career. In fact one of the artists has gone off on their own and has been getting shows all over the world and has started their own organization and is doing fairly well by promoting their own work. They are still going to gallery root however, they don’t have an exclusive contract with a so-called important gallery again. I think they’re happier for it.

Okay, I have a lot more experience and a lot of anecdotes that I could share to back up all of my observations, but I do want to make one sort of positive comments about working with galleries.

Occasionally, galleries really to make an artist’s career. Historically, there artists like Picasso and Basquiat who have had very fruitful and excellent experiences working with impresarios and art galleries that have given them salaries and promoted them as artists and literally made their career at times. Art history is full of these notable exceptions. Perhaps some of the artists that I really appreciate, such as Bo Bartlett and Macolm Liepke, have had some really good experiences with galleries and have had come out to be a career building experience for them. I do think that in the contemporary world now, because of the egalitarian nature of the Internet and the fact that people can buy stuff online, this might be less possible. I’d love to hear your opinion.

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xaphrin · 7 years

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I would love, LOVE more mechanic AU

He had taken preciouscare of the Firebird. Lifted it up from its near-death experience in the backof a junkyard in Santa Fe, where it sat perched on a set of cinderblocks assome old man’s “project car”. He had painstakingly restored nearly every detail,down to refurbishing the Harvest Gold interior and finding an actual knob from 1980 for the stick shift.But the crowning achievement was the gold pinstriped firebird splayed out overthe pitch-black hood. It was the last piece he promised himself, the one thatsaid he was done and his baby was nolonger dying – but alive.

He loved this carmore than he loved himself.

“She’s beautiful.”

[more under the cut]

She was spectacular. Years of blood, sweat, andtears went into rehabilitating her, and Obi felt as proud as a peacock when hesaw the light in The Professor’s eyes. It was like she was looking at fine artfrom behind glass at a museum, and her fingers twitched at her sides, as if shewanted to touch it.

“How long did it takeyou to work on her?”

“Too long.” Helaughed and crossed his arms over his chest; smiling as he watched her walkaround the car, admiring all the little details he had tried to get just right. “I bought her about tenyears ago with the money I made from my first job. I was just a kid with adream about owning a classic.”

Shirayuki stoppedjust outside the passenger door and looked at him, eyes wide. “You’ve beenworking on her for that long?”

“Yeah. She’s been myspecial project.” He tapped his fingers on the hood and tried not to thinkabout how much he liked The Professor standing next to her. Shirayuki’s handslingered on her the same way they would on a lover – a soft, gentle touch that spokeof care and understanding, and something delicate.Obi yearned to have her hands on himlike that, like he was something special that she wanted to touch and explore.

“Do you ever take herout?” Her fingertips rested just above the door handle and she looked over theroof of the car at him. “I mean, it seems a pity if you just let her sit in thegarage all this time. She needs to be shown off.”

He laughed and restedhis arms against the roof, looking at her as if she was the only person in theworld. Her vibrant red hair spilled over her shoulders and her eyes looked likethe kind of colors that spoke of spirits in the tales his grandfather told him.His heart turned over in his chest and he pulled the keys out of his pocket,dangling from a vintage lucky rabbit’s foot keychain. “I’m happy to pull herout if the company is right.”

“Is that so?” Shesmiled and her hand curled around the handle, eyes bright. “Are you actuallycalling me the right kind of company or are you just teasing me?”

“Come on, Professor. I think you know I’d consideryou the right kind of company.” Heopened the door and motioned her inside. “You just need to tell me somewhere youwant to head out to.”

“Someplace to look atthe stars.” Shirayuki sunk into the bucket seat and looked over at him with asmall smile. She looked sweet and innocent, and it made him feel like the worldhad been pulled out from underneath his feet and he was left hanging in themiddle of nowhere. She pulled the seatbelt across her lap and shrugged. “It’s agood night to see them.”

The thought of herbeing out in the middle of nowhere with him, just staring up at the sky forhours, made him feel as though his heart was being squeezed inside his chest.It made him feel like there was so much more than just this weird friendshipthey’d created over the last few weeks. He rested his hand on the shifter and lookedover at her out of the corner of his eyes. “I’ve got just the place.”

It was nearly an hourlater, when Obi pulled off a twisty mountain trail, taking his precious cardown a few hundred yards of dirt path before he came to a complete stop andopened the door with a grin. “Come on, Professor. I don’t want to be the only oneout here… it’s dark and scary, and I might need someone to protect me.”

She rolled her eyesand stepped out onto the dry rock beneath her feet, taking a moment to steadyherself before she looked up into the endless sky above her. Obi glanced overand watched her eyes widen and the gasp catch in her throat as she stared atthe strip of Milkyway that slashed through the darkness with a wound of light.He felt his heart turn over again, twisting almost painfully in his chest asshe steadied herself on the hood.

“I didn’t… wow.” The corners of her lips pulledback in a smile of wonderment, that she didn’t really know what to say or howto say it. “It’s so beautiful… how did you know about a place like this?”

“I grew up not toofar away.” He shrugged and glanced up at the sky, memories flooding his mind. “Myfriends and I used to come out here all the time… tried to get away from ourfamilies.”

She laughed. “And didyou take all your girlfriends out here? Try to put the moves on them?”

He grinned, his smilelopsided and teasing. “When you’re a teenager, there’s no easier way to getinto a girl’s pants than to give her a beer and show her the stars.”

“What about when you’rean adult?” She turned and looked at him, resting her hands on the hood of thecar.

She looked almostcoquettish, leaning over the hood with that soft smile on her lips. Her littlenecklace that he had made her was resting just above her cleavage, and he couldsee the pale-blue lace of her bra peeking over the neckline of her tank top.She looked… dangerous. She lookedlike everything he had ever wanted in his life – a softness he didn’t allowhimself, a gentleness he didn’t think he was worthy of, and a sinfulness thatspoke of long nights wrapped up in each other. He wanted all of it, and here she was, standing in front of him.

“What’s the best wayto get into a woman’s pants when you’rean adult?” Her fingers traced some of the pinstriping on the firebird, as ifshe was trying to avoid his curious stare. “I’m asking… for a friend.”

Obi felt like hisworld was sudden thrown upside down. He stood there, staring at her, wonderingif he would ever be able to breathe again. She couldn’t possibly mean that she would want to sleep with him? He was aparentless mechanic, and he wasn’t educated like her. He couldn’t alwayskeep up with what she said to him, with the way Latin names would fall out ofher mouth and she would start to blather on about her work, practically glowing. He wasn’t anything like thepeople she hung out with…

Oh. Oh… right. She didn’t ask about dating him. She asked about him getting into her pants. She wantedsomething fun, not something forever.There was a distinction there that he couldn’t ignore. He… he could be fun forher. If that was what she wanted, then he could pour on the smile and thecharm, and when she went back to San Francisco, she would tell all of herfriends about her summer fling. It shatteredhim, but… if that’s what she really wanted…he could be a summer fling.

He slapped on what hehoped was his most charming smile and leaned over the hood, looking at her. “Professor! I’m a modern man that likesto be wined and dined a little.”

Shirayuki flushed andpulled back, her head turning to look at the stars. “I… I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, you did.” Obi grinned and pulled himselfup onto the hood of his car. “You certainlymeant it. Come on, up on the hood, Prof.We might as well pretend to look atthe stars while we’re up here. Then we’ll see where the night takes us.”

She tried to forcedown a smile, but it split her lips and she laughed before scooting onto thetop of the hood. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best.”

She settled next tohim, her shoulder brushing against his own and reminding him how close she was.God… he wanted to wrap his armsaround her and pull her close and tight against his chest. He wanted to tellher that he wasn’t a fling, that he likedher, that he was having all these feelings he shouldn’t have for a girl whowas just going to leave once her work was done. Maybe if she wasn’t so cute, orsweet, or everything she was it wouldbe easier to keep this casual, but Obi knew the truth. He had fallen so hardthat it hurt.

“Aren’t you worriedwe’re going to scratch the paint?” Shirayuki looked over at him, eyes nearlyreflecting the stars.

Obi forced anotherlaugh and glanced over at her. “Nah… and even if we did, I can fix it. I canfix anything.”

Her teeth sunk intoher lower lip, and she looked like she wanted to say something, but the wordsdied on her lips. Instead she lay on her back and stared up at the stars again.Obi listened to the call of the animals around them, mingling with the softsound of her breath, and he closed his eyes. For a moment, it was easy topretend that this was real. That she wouldn’t leave in a few months. That inanother ten years, they would be right here… on his baby, talking about thestars. He could pretend that for just a little bit longer.

“Would you do it?”Her voice was so soft that he wasn’t sure if she actually spoke.

Obi opened his eyesand glanced over at her, confused. “Do what?”

She waited a longminute before speaking again. “Make love to me?”

#obiyuki #mechanic au #today in: SAB WHAT ARE YOU DOING THIS IS TURNING INTO A REAL FIC???#WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF #Throw me off a bridge and let me suffer

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namely-a-user-blog · 7 years

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About Me Meme

I got tagged by: @pommepomme !!! ♥

Rules: Tag 20 followers you’d like to get to know better

oh boy its been so long since i did one lol

Nickname: Annie Banannie or Ed

Gender: Female

Zodiac sign: Caaaaapricorn

Height: 5′1″ (and a half inch!!)

Sexual orientation: Bi c: (and v attracted to cute people!!)

Hogwarts house: Slytherin last i check?

Favourite colour: soft purples and variants of chartreuse

Favourite animal: oh man... I like cats, rabbits, and dogs!!

Time right now: 3:56 AM (i should really sleep...)

Average hours of sleep: Uh it ranges from 3-5 hours?

Lucky number: 2, 13

Cat or a dog person: I love both, but I’ve always lived with dogs c:

Favourite fictional character(s): (here we go...)

Hitomi & Homura (PMMM) ♥ Sofia & Vishnal (RF4) ♥ Almaz & Artina & Flonne (Disgaea) ♥ Ilyana & Ike & Morgan (FE) ♥ Mary (Ib) ♥ Everyone but Rose and Ignacio (Dragon Nest)

Last thing Googled: I think it was “spanish word for bitter”

Blankets I sleep with: 2! im easily cold ><

Favourite band: I dont have one ^^;;

Dream trip: Meeting up with my dragon nest guild members irl! ♥

Dream job: teaching elementary or teaching Algebra c:

Wearing right now: pink short shorts and a grey sweater :’)

Age of blog: hahAH i made this blog about 5ish years ago? Following: 263

Followers: 114 <:

Posts: 5,365

When did my blog reach its peak: i dont think I have?? lol

What made me decide to get Tumblr: saw my sisters blog and wanted one too c:

What I post about: many many cute girls (and some guys!) and occasionally text posts and the like ♥ (pretty much just cute games and anime with super rare art posts)

Do I get asks regularly: lol nah

Aesthetic: soft!! pastel!! colors!!! ♥ And cute grils c:

Tagging: I honestly dont have that many mutuals that talk with me ;u; here?: @sugarlantern @eilidhan @lautahlen @stanhoff and I’ll put mitsu here but you dont have to do it again lol @pommepomme

how in the world are you supposed to tag 20 people @__@;;

#about me #tag meme #ramblings #ty for the tag mitsu c:#its almost 4:30 am i should sleep

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frommoroccowithlovehamza · 7 years

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Best thing i do in morocco holidays with my friends

Morocco holidays

Morocco is the richest country in the world, when I saw some pictures of my friend‘s Morocco holidays, I find myself running out of interesting, there is to many exciting places to visit. If you are someone who loves travelling to discover new places and enjoy your time, then you should definitely add Morocco holidays to your travel list.

If you come to profit Morocco holidays you’ll be surprised about how it takes care of its traditional buildings, you’ll be amazed about the incredibly sights, you’ll just love this country. There are amazing nal homes with gorgeous tiles, mosaics and gardens and palaces. The best bit is, you can see these amazing traditional homes right next door to amazing modern structures. There’s no need to go looking for beautiful buildings, you’ll see them if you walk through the surreal, winding streets of Marrakech or duck into one of the hotels and riads (traditional houses).

My Morocco holidays begun in Casablanca city, the famous city by its arts and decoration shown in its buildings and the modern-day masterpiece such as the Hassan II Mosque. I spent a pleasant day by exploring Casablanca city by walking in its streets in old medina and watch beautiful views as this city walls, then went in the other side of the city, the new medina by jumping in a taxi to see Quartiers des Habous, the new medina. I couldn’t for sure forget about visiting the beach too, and take a rest watching how people are very friendly, just playing with each-others, and ice-cream and tea and coffee and sandwiches sellers all around, I didn’t miss my chance of course, I bought a glass of sweet mint tea which was very cheap even though it was incredibly delicious, and watching the sunset; What an amazing view! It’s like the sun pierces the sea slowly to disappear and show us the stars in the sky.

The next day of my Morocco holidays , I kept going my way travelling by the train in the morning to Rabat city. This city’s history is long and colorful, it contains many Arab monuments, some dating from the 10th to 15th century and others that are more far older. Then I went to the near city from Rabat called Salé walked up to Kasbah des Oudaias, and I just enjoyedthe wonderful views over the Atlantic Ocean. Afterwards, I continued my way to Meknes on train for like three hours. This imperial city of Meknes was built when Sultan Moulay Ismail set out to create his own version of Versailles, using over 25,000 slaves to construct walls, gates and over 50 palaces. I’m really thankful for the idea of Sultan Moulay Ismail’s own version of Versailles, and very proud of all the people who worked hard to make those beautiful buildings that are so attractive, it gives more pleasure to the eyes, you must not forget to take your camera with you wherever you go, Morocco holidays have a lot to show.

Just after I woke up I took my way to visit Chefchaouen, a tiny town in Morocco’s Rif mountains. It was a last-minute decision to make, when I heard so many wonderful stories about the dizzying medina and its narrow blue buildings that I wanted to see and visit it for myself. I took an overnight train to get there, but the way to reach this beautiful city was worth it.Getting lost would have been frustrating anywhere else, but in Chefchaouen it was part of the fun for me, when I get there I started to explore this extraordinary city by walking and its blue and white colored streets.

I couldn’t wait for the next day to see Safi city too. This coastal city is one of the oldest city in Morocco and naturally has a rich history. It was one of my exciting city to visit, since it’s known by its traditional arts, and also, it’s a successful fishing and industrial port. Safi city is really a place to relax and explore the culture of Morocco because of its vast and intriguing history. So, I just packed my camera, putted walking shoes and got ready to discover all that the road less traveled by to offer. So I went to see the Atlantic port city of Safi city and it was absolutely and amazing place to explore.

At the morning of the following day, I made hours of drive to Fes, known locally as Fes el Bali, this city is the spiritual and cultural heart of Morocco by being vibrant, noisy, fascinating and overwhelming with a huge old city that I can consider that it is the mother of all medinas. Watching the sunset over the Medina is an experience you’ll likely remember for a long time.

My trend in the next day was to Midelt. I could board a private minibus and just leave the intensity of the city behind for the tease of the scenic Middle Atlas Mountains for like 4 hours. Here, you have to just stretch your legs as you explore and take a closer look at local farming life in the near village of Bremmem, and visited Kasbah Myriam, it is the perfect place to pick up a souvenir. Here I could check out a unique optional traditional music performance.

The following direction took me long a bit, it was driving for five hours towards the mighty Sahara Desert. And since I rented a car, I had the lucky chance to stop in many places and take pictures and just fall in love and admire the views of Kasbahs and palmeries. I stopped riding in a small Saharan settlement of Merzouga. I can’t describe the view of the orange-colored Erg Chebbi sand dunes, the charming Saharan village of Merzouga which feels wonderfully isolated, I just forgot everything and left that modern world behind. I took the chance to motivate myself a bit by mounting a camel for an hour sunset ride into the amazing desert and live the moment of a true exciting adventure. The Erg Chebbi dunes are definitely the most stunning in the country and an essential part of any Morocco holidays . I spent the night in desert in a camping tent under the stars, the time to rest and relax.

The next part of Morocco holidays was to go visit Ouarzazate, nicknamed by the door of the desert because of its local amidst three valleys at the gateway to the Sahara. A wonderful place with a hot climate almost all over the seasons of the year with a bit of fresh winds. Itransferred to a hotel with swimming pool to rest a bit, then I continued exploring the town that was originally a stop for trans-Saharian caravans.

Afterwards, I went to see Essaouira city. I took a morning walk through the valleys and trails of the stunning Atlas Mountains. The sandstone walkways contrast with whitewashed houses, the bright blue sky and the sand of the surrounding beaches and dunes. What beautiful this sights are!Its charm has seduced me to spend more time exploring my morocco holidays. After that I decided to rent a riad, a traditional house that’s a calming oasis away from the buzz of the medina. The riad was beautifully designed and decorated in a traditional style, Moroccan style; cozy and yet historical. This was likely one of the most memorable stays of my journey.

Then, Marrakech time! The red ancient, exotic city that I was so excited about it. Marrakech is a feast for the senses. I was enticed by the alluring scents and brilliant colors of the spice markets, the awesome sounds of the musicians, the rich folds of the carpets, the delicious foods. I spent like all the late evening at the famous Jemaa el Fna, one of the largest public spaces in the world. When night falls on this big piazza it transforms in to a hive of activity and became a noisy place by its music and sellers and people walking all around. Snake-charmers, henna-painters, the dance of the group called Oulad Sidi Ahmed Ou Moussa, the performers and storytellers share this big square place with a street food bazaar, packed with stalls loaded with Moroccan delicacies, including snail soup and the fresh orange juice. Ireally enjoyed my time by having a long walk and getting lost in the square and the streets of the souk, and I finished by having a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. After that I was planning to go to a hotel to rest, but I couldn’t resist and leave this amazing piazza so at the and I finished my day with a cup of tea on one of the roof-top restaurants overlooking the square.

The last city I planned to travel to on my morocco holidays was Agadir city, the owner of the best beach in Morocco, the old and new city since it was destroyed itself by an earthquake back in the Sixties. And rather than rebuilding what was left, the officials decided to start from scratch and make a whole new city. That means that Agadir city became filled with broad, and palm-lined avenues edged by cafés, and high-rise hotels flanked by blossoming parkland. But in fact, this city had just covered the old one by amodern cover by its buildings which can face fool you though. But when you look behind the scenes you can see that it hasn’t lost any of its old-world charm shown even as you wander past the contemporary restaurants and stores, you’ll always come across colorful bazaars, spice-scented souks and spindly minarets.Agadir city just have putted me in a good spot day trip.

This incredible morocco holidays took me right into the heart of local Moroccan life. Morocco has so much to offer and you’ll never get bored of its cities! The food here is something to remember for good, the tastes of different males can stick in your head! Morocco’s got you covered in anything you desire, and to be honest, the food alone is probably reason enough to pack your bags and head to Morocco! The taste of the meat and vegetable in Tagine can make you feel like you have never eaten something called meat or vegetables, you’ll discover you’re missing a lot in this fabulous country. You have to taste also the couscous or the bread made by women in the countryside, Pastilla and soups like Harira (chickpea soup), and for sure drink the super tea which makes you feel how warm and sweet Morocco is.

Morocco holidays has so much more to offer than meets the eye, everything here is wonderful, you can do many things and visit different places with cheap prices. When I was planning my Morocco holidays I thought I need a lot of money because of how incredibly my friend told me this country is, but in fact I was surprised about how cheap life is here, food is very cheap, and also renting cars or a room in a hotel with fine benefits, or buy souvenir. It is just the perfect place to enjoy and spend a bit of money of something that worth to spend money for, to travel from city to another to see amazing views and buildings and see what the greatest people made in the past, and for sure a place to meet nice people and make new friends.

The whole point of morocco holidays was to bring refreshment, by clearing up my head, resting my body and mind, facing a new environment and being isolated from the everyday surrounding and problems, and made up fresh thoughts, and my morocco holidays are successful indeed considering this goal and it brought about a transformation I actually didn’t expect. After feeling stuck for months back, I finally found my inspiration during those few days in Morocco. So, all you have to do is to be leaded by those steps and travel to Morocco to discover yourself what you’re missing.

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flourishedandsunkissed · 7 years

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Music: Personal Best of 2016

On the last day of 2016 I made a thread of the songs I thought were the best that year from albums I loved. This isn’t all inclusive or definitive. I also haven’t listened all the way through all of these albums, honestly, so some will just be songs that were introduced to me by Nathan Zed’s amazing playlists. Also, there will be A LOT of links here because you should listen to these songs. Here we gooo!

Infatuation - All-American Trash BROCKHAMPTON

This song. This mixtape. This group. I knew of Kevin Abstract because The Neighbourhood took him under their wing and had him open for them. I paid a little attention to him, but then Nathan Zed put Camp Green Lake on a playlist and I fell in love. I saw that the label was BROCKHAMPTON and I found just the name pleasing. I listened to Dirt and it was immediately what I wanted it to be. I decided to listen to their mixtape All-American Trash and was enthralled and infatuated (wink wink). It’s an incredible project and far from trash.

For this song in particular, I can’t even pin what I love--it’s everything. The melody, the strange second verse, the imagery it gives me, how cool it sounds, its flow, the beautiful way the singing, rapping, and beat come together. EVERYTHING.

Runners Up: Palace (very close second), Cotton Hollow

American Boyfriend - American Boyfriend Kevin Abstract

It is so hard to choose a favorite from this marvelous album. I thought MTV1987 was a masterpiece and Kevin kept tweeting his new album was “pop as f***.” I wasn’t sure I was ready. To be honest, it wasn’t my favorite upon first listen but I was into it. Then I decided I wanted to see him live and that I needed to appreciate the album in all its glory so I listened to it again and I had no idea what I was thinking before. It’s absolutely beautiful.

I think the titular song is my favorite, it’s exceptionally difficult to choose. I’m all about cinematics, and this song sounds like the slow motion sequence in every teenage romance movie you’ve ever seen--but in a good way. It’s simple but tells a story. It makes you want to slow dance at prom again then cry yourself to sleep. That may not sound appealing to some, but that’s pretty much my aesthetic.

Honorable Mention: Empty. Wow. This song. This is why it’s so hard to choose. Again, cinematic grandeur is highly appealing to me and the beginning of this song emulates that song. It sounds like a journey through a high school outcast’s day, you can see everything he’s going through. By the chorus, it appears to be a love song to another person, but it’s more about a vicious cycle of home struggles and consequent self-loathing. When looked at that way, the chorus sounds more like a deep need for support. I think it’s important that music tells an honest story and doesn’t try to be popular. Also, this song over all is just beautiful.

Runners Up (extremely close, basically they’re all in first): Empty, Miserable America

Me and Your Mama - “Awaken, My Love!” Childish Gambino

Most people have turned onto Redbone now, which is fine, but this song will always be close to my heart. I can envision this song, I’ve lived this song, and I’ve literally felt this song.

I was one of the lucky people that got to go to PHAROS back in September. Here’s the thing about Gambino: an album is not just a release, it’s an artistic event. He doesn’t put music out for money and notoriety, and doesn’t go halfway. I was too late for the era of Camp, but for Because the Internet, the man created a short film that connected BTI and Camp and wrote an entire screenplay for the album along with visuals for each song. For “Awaken, My Love!”, he brought PHAROS to life; a live album listening party/music festival. Complete with food trucks, an art gallery, and a theater to screen the first two episodes of Atlanta. And when he performed his album, he didn’t just sing his songs--he put on a show. I’ll go into more detail about it later, but this album was an event, not a music release.

I didn’t know the words or even the titles at the time, but Me and Your Mama was without a doubt my favorite when I heard it live. I didn’t even know it and I still fully appreciated it. When he released it and I finally got to hear the words, I was taken. I was already in love with him but this song made me go deeper. I remember saying, “This is the shortest 6 minute I’ve ever heard.” At a certain point with most songs that run long, you get bored. I’ve never got bored with this song, because like I said: I’ve lived this song.

For some people it’s lost love, for me it’s unrequited. It can go either way. But let me break this down.

In the first 2 minutes, I’m floating through space. A choir is singing me through space and what they’re saying may not completely make sense but in the most wonderful way. I can hear the stars twinkling. The bass begins to intensify and I’m rising and rising, and then it drops and I’m falling through a tear in the universe. I’m falling falling falling, there’s nothing I can do to catch myself. And the devil laughs at my demise. “LET ME INTO YOUR HEART.” I don’t have to write about that. I keep falling and it gets more desperate, you can hear it in Gambino’s voice. Even the choir screams. I’ve been falling for 2 minutes, then something catches me. And it becomes dejected acceptance. There are no lyrics, no choir, no twinkling stars or even laughing devil. I’m back on earth and I take a long walk home. For the last 2 minutes.

I’ve felt it too many times not to know. The song can feel different for everyone, it probably means something different to Gambino based on the title, but I know this is what it is for me.

I love it because of what it means, because the extremity, pain, and desperation in Gambino’s beautiful voice, because of the way he sectioned off, giving each a mind of its own that becomes one coherent story.

Runners Up: Redbone, Zombies

Janet - Berhana - EP Berhana

I’ll be honest, I haven’t listened to this whole EP, and I haven’t searched for a deep meaning in this song, I just like the way it sounds. It makes me want to sway in someone’s front yard and drink pineapple juice. I also love his voice. This was another song I found because of Nathan Zed.

Seigfried - Blond Frank Ocean

I’m not even really a Frank Ocean fan. I feel nothing about Channel Orange vs Blond/e, I have selective favorites on both albums. For this album, it was a labor to choose my favorite but I decided on Seigfried. Just because of the way it makes me feel. I also love singing along to it. It sounds like the kinds of movies I love watching and want to make. By now, you probably just think I’m an emo youngin. You’re... not wrong. But I’m okay with that. Because feeling people make some damn beautiful music. And art overall.

One thing I really love about this song is this sequence:

This, this fe-, this feel This feel, this feels This feels ironic This feels ironic Ironic, this feels ironic Ironic

If those are the lyrics, I’ve seen others. But it’s not about that. It’s about the fact that it restricts my breath. The fact that the confusion in the melody makes me tear up. In Flight of the Navigator, Gambino says, “And even when you laughed, you cried / And even when you were sad, you were really happy” and that part of Seigfried emulates that even better than Flight of the Navigator.

I also love Frank’s “monologue” toward the end; “Speaking of nirvana, it was there.” I can see it, I can feel it.

Runners Up: Pink + White, Skyline To, Self Control (they’re all in first place a third one is okay)

Slave - Bobby Tarantino Logic

I’m going to make a bit of a bold statement: Logic is the best rapper I listen to. As for discography and fan factor, I’m not as into him as I am Gambino, even Kanye. But his flow. Is unbelievable. When I was driving home today, this song came on and I just started screaming. 44 Bars and Deeper Than Money are extremely close seconds (that’s happened a lot while making this playlist and you can see). ANYWAY, what I’m saying is, his flow is the best out of all the rappers I listen to. It’s smooth as hell, rarely makes me laugh or shake my head, and puts me in awe of his talent no matter how many times I’ve heard the song. I can’t exactly explain why I chose this song over the other two, it just felt right.

Runners Up: 44 Bars, Deeper Than Money

All Night - Coloring Book Chance the Rapper

I wrote on twitter: “this song is so much fun it makes me wanna actually go outside & live.” That basically sums it up. I haven’t listened to all of Coloring Book yet because it takes me 20 years to get around to everything that’s good for me, but out of what I’ve heard, this is definitely my favorite. It makes me think one of the only parties I’ve actually had fun at and just puts me in a good mood, what else do I need? Yet another song Nathan Zed introduced me to.

Greedy - Dangerous Woman

Ariana Grande

I don’t care that Ariana Grande doesn’t write her own music and that all her songs are implicitly about sex, her talent is UNREAL. She’s one of the few uber famous pop divas that can actually sing and she’s not just “good.” Her voice gives me chills and she is a force to be reckoned with. Again, so hard to choose. It was even hard to choose the runners up. But Greedy had be from literally the first half a second. The first time I heard “GREEEEEDAAAYYYY” I thought, “THIS IS MY FAVORITE SONG.” This song is a ton of fun and just one that displays her vocal ability.

Honorable Mention: Leave Me Lonely. A powerful and deeply emotional song that she sings with such care. Another song I can feel and that definitely displays her range. Also, Macy Gray is a great addition.

Runners Up: Leave Me Lonely, Bad Decisions

Daydream - Single Medasin

I was introduced to Medasin through Masego who I was introduced to by--you guessed it--Nathan Zed. I love Masego and Medasin’s collaboration album and thought I should look a bit deeper into Medasin. This song makes me want to sway and salsa by the beach drinking limeade. It’s like I can taste and smell it. And I do think it perfectly characterizes a daydream.

Dang! - The Divine Feminine MAC MILLER

If there’s any album I know I need to listen to all the way through it’s The Divine Feminine. I’m getting there, I promise. Dang! is another song that’s too fun and too groovy. This was just about everyone’s favorite and it’s easily apparent why.

Runners Up: Stay, My Favorite Part

In Your River - Don’t Explain - EP Snoh Aalegra

This song gives me 60s nostalgia. It’s cinematic and marvelous. My brother explained that this style is called Brills Building. It’s quite reminiscent of the Mad Men theme for a reason. Also, it samples Stark’s Reality by BADBADNOTGOOD & Ghostface Killah. It all comes together wonderfully. This woman’s voice is incredible. It’s rough and smooth at the same time, and again, gives you 60s nostalgia from the upperclass side, even if you didn’t live through them.

Bad Blood - For All We Know NAO

If any song made me feel in 2016, it’s this one. It’s become the theme of a situation for me. Her voice is a new, refreshing one to me. She doesn’t “sound like” anyone to me. And I can identify with the hurt and contempt she emits through this song. Especially in the bridge. I haven’t listened to this whole album, but I know I should soon.

Highlights - The Life of Pablo Kanye West

I listened to this song just about every day for 3 weeks on my trek across campus to class. I love this album overall, although Graduation is my favorite, but I chose this one because it’s another that’s so much fun and that makes me want to go out, dance, and live. And the lyrics are GUTS.

Honorable Mention: Low Lights. The first time I heard it I thought, “oh that’s cool.” Then when I was really going through something and God kept me yet again, it hit my soul. All I can remember is raising my hand to Heaven, truly crying my soul out, and praising and thanking God for being so gracious and everything He’s done for me, especially when I didn’t deserve it. Because I never have. I still don’t. It’s not really Kanye’s song, but I’m grateful he put it on the album or I might’ve never heard it. I want a tattoo of a lyric from it, I just haven’t decided which.

Runners Up: Father Stretch My Hands, Pt. 1, Freestyle 4

Wifeable - Loose Thoughts Masego

This song, this album, this man -- all SO much fun. So carefree and joy-inducing. My roommate and I always used to dance to this song. And I just think it’s cute!

Honorable Mention: Small Talk. “Small talk, small talk, we don’t want no small talk / Dancin, dancin, yeah we love that dancin”: my absolute theme song. I hate small talk. I could write a book about the menial things I’d rather do. But you know what I love? DANCIN.

Runners Up: Small Talk, Too Much

For Free - Major Key DJ Khaled feat. Drake

I think there’s only one other song on this album that I really love, but that’s not the point. THIS SONG IS FIRE. MY ROOMMATE AND I BUMP THIS NIGHTLY. IN THE CAR, ON THE WAY TO CLASS, IN MY SLEEP. I LOVE THIS SONG. And the only song that can match that is: Child’s Play - Views Drake

I don’t care about Drake and I have no opinion about this album but TELL ME WHY THIS SONG BECAME MY LIFE. AGAIN: EVERY CAR RIDE WITH MY FRIENDS, ON THE WAY TO CLASS, IN MY SLEEP, NIGHTLY WITH MY ROOMMATE, EVERY PARTY, PROBABLY THE DAY I QUIT MY JOB I LOVE THIS SONG.

Outside - The Ride Catfish & the Bottlemen

At first 7 was my favorite song. I’m listening to it right now. It still is. But there’s something about Outside. There is something about Outside. I think because it’s so lovely but so desperate. It’s soft, longing and nostalgic, then aching, reluctant then forceful. Tortured. Regretful. Angrily apologetic. Then it starts all over again. It’s a painful memory and a remorseful giving in. I’m still trying to determine the significance of a cut-off instead of a true ending. It’s like an abrupt ending to the story, to the emotion. Like someone walked in you crying. Or invalidated your feelings.

Honorable Mention: 7. How could I not? My friend and I waited for this album for so long and finally someone put up a video of this song live. We were screaming our heads off. The last time Van cries, “And I’d beg you, but you know I’m never home / And I’d love you, but I need another second to myself” the emotion in his voice captures me. What I love about this album--and at first didn’t--is that every song is actually 2 or 3 songs. I plan on getting back to that thought.

Runnners Up: 7, Anything

Never Be Like You - Skin Flume

Another album and artist I’m sure I should listen to more of. This is one of the only songs that was playing everywhere all the time that I didn’t get sick of. Simply because it’s so beautiful. “Stop looking at me / with those eyes / like I could disappear / and you wouldn’t care why.”

Don’t Come to LA - Still Brazy YG

I’m not a YG fan and I don’t think gangs are cool. But some of his music is so hype I become a bit of a hypocrite. Not in the way that I support gang violence but that I support a gang member by bumpin his music because it’s too lit. I don’t want to but it’s SO GOOD. I love his West Coast sound.

Runners Up: Why You Always Hatin?, Twist My Fingaz

untitled 08 | 09.06.2014. - untitled unmastered. Kendrick Lamar

This song is sad in content, but it makes me want to dance. Not really out of joy, but for my goals and dreams. In “Sonny’s Blues,” James Baldwin writes, “...Sonny was playing that piano for his life.” That’s what it reminds me of. Although I’ve been quite privileged throughout my life, this song still resonates with me.

You’re banking on good luck, you wishing for miracles You never been through shit, you’re crying hysterical You settle for everything, complain about everything

This part of the third verse struck me when I paid close attention one day. I felt so condemned. This is entirely accurate in my life. Although I have been through some things, my parents still sheltered me. I’ve never been through anything like Kendrick’s been through. I shouldn’t compare, but I know I’ve had a fairly easy life. I’m so grateful, but having things handed to me has put me in the niche of settling when I can get or deserve better. And man, if I don’t complain about everything. How do I have the audacity? Overall this song means much more than just what that verse means to me, but it’s important either way.

However, when I just listen on the surface, it makes me want to flashback to the 70s and rollerskate/dance through San Francisco.

Vowels - Single HUNNY

HUNNY is just an amazing band. Their music is melancholy but makes you want to dance. The way The Breakfast Club makes you feel.

Do You Wanna Get High - Single BAD FEELINGS

I don’t remember how I came across this song, but it’s unquestionably sexy. I quickly considered it one of the best songs I’ve ever heard. I don’t even do drugs. And this isn’t even about the way it makes me feel, it’s just a well-written song in every aspect. And the raw emotion in the singer’s voice makes me love it more. And that guitar solo.

24K Magic - 24K Magic Bruno Mars

When this song dropped I said, “Bruno Mars know what I want.” I actually didn’t get too into this album and my mom thinks this is just Uptown Funk part 2, but I’m here for it. I love the 70s and it gives me a neo-70s (although others have said 80s... I guess a little bit of both). And you can’t not dance to this.

Honorable Mention: Perm. Another seriously fun song. That’s all.

That’s that. If you read through this whole thing, thank you! And thank you Nathan Zed for introducing me to some fantastic music.

#music #brockhampton #kevin abstract #nathan zed #childish gambino #ariana grande #kanye west #catfish and the bottlemen

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kenney-mencher · 7 years

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Should I work with a Gallery?

Okay so I think I’ve laid out my more pragmatic or economic reasons for not working with galleries. Your company emotional ones.

Okay, I have a lot more experience and a lot of anecdotes that I could share to back up all of my observations, but I do want to make one sort of positive comments about working with galleries.

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