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fullmarvelheart · 3 years

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Crossing Lines (1/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 3,322

Series summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, little bit of angst, slight swearing, slow burn (more to be added as the series progresses)

A/N: I’m finally able to post this today! I’ve been counting down until I could get this out😂 This is the first story that I have written and posted on my Tumblr account. I’m a bit nervous but very excited. I have not entirely proofread this story. Though, I would like to thank my beta reader, Lauren, for all the help and motivation she gave me. The GIF is not mine, credit to the original creator! And a big thank you to the @the-ss-horniest-book-club for hosting Mob!Bucky Appreciation Day and inspiring me to post this story.

Series Masterlist

The sharp clicking noise of my heels, followed by the dull thud of several boots, echo on the wooden stairs leading to the basement of my childhood home. I follow the along the long stretch of the twisting hallways until we reach a door that's muffling the slaps and punches behind it.

One of the men that had met me in the foyer, and had followed me down, knocks twice on the door as I tuck my hand into the back pocket of the curve-hugging black jeans I wore for the day. Moments later, the steel door swings open with a low whine from the give of the rusted hinges. The scent of blood and sweat is the first thing I notice followed by the image of the room.

Five men stand beyond the doorway. The man who opened the door stands near the edge of steel, gun hanging loosely at his side. Two bodyguards stand in adjacent corners of the room, making sure it’s possible to guard the others with in. Two others, the two most trusted of the household, including the right hand to the leader of the Manhattan Mafia Empire, stand imposingly in front of a man bound to a chair in the center. By the amount of fresh blood dripping onto the floor, this wasn't just some petty offense against the leader. Which draws my attention to the final man, leaning carelessly on a table filled with painful weapons. Nicholas J. Fury, the leader of this mafia clan, and my adopted father.

"You summoned me from my apartment, Boss?" I say with a smirk while jutting out my hip.

Phil Coulson, father's righthand, gives me a smirk in return while Maria Hill, his enforcer, just sends a half-hearted glare my way. However, father's face remains neutral.

"I did." He spares me a one-eyed glance. "Tell me what you see?"

I hum in thought to myself as I stalk my way around to see the captive's face. The top half of his once light-colored shirt is now hanging open from being cut by a knife or something similarly sharp. But it's cut open enough to view a tattoo resting on his right breast.

A red skull surrounded by a halo of octopus tentacles.

I grunt in distaste. "HYDRA scum."

The man lifts up his bloodied and beaten head to snarl at me. He twists his mouth before lobbing a spit ball at my feet. The glob of mixed spit and blood lands inches from my black, closed-toe heels.

I scoff at the action and brush my hand into the waistline of my jeans. When I feel the slim metal hilt, I maneuver the object into my palm. With the push of a small button the knife of the switchblade extends before I quickly drive it into his thigh. He screams out in pain as I keep the blade firmly in place. When his screams turn into tired wails of agony, I turn towards my father.

"Who is he?" I ask, motioning my head towards the man.

"We believe he's behind the hit on George Barnes. Or at least, is attempting to put the blame on us." He explains in his no-nonsense tone.

My eyes widen in shock, my lips parting slightly.

"George Barnes was shot at? Is this why I've been called in?" The prisoner painfully chuckles, quietly enough for only me to hear him.

"He's dead, sweet cheeks." He whispers with a smirk of victory.

I growl at him before twisting my knife and yanking it out while I stand.

"So, why am I here? I assume it's not to attend the funeral because you know I can't. It was just a risk just to even come here." My father gives me a pointed look.

"I need you to go with them to the warehouse with the prisoner while your siblings and I attend the funeral that's being held in a couple of hours. After the funeral, George's son and I will discuss some business about our alliance with the Brooklyn clan. I'll call you with the details." I nod at his instructions.

"You know the FBI is going to have me all over this case once they receive word of Barnes’ death, right?" He nods.

"I'm counting on it."

"I'll be waiting by the van." I tell him before wiping my knife on the man’s already dirty shirt and tucking the now closed switchblade into the band of my jeans.

I'm escorted back up the stairs towards the side of the house where the cars sit waiting in father's massive garage. Though the reason for the escort is now clear. My safety. My personal bodyguards, some of my father's most trusted men, meet back up with me to continue through the house. The sounds of nearing footsteps draw my attention to another hallway. My siblings, the twins, round the corner with their own group of bodyguards.

Wanda, the youngest, according to her brother, is dressed in all black. Appropriate for a funeral. Her brown hair is in casual waves while her makeup is mostly minimally visible. Her natural eyeshadow pairs well with the red lip tint she chose. Her normal red leather jacket is replaced by a similar black one that's draped over a black dress which is cinched at the waist. Her normal array of colorful and seemingly mismatched jewelry has been changed into a long silver chain necklace and a simple dark color bracelet. And to top off the outfit, she put on a pair of high heeled ankle boots. A surprised gasp leaves her lips when she spots me and soon, she's running to me as fast as she can in those heels. Her brother, Pietro, follows not too far behind her.

Pietro is dressed in a similar fashion. His silver dyed hair is brushed into gentle waves. A black leather jackets lays over a black dress shirt while matching pants and shoes. He also wears a small silver chain with a blue pendant on it. A gift from his twin.

Wanda pulls me into a tight hug with an excited squeal and I laugh, returning her hug with equal excitement.

"Y/N/N what are you doing here?!" She giggles as she pulls back. I laugh while Pietro pulls me into a similar hug.

"What? Can't an older sister stop by and see her two favorite siblings?" I gasp in mock offense once I'm released from the hug.

"We're your only siblings." Pietro reminds with a roll of his eyes.

"Besides, being undercover doesn't really allow time for social visits." Wanda points out. I only sigh. Sometimes she's too perceptive.

"It has to do with Brooklyn doesn't it?" Pietro asks while crossing his arms. As the only male heir of our father, Pietro is often included or informed of current affairs. Again, I sigh in defeat, though I shouldn’t be surprised he knows.

"Yeah, father called me in. This is a real shit show and I have a feeling this is just the beginning of it." I mutter distastefully.

They both nod in understanding, but Wanda looks equal parts sad and disappointed. But this is our life, we're used to it by now. Even though it's not always what we wish to have.

I gently smile before pulling them both into a big hug.

"Promise me you two will be careful out there?" Wanda tightens her grip on me.

"It's not us," She begins slowly. "Who you should be worried about." I chuckle dryly, knowing she's right, as I squeeze her back before pulling away from both of them.

"I suppose not. Still, I do. Now, I need to be going soon. I will see you both later." Pietro nods in acceptance, but Wanda let's her head droop slightly. I give her hand a tight squeeze before me and my bodyguards resume our way to where the cars are.

I climb back into the car that I came here in, and wait patiently for the driver and everyone to clamber in. The car is started but we remain idling sitting. As a way to occupy myself, I reach into the side door and feel for what I hid in there before I went in. When my fingers brush over the leather holster, I grab it and attach it, and the gun it holds, to a pocket on the inside of my leather jacket. When it's secure, I fold the jacket back over my chest, concealing the firearm in the process.

A muffled struggle echoes through the once silent garage.

"You want me to take care of that?" I ask the men who sit with me in the car, my fingers brushing over the spot in my jacket where my gun rests.

"Nah, I'll go check it out." One of my bodyguards, Mackenzie, or Mack as he's called, replies from the passenger seat.

"Of bloody course you'd be the first one of us lot to check it out." The driver, a Brit, by the name of Hunter scoffs.

Mack just shakes his head before he opens the door and leaves. When there's a few moments of silence after the car door is shut, that’s when Hunter speaks again.

"What are the odds of him bringing up something about needing that shotgun-axe again once he gets back in here?"

I chuckle and I see the shoulders of the person next to me move slightly.

"High." May, the bodyguard next to me and the one that I trust with mostly everything, responds with a slight edge of humor in her voice. Then she turns to me. "Boss, I was going to wait until we cleared the property,-"

"A good idea, May. I don't know much as of now, I can tell you that, but I'll tell the rest once we’re on the move."

She nods and the front passenger door opens at the same time.

"You'd think the men would know how to handle prisoners, like that one, by now." He grumbles as he settles into his seat. "I swear, one look at a shotgun-axe would scare the life out of those boys. Maybe they'd actually listen to simple instructions at that point."

We all the chuckle as the caravan of cars begins its trip out of the garage and to the warehouse. As we pull down the driveway, I reach into the pocket behind the passenger seat and pull out the object I stashed there and clip it inside my jacket, not too far from my gun. The gold of the badge reflects the light onto the side door while I begin to put on the mask that's essential for my survival out there in this scary world. The letters of F, B, and I revolve in my mind as I stare out the window at my former home. My life is a dangerous one and every aspect has a devastating risk with it.

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The warehouse is a dark place. Even if there is daylight present, streaming through the dirty frosted windows, a dark and dangerous feeling surrounds the place. It clings to it like the smell of a cigarette on clothes. For newcomers, like the prisoner that followed us in another van just a few behind our own, it's daunting. It's certain death. To me and my bodyguards, only our hairs stand on end in anticipation of what is to come.

I informed my guards of what I knew about the situation on the way here. A reverent silence filled the air at the mention of the late George Barnes' death. He treated his men well, was honest and loyal to his allies, and was a good man. Brooklyn and all of New York will miss him.

I stand in the empty warehouse floor, several paces in front of the unconscious prisoner, who's slumped against his restraints. Turns out the men are really in an impatient mood today. I cross my arms while I zone out observing him. Why did HYDRA do this? What did they gain? What's the bigger picture that I'm missing?

The faint sound of gravel crunching under tires drags me from my head and has me turning towards the opened garage-looking doors. Three black vans drive in and come to a stop not too far from the entrance. Father and Coulson are the first to step out from the center van. My siblings then file out from the one on the right. The rest of the men who were in the cars climb out and seem to form a barrier between the front entrance and the four people headed straight for me.

"I thought I would be receiving a phone call first." I give father a weary glance, noticing his seriousness about something.

"Change of plans." He answers swiftly, and rather seriously. I begin to grow uncomfortable.

The sound of more approaching vehicles has my eyes widening as I turn my curious and nervous expression on my father who gives me a reassuring nod.

"Fury." I hiss under my breath, not liking the idea of going into a situation blindly. He simply ignores me.

My focus is drawn back to the entrance as car doors closing harshly sound in my ears, though my gaze never wavers from my father's profile. A cadence of footsteps march across the unpaved driveway and into the warehouse, only pausing in front of the line of father's men. It's only when the footsteps draw nearer that I finally look at the party joining us.

My eyes widen, ever so slightly, at the sight of three imposing men nearing closer to where I stand. The man on my left is tall and broad-chested. His shiny blond hair reflects the dim light of the warehouse. His jawline is clean and sharp like a knife, adding to the dangerous air around him. The man in the center is just slightly shorter than the one on his left. A few strands of his long brown hair frame his face while, I assume, the rest is pulled back. However, the stubble on his face and those piercing blue eyes that I can see, even in the dim warehouse lighting, gives me an idea of who I’m dealing with. James “Bucky” Barnes. A man whose reputation for being a cold-blooded killer and a ladies’ man is very well known. However, any idea of seriousness is completely forgotten when I notice the man on my right, James’ left, who’s giving me a hard scowl. The familiar sight of the deep chocolate brown skin, hard eyes, and black hair puts me at ease. I could almost laugh at the situation.

“Samuel T. Wilson.” I chuckle when I see his eye twitch at the sound of his full name.

The trio stops not too far away from my father’s group and me. The sight of those two chocolate brown eyes, that look like they want to murder me, have me smirking.

“Special Agent Y/L/N of the FBI.” He growls, and I feel the tension in the room immediately spike. “I thought I saw the last of ya when I was let go.”

“You’re welcome for that, by the way.” Wilson scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. I also notice Barnes shifting in my periphery and sigh to myself as I think of how to reword things. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been let go so easily. There wasn’t any substantial evidence against you, but the other agents were going to keep you locked up to send a message. I let it slip to our boss, and he had a big problem with what they were doing. You were let free not too long after. So quit looking like you want to kill me, and maybe offer a ‘thank you’ instead.”

He goes to speak, but that’s when father decides to step in.

“Gentlemen, we came here to discuss a business transaction, not hash out the past. If you three would, follow me. Agent, you too. Son, keep the rest of our guests some company.” There are a series of soft grumbles and complaints, but ultimately, everyone listens.

When the three Brooklyn boys pass the now awake prisoner, his face turns a scary shade of white. And that’s considering the fact that he was already pale due to blood loss. I feel a shiver begin to creep down my spine, but I suppress it. I tell myself it’s because of the type of fear these men can instill, but deep down, I know that it was a low growl I heard somewhere over my shoulder.

Father takes us to one of the few offices in the warehouse and has me shut the door. Barnes sits in the chair across from Fury with both his men flanking either side of him. The only person at my father’s side is Coulson on the right, until I walk up to the vacant spot on my father’s left.

“I think proper introductions should be made before we begin talks.”

“I agree.” Barnes cuts in. “I didn’t realize this meeting would include a dirty Fed.”

I scoff but am interrupted before I can make any smart remark.

“This, gentlemen, is my eldest child. Y/N was the first I adopted and raised in this life. The only reason she is in the FBI is to help us deal with HYDRA.”

“HYDRA is everywhere.” I start explaining. “Like cockroaches in an old building. The only way to make sure every loose end has been tied up is to have all the information. There’s no better way to do it.”

“Hold up. I thought your last name was ‘Y/L/N’.” This time, Wilson interrupts.

“A cover, obviously. If the FBI learned of my ties to the Underworld or to my father, it would be worse than if they thought I was just corrupt.”

“The point is that Y/N will be passing on any information she learns about HYDRA and their plot.”

“I’ll also be keeping a very close eye on anything that may have to do with what happened to your father.” At the mention of him, I see James’ lips twitch slightly while the furrow of his brow deepens. “I am sorry for what happened to him. Your father was a great and very well-respected man.”

The only sign of acknowledgement I get from the new leader of the Brooklyn clan is a slight nod of his head, and I begin to grow uncomfortable in the silence that follows. Luckily, a phone ringing stops the awkwardness from becoming worse. However, it’s not just any phone. It’s my phone. I quickly snatch it from one of the pockets of my leather jacket and glance at the screen.

“It’s my boss.” I inform before answering. “This is Y/L/N. Yes, sir. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” He hangs up. “I’m being called in. Send me the rest of the details later.” My father nods as he motions for me to leave. Before I do, I look over the three new faces and say in the most professional tone I can gather, “It was nice to properly meet you, gentlemen. I look forward to working with you.”

Without waiting for a reply from one of my father’s, hopefully, new allies to say anything, I hurry around the desk and out of the office. Once Hunter receives the word to get the car ready, I tuck my phone away again.

As I leave the warehouse, goosebumps prickle my skin. Not because it’s cold, or because I’m scared, but because of the pressure that’s suddenly fallen around my shoulders. This attack, this changes everything. HYDRA has always threatened the clans, carried out small or petty attacks, but they have never directly attacked the families. The death of George Barnes is only the catalyst.

A war is coming, and blood will be spilled. But how prepared am I for what I expect to come?

Part 2

#hbc bucky barnes appreciation days #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #marvel #mob!bucky #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky x female reader #mobster bucky #bucky barnes au

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youtuberswithalex · 4 years

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Aight Imma do a rundown, the others will add on when they’re out

Alter: Alex Mettleson

-Age: 22 (Aging linearly) -Formed: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Been around for a while. Been the host since 2016 after he and Emmy split in half, so technically since 2013-ish? -Theme color: Blue (although Red’s been coming WAY high up on his favorite list since starting his Youtube stuff) -Career choice: Youtube! -Side most like: Logan -Queer stuff: Trans, aroace! -Fun facts about him: Only one who’s out during Phi Mu Alpha stuff, and the only one who “knows” anything of it in the system!

Alter: Emmy Seymour

-Age: 20 (Aging linearly; originally the same age as Alex, but when they split, she went dormant until 2019, so she’s two years younger now, but they still call themselves twins) -Formed: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Again, been co-host since last summer, but technically since 2013-ish -Theme color: Pink!!! But she also really loves yellow -Career choice: Artist~ -Side most like: Roman -Queer stuff: HUGE LESBIAN -Fun facts about her: Chose her birthday to be the same day as the NASA moon mission because she loves space, and, coincidentally, we got to celebrate her first birthday on the day of the 50th anniversary!

Alter: Turner Imin (that’s me!)

-Age: 23 (Aging linearly) -Formed: 2003/2004-ish? -Theme color: Greeeeeeen -Career choice: I’d love to be a park ranger, but god knows the body could not handle that, nor could all the alters after we had a traumatizing hiking situation (not like, getting attacked by a bear, but we were hiking for like two days on a church mission trip, and we got severely dehydrated and nearly had to go to the hospital, and we had severe panic attacks on the nights we had to camp out, so. Yeah. Honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. I just like being able to hang out with Alex again) -Side most like: R E M U S -Queer stuff: Bi, or something. Also this doesn’t technically go in this category, but I know it causes a lot of confusion-- I’m a girl. (I think.) Always have been a cis girl. My name’s Turner because I named myself after our 1st Grade teacher, and we didn’t know it was a boy’s name until, like, 6th grade, at which point I was too attached to it to change it. I might be an enby, I dunno. Maybe it’s just because of Emmy being so femme, but. I’m a girl, I go by she/her pronouns forever -Fun facts about her: I was the first alter to form! I’ve been around for, like, ever. Alex and I grew up together, and when he was “””too old””” for “””imaginary friends””” he made me a character in a lot of his stories, so if you see me in some of his old fics, that’s why!

Edit: OH ALSO I ALMOST FORGOT WE’RE SPECULATING THAT I HAVE BIPLOAR DISORDER AND AM A TRAUMA HOLDER WHUPAH *finger guns*

Alter: Eddie

-Age: 16 (permanent age... for now) -Formed: 2011-ish? -Theme color: Red or black and white -Career choice: “I don’t fucking know, I’m a goddamn teenager, what do you want from me? I want to fucking exist” -Side most like: Virgil -Queer stuff: N/A -Fun facts about him: He’s got a tongue piercing, and when he aged up from 14 to 16 last November, he went from being a cute kid version of Alex to this sick punk kid (and grew into himself a lot)

Alter: Evan Polters

-Age: 38 (permanent age) -Formed: Late 2019 -Theme color: Black/white (mostly white) -Career choice: Doctor (Medical practitioner, specifically) -Side most like: Logan. Hands down -Queer stuff: I think he’s gay? I dunno. He’s a single dad and doesn’t talk about having any partners or anything -Fun facts about him: He’s British and is in charge of our hygiene. The first thing he did after forming was take over and make the body brush its teeth for the first time in months. That was fun to explain to our therapist

Alter: Boulos

-Age: ????? Maybe ageless??? -Formed: Late 2019 -Theme color: Purple? -Career choice: Philosopher -Side most like: Deceit -Queer stuff: N/A -Fun facts about him: He’s the first Alter that gave us a SUCKY split. Spent the whole night trembling and having horrible anxiety, until we got a bad headache and then there he was! Took him a long time to settle on a name, too. Liked Boulos bc he wanted a “Paul” name and it’s the Arabic version of that (iirc). Also based his appearance off of the name, so, dude’s Middle Eastern

There’s two more that don’t want to be introduced, but, those are the main ones for now, I guess. We had some others in the past, and we’re still learning more about the system (There are definitely others that Alex hasn’t met yet), but, like I said, we’ll update this as people want to. Hope you like the intro!

-Turner :P

#alter talk #alter introduction #osdd #system talk #turner talks

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polar-stars · 4 years

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Some Notes on what the grown-ups are up to...(Part 1 | SnKimiko Related)

So hey, I am not quite tired yet but too tired to draw so welp, I guess we’re doing this instead.

Honestly, recently I’ve realized that I haven’t really explored the careers the canon characters pursue within in my Next Gen Fanfic. Which is mainly because I honestly haven’t thought that much about it but rather only ever held some rough ideas. There’s reasoning to that but that mainly has to do with myself but I don’t have to get into that in detail now. It’s a lot about the fact that I’m still a pretty young person with not the best understanding of how the world works yet...but I’m working on it!

So meep, I thought I could write down some actual notes for some info regarding what the canon characters are up to when “Shokugeki no Kimiko” takes place. I’m still a little unsure about them (so don’t be surprised if I eventually change things up later), so I’d gladly appreciate feedback honestly!

Anyway, that lengthy intro aside...let’s get into it, I guess ; 7 ;

Megumi

Megumi Aldini-Tadokoro, formerly just Tadokoro, lives in her hometown in Tohoku and took over the position as it’s head-chef after her mother retired. The news that a Totsuki graduate, and not just any graduate but a former Elite 10 member, took over the Ryokan certainly drove a lot of people to the place.

Megumi’s wisdom regarding hospitality and her outstanding talents in the culinary field ultimately improved the tourism of the region immensely. The Ryokan is praised for the traditional Japanese atmosphere, exquisite food and, of course, the welcoming atmosphere and the warmth with which the guests are welcomed with.

Given that her priorities are certainly the customers and building a relationship with them even if it is for only one day, Megumi always resigned off from opening another restaurant. She can’t be at all at the same time after all and in her mind it would make everything less personal. However it’s at a time where Megumi already earned a name for herself and instead of mocking her decision as “too limited” or “not enough vision”, she’s respected by the culinary world.

Despite the fact though that the Ryokan is her prime focus, she does help out her husband Isami with new recipe ideas or other advice for the Trattoria-Aldini-Branch whenever he asks her. She does help out in the restaurants themselves as well, once or twice a year. Which is always made out to be a great deal.

She often gets invited to various hotels throughout a year and occassionally, she’ll take the offer and arranges a special banquet for one night for the hotel’s guests to enjoy. It’s certainly always an event to behold and something that every hotel, she’s served so far, wears with pride.

She’s mother to three children, two sons and one daughter. The oldest son, Hiroshi Aldini-Tadokoro, is a current higschool first year in Totsuki and a member of the 115th Generation. Her two twin-children Nino and Maja Aldini-Tadokoro still visit a primary school in the local area. They will be part of the future 119th Generation of Totsuki.

Takumi

Takumi Aldini lives in Tuscany and is the head-chef of the original “Trattoria Aldini” where he grew up in. But it’s not just that...

With the help of his business-knowledgeable wife Ikumi and of course his loyal brother Isami, Takumi build a successful brand out of the Trattoria which expands all over the world, having restaurants in almost every noteworthy city. It’s, additionally, kept affordable. It’s not something that the normal middle-class man can eat in each and everyday but it certainly is something he can go to once in a while.

Takumi is managing the restaurants within the West, so mainly Europe and America. (Isami is taking care of the restaurants in the East)

At the same time, the original Trattoria keeps him busy as well given that as the first and original Trattoria it has a bit of a cult-status and is on every tourist’s To-Do list that comes into the area. Whenever Isami and his family come over to Tscany, things become even more lively as many foodies would kill for the opportunity to see the infamous Aldine-Family and especially the Mezzaluna-Siblings in action.

Takumi has one daughter with Ikumi: Mika Aldini, a student of Totsuki’s 115th Generation.

Alice

After her cousin Erina vanished alongside Soma, the Totsuki-Empire was eventually laid into the hands of the so-often-overlooked Alice Nakiri, making her the new headmistress of Totsuki once Senzaemon retired.

There were a few doubtful voices regarding Alice’s Election as new head of this enormous branch, as so many had always pictured Erina in that position. But over time, these voice where shut down as Alice managed to fulfill her job pretty well. Some of her strategies or ideas might sound eccentric or unconditional at first, but there’s always logic and a certain wisdom to them. Also, Alice always had a great understanding of what she wants and how to get it which does make her a solid, cunning and to-beware negotiator.

She also does a lot for the intellectual part of Totsuki by expanding it’s library, funding research projects in fields other than strictly cooking, diversify the range of languages taught on Totsuki...etc.

As her profession as Totsuki’s headmistress consumes her quite a bit, Alice was only able to open two restaurants: one in Tokyo, called “Snestorm” and one in Copenhagen, called “Yukidoke”. Both are reservation-only places where she serves her experimental and unique culinary ideas. Snestorm is more focused on Western ideas, so to speak, while Yukidoke is more Eastern-orientated.

She has two twin-daughters with her husband Ryo: Lola Nakiri and Mona Nakiri, both members of the 115th Generation of Totsuki. She and her family definitely remain the apex of Japan’s culinary landscape. They host a yearly Summer-Ball which is one of the grandest, biggest and most anticipated events for any person worth their salt within the culinary industry.

Akira

With the reputation of having survived Totsuki and ending up amongst the 10 best students backing him up, Akira opens four highly-successful restaurants over the years between his graduation from Totsuki and the current timeline of “Shokugeki no Kimiko”. Currently, he’s outlining plans for a restaurant in the US.

His first is called “Sona” and is located in Tokyo and also known as Akira’s “main restaurant” so to speak. Over the years it has grown into a small palace and its one of pricey but also praised restaurants within the city. Quite a few rich ladies would die to have their wedding taking place there, as one certainly feels like some sort-off Mid-East royal stepping into the place.

The second is called “Signum” and is located in Singapore. What’s special about this restaurant is that the menu changes drastically every year. The concept is basically that each year, Signum serves a different kind of cuisine. One year it’s Thai, the other it’s Indian, then it’s Turkish, then Malaysian and so on. Akira announces this year’s menu on each New Years Party hosted by the Hayamas in Sona.

The third is called “Solaris” and is located in Kairo. Akira got inspired to open it, because of his son’s enthusiasm regarding travels to Egypt. It serves mainly all different sorts of curry but also various specialities of Mid-Eastern cuisines.

The fourth is called “Lilac Garden” and it’s the first one to not start with an “S” and this one is more dedicated to his daughter. It’s located in Herakleion on Kreta. It’s honestly a bit more of a café and has a truly beautiful pavilion that offers an enchanting look on the sea. What’s noteworthy is that the entire place is decorated with all sorts of flowers.

Aside from being busy with restaurants, Akira does actually time to time support Alice’s more academic advances in Totsuki by teaching seminars. It’s a rare occurrence but whenever he does, a broad number of students come rushing.

He also found himself a little hobby in a little side-business as perfumer. Originally, he only wanted to construct a perfume for his wife Hisako as a little surprise for an anniversary and ended up thinking: “Why not make some money out of this?” While the perfume for Hisako of course is a Hisako-Only-Creation that will never make it into the public hands, he did bring 3 other perfumes to the market that sell pretty well.

Akira has two children with Hisako, a son and a daughter. The son, Akio Hayama, is part of the 114th Generation and a member of Totsuki’s current Elite 10. The daughter, Kaori Hayama, is part of the 115th Generation as well as it’s valedictorian.

#meep I tried ovo;;#I also wanted to do Hisako and Ryo...but now I did end up tired #but it would mean the world to me if any of you gave it a read ; 7 ;#I really hope I did okay #Shokugeki no Soma #Shokugeki no Kimiko Stuffz #Megumi Tadokoro #IsaMegu #Takumi Aldini #TakuIku #Alice Nakiri #RyoAli #Akira Hayama #AkiSako

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vmfx · 3 years

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WE DON’T DO THAT HERE.

I just disclosed to all of my co-workers that I have a radio show. They all seem very enthusiastic and extremely positive about it. For that I am very lucky because every day I work with them they usually have nothing good to say. They are the 17 to 25 crowd running on alcoholic fumes, weekend bars, Androids, Yankee games, hanging with “the guys”, and typical basic girls. So it comes as no surprise as to what their mentality is.

When I say they’re enthusiastic, I mean that they light up. They light up with an obvious hard-on because at first they think I’m on a big-name radio station and I play the hottest in Top 40 and pop. “It’s not like that. I dee-jay for a college station” I tell them. But that’s OK. They still think it’s awesome that I play music over the air and emanate their rooms, car stereos, and laptops. Then come the same questions I get asked every week because either someone new discovers what I do or they easily forget and we needlessly re-start the same conversation all over again. Or they’re trolling.

“What time do you go on?” “What music do you play?” “Are you on every week?” “Where is the radio station you DJ at?” “Do you go on the mic and talk?” “How long are you on for?” “Do you take requests?” “Do you do shout-outs?” These are valueless questions I normally don’t answer to because I can’t be bothered with them; questions asked in an obvious kindergarten fascination that I rather not waste my time with and would rather move on without having to focus on such intellectual mediocrity. In fact, the answers to all of these questions can be answered by simply listening to my show. There.

One of my co-workers decides he wants to be funny and impress his friends. He asks me if I ever do my “radio” voice on the air, and then proceeds give it his best attempt at it:

“This…is…Dee Jay _______…on 107.5…FM…WQXZ, New York! Playing…the…hottest hits. Ten. In a row. Non-stop!”

Heads up to no one in particular: it’s nice for people and friends to approach me and be interested in what I do, and I appreciate it. I really do. And then there are those who are into it but then proceed to define me by impersonating their best stereotypical zesty action-packed radio voice, complete with man-made astro-blaster laser sound effects from an action-figure maturity.

Please stop. It’s not funny, you’re not funny, and no one is laughing. That’s not what happens on my show. All I do is play music and be myself as usual. That’s all. It’s not WBLI, Z100, or Now FM if that’s what you were thinking. And since it’s not right to try and define who you think I am to satisfy your piss-poor expectations, I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if I defined your life by pointing out your poor choice of clothing, your lack of real understanding, your never-ending stupidity, why your parents still make your bed, or why you have been dateless all your life.

Another pointless obstacle course I had to go through was that another co-worker tried guessing what music I play on my show in the form of a yes-or-no question-and-answer session. My previous answer of “a lot of music you wouldn’t like or tolerate” and “anything that’s not mainstream” wasn’t good enough for him to comprehend to avoid this altogether. So our little elfin pretend game-show host, who is 23 but looks like he is 11, plays this game with me.

“Now, I’m going to tell you an artist or band name and you tell me if you would play it. Ready?”

“Sure.” I say with some hesitation and an exasperated breath, knowing exactly how this is going to go. Lord help me.

“Metallica.”

“No.”

“Bon Jovi.”

“No.”

“Kid Cudi?”

“No.”

“Whitney Houston?”

“No.”

“Justin Beiber?”

“No.”

“Ozzy?”

“No.”

“Taylor Swift?”

“No.”

“Adele?”

“No.”

“Drake?”

“No.”

“David Bowie?”

“Hmmm…”

“Ahhh! There’s a maybe! “Linkin Park?”

“Stop.”

“Chris Brown?”

“Stop?”

“Rick Astley?”

“NO. Stop.”

This was what I went through a couple of days ago. He was fully aware what I play on-air not only because I told him before but also I sent him the link to my show. But when you’re the department comedian, you need to depend on your co-workers for everyone’s amusement. So you blow right through convenience and force uncomfortable interactions for laughs at someone’s expense. He instead ended up giving me a list of artists I wouldn’t dare touch or even infect our studio’s CD drives, turntables, or computers with. And he knows this.

**********

My show states what I play: “punk, hardcore, female, grrl, electronics, hip-hop, hipster, trendy, art, industrial, breakbeats, experimental, techno, spoken word, rare Seventies, drum and bass, reggae, lo-fi, and even noise”. It also says “no Top 40, no Billboard, no pop, no American Idol, no Nielsen Ratings, no Clear Channel.” Why would I waste my time playing artists that are already being played ad nauseum on pop stations, car commercials, malls, restaurants, movies, and soda ads millions of times over? And why would I have to explain myself to people who clearly don’t deserve it?

It’s simple. On my show I play everything other stations and outlets won’t. Being it’s a college radio station, we don’t get money from corporate sponsors but instead grass-roots community members, students, administration, and other people listening in around the world to donate money to us. That means we are not told what to play, rather we play whatever we want, artists who otherwise have almost zero chance of getting airplay. I can actually educate my listeners by playing Merzbow, Einsturzende Neubauten, Sonic Youth, or Aphex Twin instead of brainwashing them. So, why would I waste valuable airtime on artists who already have endless amounts of it?

Another thing: requests. I don’t ask for them and I won’t play them. Why would I jeopardize the show’s good looks if someone asks me to play Nickelback when I play music like Crystal Castles, Cold Cave, The Dead Boys, and Death Grips? Where does some sappy commercial band that millions of people have on their death list have its place on my show? I want my listeners to enjoy my show and support me, not blacklist it and send me death threats.

Even more ridiculous are the dedications. Please. I prevent this from happening. I don’t want my show responsible for some trailer-park love-in somewhere in Alabama which produces five awkward results. Having me to say their subtle Valentine’s messages on-air with “cute” pet names is not cute at all. It makes my show turn into the Ryan Seacrest Hour. When that happens, I’ll fold this show and deny it ever existed.

Yes, I do understand that artists eat and need to keep on going to make a living. Once in a while I get unsolicited messages from bands that have absolutely nothing to do with the music I play. Just pass “GO” and collect your $200. Just because I play “everything” doesn’t mean I will since there are specifics. Even worse, a Dave Matthews’ cover band somewhere in the middle of Long Island, that aspires to be something else they’ll never be and tries to ride (no, suck it like a leach) the wave of popularity by holding actual music instruments while being incapable of writing original material will never make the cut. On another note…

“Check us out! We’re a four-piece homegrown funk-soul-band from somewhere in New Jersey and we’ve been compared to 311 and Smashmouth…”

...and that is where I hit the delete button. I don’t like it when music comes to me, I like it when I come to music unless I ask for it. I don’t like to feel obligated in having to play your music or worse having it forced down my throat Linda Lovelace-style. I don’t want your obsolete already-done jam-funk music and double that if it’s from the late 90’s (because who here thinks the late 90’s was the worst time for new music ever?) I don’t ever want your low-resolution color-copy pixilated artwork with your homemade CD-R with paper decal. In fact, why am I still on MySpace? That was so 2006.

**********

It’s been a month since the start of my on-going show and my co-workers are getting very tiresome. The same questions over and over again and not once has anyone tuned in. Not that I don’t want them to tune in or even care if they listen, but what’s the point in wasting time if people who are interested in something don’t do it? That’s why I decided to no longer talk to them about my show. I’m only wasting my breath, time, and energy. You can’t declare to do something and not do it. That’s how people take points away from you.

And as always, the instant I declare that I will no longer bother in discussing my show anymore, another moron standing right next to me starts asking questions again. “What is your show called?” “What time is it on?” “What number is it?” Perhaps it is best not to have certain people listening in. Even better, it’s best not to converse with them.

#VMFX #writers on Tumblr #personal #LOL #WTF #Long Island #radio #music

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an-ambivalent · 5 years

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Over Love Over Their Lives [Yandere! Hikaru Hitachiin]

Warning: As this is yandere fiction, this deals with harmful behaviours that can be uncomfortable and triggering to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional, I do not condone this behaviour irl.

Also, this work is rather old so please excuse the rustiness of it. Lmao tbh I don’t even remember the plot of this so have fun 😂

His amber eyes narrowed into a glare filled with repulsion and indignation as he watched her communicate flirtatiously with another man. They were sitting on one of the furthest tables towards the corner. This ideal spot hid them from the sights of the rowdy students in the school cafeteria, and gave them the space for privacy that they-- she desired. The ideal spot was where not the other man, but Hikaru was meant to be sitting, and many others before him had sat.

He watched her like a hawk, her being [Name] [Surname].

He watched her as she suggestively moved her fingers up Kyoya’s arm (a host like Hikaru himself) and puckered her red painted lips seductively. Her lips were painted with a specific red liquid lipstick product that she had eagerly bought with Hikaru. Not only was Hikaru the one who bought it for her, but he was also the first one to taste it from her lips and smudge it her skin. He was the only one who deserved to see her wear such a bold and alluring colour. But that was not the worst part.

The worst part was that with every intimate action she subtly took towards Kyoya, she did not look at him.

She looked at Hikaru and watched him watch her be affectionate towards another man. While she did so, her eyes sparkled with amusement and mockery as if she was doing this solely because she knew that it would piss Hikaru off.

Hikaru might have had established himself as the authority in their relationship, but she seemed to be the actual player who broke all the established rules and made her own the way she saw fit, to play the authority.

Hikaru felt a burning sensation in his chest and his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance as thoughts clouded his mind. He knew he should NOT have pursued her in the first place. She was bad news and had, what one might label as ‘a reputation.’ But he could not help himself. She was just so cute and irresistible.

That made him wonder, did all those she dated before him were bothered and played with like he was? Or did she torment each victim of her love differently every single time?

He did not know. He also did not know that his jealousy was obvious to the point where his fists were clenched until they were extremely white, and he was squishing the food tray in his hands so tightly that its condition was worsening and people were beginning to give him strange stares.

He watched as Kyoya turned towards [Name] with a fake smile, which he directed towards her as a warning to back off. And when he did, the [h/c] female averted her eyes away from Hikaru and smiled sweetly at Kyoya as she blinked her eyes innocently and disguised her previous actions as unintentional. Then, she uttered something to Kyoya that Hikaru could not hear or comprehend. However, Hikaru did comprehend the fact that she was beginning to treat him like an used old toy; she ignored him when she became bored of him.

He was not going to have that.

“Hikaru, you look like you are ready to kill. Everyone’s even staring. Calm down,” Kaoru said, as he walked behind his twin, and settled a hand on his shoulder.

Hikaru flickered his eyes towards Kaoru before he narrowed them towards [Name] and Kyoya. Kaoru followed the direction of his stare and when he realized what, or in this instance who had Hikaru riled up, he sighed.

“Hikaru, I hope you trust Kyoya enough to know that he would never show interest in someone like [Name], who does not only have a reputation, but is also your ex. He’s with her strictly due to the demands made by his father in order to finalise a business deal with her family,” Kaoru said, his eyebrows furrowed together in concern, as he glanced at Hikaru.

Hikaru turned towards Kaoru with an indifferent expression. “She’s not my ex. We are just in an open relationship,” He replied, gritting his teeth.

Kaoru’s eyebrow twitched and he was about to correct his twin. However, when he noticed the anguished expression on Hikaru’s face who fixated his gaze on [Name], Kaoru decided against it. Instead, he took more of a subtle approach.

“She’s in an open relationship with like four other guys and she hasn’t talked to them since she dated them for a week and left them unhea-” Kaoru began, but he was interrupted by Hikaru, who turned to him with a harsh glare.

“We’re different!” He snapped loudly. The vexation in his expression, body language and in the tone of his voice surprised Kaoru, and the said twin’s eyes widened impossibly huge. The reaction evoked on Kaoru’s face was a surprise itself to Hikaru because he instantly snapped out of his anger trance.

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to apologize, when he felt holes being dug on his back. This caused him to turn towards the source to realize that his outburst had caused everyone in the cafe to direct their stares at him. Hikaru felt a shiver run through him at the unwanted attention he had received, especially when he shifted his gaze to [Name] to notice that she was staring at him too, and not in a friendly way.

“I, uh,” Hikaru started, nervousness seeping into his system, as he licked his lips with a dry tongue.

“I need to go!” He exclaimed, before he ran out of the cafeteria in a rush. When this happened, Kaoru overcame his shocked state. He was about to call out to his other half, but decided not to as Hikaru was out of the cafeteria and his words would have been left unheard. However, that did not mean that the students in the cafeteria shared his perceptive. Whispers, exclaims, and gossip was uttered out of one pair of lips and then another, until the silence of the cafe was broken due to the loudness of the hushed whispers. Some whispers were of shock, but most were filled with horrible things proclaimed about Hikaru.

Kaoru did not take this well. So, in order to defend his missing twin, he turned towards [Name] and walked up to her.

His face was calm. However, his mind was anything but the calm before the storm -- it was a hurricane of fury.

“[Name],” Kaoru called, and narrowed his eyes at her.

The [h/c] female returned his unwelcoming approach with an apathetic expression of her own.

“Kaoru,” She answered.

“Don’t you think you should have some decency and talk to Hikaru? After all, you were the cause of what just happened,” He said, glaring at her.

[Name] scoffed at him.

“I wasn’t the cause. It’s not my fault your brother is an amateur in dealing with his emotions and blew up. You are even doing the talking for him. If he has something to say, he can talk to me himself because I have nothing to say to him. It’s going to be too awkward, and I am going to avoid putting myself in that situation,” She replied, and folded her hands over her chest.

“You know, if those words weren’t coming out of your mouth I would have agreed. But they are, so I disagree. And the fact of the matter is, your open relationship game isn’t fooling anyone. I know what you are up to, and I’m not going to let you make a fool out of my brother. You are going to find him this instant and come clean. No games, nothing. Do I make myself clear?” Kaoru said seriously.

[Name] glared at him.

“I was actually busy with Kyo-”

“Actually, we are just about finished with everything. We have a few things left but I can discuss that with your father instead. You should find Hikaru,” Kyoya said, interrupting [Name], who turned to him with a surprised look on her face.

The Ootori was merely grinning. If this was an anime, one would see his glasses glint white to indicate that he was up to something.

[Name] glared at him and she opened her mouth to reply wittily. However, the direction of commotion had turned from Hikaru to [Name],Kaoru and Kyoya and they were being watched by many curious gazes.

The [h/c] female inwardly winced at the stares and she snapped her glare towards Kaoru, who smirked in triumph.

“Fine, whatever,” She said, scowling, as she turned away from the two hosts, and power walked out of the cafeteria.

***

Preciously, twenty minutes had passed. In these twenty minutes, [Name] had strolled through the school hallways in order to find Hikaru. Except that, she walked extremely slow and did not put in an actual effort to find him.

As she continued her ‘search,’ she wore a bored look on her face. But moments later, her phone rang for a second indicating that she had received a text message or a notification. This caused her to halt and she stood in front of the entrance to an empty classroom that she was going to walk past. She took out her phone from her pocket and unlocked it to see she had received a text that read: Were you at the library? Because I was checking you out ;D

“Wow what an original pick up line. This one is going to be a waste of time. But I guess, for now, I could play along,” [Name] mumbled as she began to tap her fingers against the screen to form a response. However, just as she started typing, she was forced to stop.

An arm wrapped around her waist and viciously pulled her backwards in the empty classroom behind her. This unexpected action caused [Name]’s eyes to widen, and she opened her mouth to scream. But she was unable to, as a hand covered her mouth. Additionally, the shock from this unanticipated action caused her to drop her phone.

As soon as she was pulled inside, the hands that held on to her, released their grip and pushed her further into the classroom harshly. Then, the offender settled one of their hands on the door knob and slammed it shut.

[Name] yelped as she moved her arms frantically in the air in order to regain her balance. Then, she turned towards the offender with irritation written all over her face.

“Hey! Watch-” She began furiously, but stopped when she saw it was Hikaru. The mentioned male was glancing out of the window which was beside the door to make sure there were no witnesses. Then, he drew the curtains, and scanned the teacher’s card against the door which locked it.

He put the card in his school uniform’s shirt pocket and turned towards [Name]. His eyes were were narrowed and his lips were formed in a straight line.

“Was I a ‘play along’ too?” Hikaru asked, and took a step towards [Name].

His entire aura screamed danger but [Name] simply ignored this. Instead, she wore an indifferent expression and folded her arms over her chest.

“You know the answer to that. You know I don’t like repeating myself,” She stated, narrowing her eyes at him.

Hikaru strode so he was standing immensely close to [Name]. Their bodies were brushing together and he glanced down at her in aggravation.

“You didn’t answer my question,” He hissed, lifted his hand, and grabbed her jaw tightly.

[Name] did not flinch. However, she did glance down at his hand, and then at him, before she glared at him.

“Let me go Hikaru,” She demanded.

“And what if I don’t?” Hikaru said, as he tilted her head upwards, and leaned closer to her face. His lips were formed in a smirk.

“I won’t love you anymore. You don’t want that do you? For me to stop loving you? After all, I’m the only one who can truly make you happy. You don’t want to lose me, do you?” [Name] said, as she wrapped an arm around Hikaru’s neck, and grabbed his tie with her other hand. She pulled him closer to her and sensually kissed his lips.

Hikaru’s eyes widened and he was about to return her kiss, when [Name] pulled away. This caused him to growl in irritation.

“Don’t tease me,” He whispered, as he leaned to connect their lips but failed to do so because [Name] put her hand to his mouth.

He glanced at it, then at her, before he glared at her.

She smiled sweetly at him.

“Classes are about to begin soon. We shouldn’t proceed with this any further,” She said, and pecked his lips.

Hikaru closed his eyes to relish in the feeling of her soft lips against his. And this time, when [Name] tried to pull away, he refused to let her go. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her waist, and forcefully brought her closer so her body was completely flushed against his. Simultaneously, his grip on her jaw tightened. This caused [Name]’s eyes to widen as she gasped in pain. She began to push against Hikaru in order to break away from his imprisoning embrace. However, her efforts were fruitless, and instead, Hikaru took advantage of the situation, and inserted his tongue in her mouth, kissing her hungrily.

A few minutes passed which consisted of Hikaru forcing himself on [Name] and the girl jittering in uncomfort. Their lungs began to beg for oxygen, and Hikaru finally pulled back from the vicious kiss. When he did so, a trail of saliva connected their lips. [Name] leaned against Hikaru tiredly as she tried to catch her breath. He was in a similar position to her, except his grip on her never loosened so when she tried to escape again, she failed.

“Stop struggling, it’s useless. I’m not going to let you go,” Hikaru began, as he recovered his breath, stood up fully and pulled [Name] along with him.

She did not give him a response, and instead tried to free herself once more. This caused Hikaru to sigh as he tightened his grip on her as a warning.

“Stop retaliating! We have barely even started and you are already behaving this way. For someone who sleeps around with a new man every week this shouldn’t be a big deal for you… Unless, you’re a virgin?” Hikaru said, looking down at [Name] with wide eyes and a cheshire grin.

[Name] froze. Her expression transformed from irritation and disgust from Hikaru’s previous actions into fear for her safety. More so, when he leaned down and blew a breath of warm air onto her neck, and smiled sadistically.

He nipped at it and [Name] whimpered.

“After all, I do recall that we never did anything when we were together so I doubt you did anything with the others. I get the pleasure to be your first and only,” He whispered sensually, as he settled one of his hands underneath her uniform dress.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for playing you. Please don’t do this. I’ll be better I swear. I won’t see anyone--” She cried, tightening her grip on Hikaru, as his hand began to trail up her leg. However, he cut her off.

“Hush, sweetie,” He whispered, and he pecked her lips in order to interrupt her.

“What’s done is done, and what is written to happen will happen. First, you are going to pay for what you did with your body. Then, others, one by one, will pay for ever even glancing in your direction.

“Our love will thrive over their lives and they will be nothing but dead bodies six feet under ground with maggots crawling through their eyes.

“You are mine, forever.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hikaru #yandere imagines #yandere ouran high school host club #yandere ohshc #yandere hikaru x reader #hikaru x reader #ohshc x reader #ohshc imagines #ouran high school host club #ouran high school host club imagines #obsession #possession #possessive #anime x reader #jealousy #ambivalent writes

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backofthebookshelf · 5 years

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Book Recs for Magnus Archives Fans

I was just rambling in tags the other day about how my avatarsona was "the Archivist, but a public librarian: Oh, you like dirt?? Let me tell you all the dirt stories I have!!!!" so, uh, here I am I guess.

I'm gonna spare you all the M.R. James and Algernon Blackwood and House of Leaves and Blindsight; you know all that already. These are my horror backlist recs.

The Bone Key by Sarah Monette Y'all. Y'ALL. Kyle Murchison Booth was absolutely the Archivist before Gertrude. He was poached from the Parrington by the Usher Foundation and the Eye glommed onto him at once, because the Eye loves disaster queers who can't people right (and also Gertrude). This I believe to be true, and so will you.

Kyle Murchison Booth is an archivist at the Parrington Museum, which is somewhere in New England, sometime in the early twentieth century. He also has a lifelong entanglement with the supernatural which is almost entirely not his fault, and he would very much like it to stop, but he also feels responsible and he can't just let evil mirrors and cursed necklaces and possessed dressing gowns randomly eat people who have no idea what's happening. Even if it means he's going to suffer for it.

(This collection doesn't contain all of the Booth stories, so here I am going to link to "White Charles", which happens to be my very favorite Booth story.)

For you if your favorite part is: honestly everything about MAG, from the modern sensibilities about early twentieth-century-horror, truly eerie ghost stories, to suffering eldritch librarians (thanks to whoever tagged my most recent fic with that you're so valid), monsterfucking and soft gay pining. No happy endings here, sorry.

Bedfellow by Jeremy C. Shipp You may or may not have heard that Macmillan-Tor is launching a horror imprint, and I don't know how long it's been since a major publishing house has had a horror imprint, but I am EXCITE. This book is part of the trend that's the reason why: Tor.com has been publishing these kickass novellas for a couple years now, and their horror books are top notch.

One night a stranger knocks on a family's living room window and asks to be invited in. They ask him to stay the night. He's an old friend, after all, he needs a place to stay. You can't kick out your twin brother when he's just gotten divorced, no matter how much Gatorade he spills on your two-year-old hardwood floors.

For you if your favorite part is: the Stranger, this is all Stranger, it's terrifying and good.

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll A graphic novel, some of these were originally posted as webcomics (have you seen His Face All Red, and if not, why not???) and the only disadvantage to having them in book form is they can't blink at you. Probably. Very folktale-ish, with all the death and violence that implies, and also the slightly eerie feeling that you know this story already, and then it turns around and slaps you.

For you if your favorite part is: looking over your shoulder when the foley gets good; Once Upon a Time in Space (I know that's not technically part of the Magnus Archives but shush)

Universal Harvester by John Darnielle I am not usually a fan of artists who jump media. Just because you can write songs doesn't mean you can write novels. Apparently writing good songs doesn't mean you can't write good novels, though, because John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats (pretty sure that's his full name at this point) wrote Universal Harvester and I love him for it.

Jeremy works at a video rental place in Nevada, Iowa (it's pronounced Nah-vey-da, and yes it’s real, I've been there, and yes, it's probably haunted). It's the 1990s, and someone's been returning their VHS tapes with something on them that isn't just the movie. Footage that includes a barn that he recognizes, just outside of town.

Fair warning: this is not the kind of mystery that gets tied up in a nice bow at the end.

For you if your favorite part is: Jon losing it with paranoia in S2, The People's Church of the Divine Host, the Lonely

The Good House by Tananarive Due If this author's name is unfamiliar to you, RUN, do not walk, to your nearest internet bookseller and purchase every single one of her books immediately, you will not regret it. She also just came out with a documentary on black horror, Horror Noire, on the Shudder streaming service. They've got a free month if you aren't a horror movie person, it'd be worth your while. This book summary sounds like it's full of tropes. It is, but Due has the cred to write them well.

Angela Toussaint hopes to salvage her suffering marriage and her troubled relationship with her teenage son with a trip to her grandmother's house, a home so beloved the locals in small-town Washington state call it "The Good House," but tragedy strikes instead. Two years later she returns and finds that the tragedy isn't over, and it's not going to stop on its own.

For you if your favorite part is: the very practical statement-givers who know what's happening to them and Will Not Put Up With This Shit, the Desolation, the Hill Top Road statements

The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins Is this horror disguised as fantasy? Found family disguised as horror? Grown-up Neil Gaiman? Less grimdark George R.R. Martin? Honestly I have no fucking idea, but it's amazing. Fair warning, unlike Magnus Archives, this deserves all kinds of trigger warnings, including but not necessarily limited to: sexual assault, torture, mental manipulation, dysfunctional families, incest(?)

Father is missing, and his twelve children (though extremely talented in their own ways, and not strictly speaking children any more) are at a loss without him. But also, without him, things are starting to seem different. He might be God? They might not be human? (They were probably human once.) He might not be God but maybe one of them might be next? If any of them survive.

For you if your favorite part is: slowly turning into a monster, the relationships between entities and avatars, monsters hot (not kidding about the trigger warnings)

The Loney by Andrew Michael Hurley I have to keep reminding myself that Magnus Archives isn't really folk horror, there are two separate (if related) strains of British horror here and folk horror is not the one we're on, but at the same time I really want a good creepy rural pagan cult to show up in the series, you know? Anyway.

When he was a child, our narrator used to go with his family on an Easter pilgrimage to shrine on a bleak stretch of Lancaster coastline locals called The Loney. His Catholic mother was searching for a cure for his older brother, and she was convinced if they kept going long enough she would be granted her wish. The locals, however, are not huge fans of her annual visits, and even less so when the boys become involved with the goings-on of a pair of glamorous tourists.

For you if your favorite part is: the Lukases, I didn't realize until I was writing this up that I'm picturing Moreland House in the exact place described by this book

Eutopia by David Nickle One thing I love about the historical statements in Magnus Archives is just how truly historical they are. There's almost nothing in "The Piper" that isn't historically accurate - yes, Wilfrid Owen spent several days in a trench underneath the shredded bodies of his fellow soldiers. Like. You can't make up horror worse than that. But then you add monsters and it gets good. And I'm a sucker for early-twentieth-century history, it's such a bonkers time.

It's 1911 and the new Eugenics Record Office is sending agents out to catalog the disabled, infirm, and otherwise undesirable members of society so they can figure out what to do about them. In the utopian town of Eliada, Idaho, Dr. Andrew Waggoner runs from the racism of American society and straight into the influence of Mister Juke, the most troubling patient in his new practice. (Trigger warnings for, obviously, a whole lot of ableism. Treated like the monstrousness it is, but there's a lot of it.)

For you if your favorite part is: learning history through horror, the Flesh

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay I hate male writers writing about teenage girls, so you are going to have to trust me when I say that I had to check, several times while reading this book, to make sure that Paul Tremblay is actually a dude. He's very good. This book was kind of his breakout, so if you follow horror you've read it already, but if you don't necessarily then please do not miss it. His newer ones, Disappearance at Devil's Rock (Stranger, Spiral) and The Cabin at the End of the World (Slaughter, Extinction), are also good but not as good as this, I think.

Fourteen-year-old Marjorie is having a rough time - outbursts, hallucinations, paranoia. Treatment is difficult (and expensive) and her family ambivalent; they turn to a local Catholic priest, who recommends an exorcism and, to help manage those medical bills, a production company who's interested in filming a reality TV show about the process. Fifteen years later, Marjorie's sister deconstructs the now-famous show and wrestles with her own memories of childhood. Trigger warnings for ableism on the part of many of the characters, but not the narrative.

For you if your favorite part is: the Spiral, metafictional analysis of horror tropes

#the magnus archives #book recs #there's a lot of other things i could tag this as #but i wrote it for this fandom #is this a transparent excuse to get more people to read booth stories??#it is #it really is

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andrewmoocow · 5 years

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Gravity Soul chapter 13: Return to the Falls, Trust No One? (originally posted on August 12, 2019)

AN: As Doctor Stephen Strange once said, "We're in the endgame now." I'd like to thank everyone who has stuck by me since Thanksgiving 2017 as I laughed, cried, cheered and felt myself die inside while this saga progressed. They always say parting is such a sweet sorrow, and I have a feeling it's going to be even more sorrowful for me since this story holds a special place in my heart as a crossover between my favorite anime and one of my favorite cartoons. But enough sentimentality, let the final battle against KISHIN CIPHER begin.

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There was dead silence in the now red-lit forest of Gravity Falls. Kishin Cipher's fortress the Fearamid continued to hover above the Oregon town that barely had any life left inhabiting it now that the townspeople were either transformed into building blocks for his throne or hiding in the shadows.

However those shadows would finally see a beacon of light shining nothing but hope upon the desolate village in the form of the Mystery Meisters returning to the falls at last. Out of a portal came Dipper and Mabel first, their bond broken and repaired within the span of a few hours after the boy went out of his way to save his sister from the grasp of Kishin Cipher and Anti-Mabel.

Next came Stanford Pines, Maka Albarn, Black Star and Death the Kid along with their respective weapons Azusa Yumi, Spirit Albarn, Tsubaki Nakatsukasa and Liz & Patty Thompson. "This is it everyone. Beyond these woods, our final battle with Bill and Asura awaits." Ford boldly declared. "Is everyone ready?"

"I definitely am. And I'm ready to save Soul as well." Maka responded willing to risk her life for the sake of her Demon Scythe. "As am I dudes. We're coming for you Mr. Pines!" Soos added also ready to rescue his father figure and former boss Stanley Pines. "We haven't got a moment to lose, but I suggest we find shelter before he finds us." Franken Stein suggested turning his screw while Wendy, Crona, Ox, Kim, Kilik, Gideon, Pacifica, McGucket and the rest of the team followed behind. "Any ide-"

"Mystery Shack." the kids stated in unison before Stein could even finish. "Well aside from the fact that that's where we stayed at last Weirdmageddon, there's also a mystical barrier made out of unicorn hair protecting it from weirdness." Dipper explained. "Wait, unicorn hair?" Black Star wondered. "Tell me more!"

"How about later? We gotta get moving!" Mabel said racing to find the Shack. The group then followed the sweater girl but without their knowledge, an Eyebat peered at the party before flapping its wings and soaring to the Fearamid.

The eye creature entered the pyramid and faced its master Kishin Cipher as he schemed on his human throne. "Okay, gimme reports little guy!" he commanded the Eyebat with a poke of its cornea. It rumbled a bit before a holographic image of the Mystery Meisters running away from him. "Well well well, can't say I'm not surprised!" the Dream Kishin commented with a sneer. "Now we can finally start the welcoming party!"

His minions all assembled before their master and took a bow as Kishin Cipher gave orders. "Okay, I'll need all of you circling the town in search of any survivors!" he stated. "Arachne, Shaula, Mosquito, Giriko, Shifty, you follow those mortals and terminate them! Henchmaniacs, blow that cabin to bits and take out anyone inside! And Horsemen?"

"Yes Master?" the Madness of Greed formerly known as Grunkle Stan wondered planting his sword in the ground while his eight-legged horned possum Shanknir scampered to his side. "I've got a special assignment for all of you. I need the four of you to fight alongside me in the eventual big showdown. You up for it?"

"As always mighty God of Weirdness and Madness." Medusa Gorgon, the Madness of Wrath, answered loyally. "And I trust that you in particular won't try to turn on me and take my power?" K.C told the witch. "I sincerely promise you that I have no ulterior motives."

"Very good." Kishin Cipher smirked, feeling ready to destroy all in the fated clash.

"We should be getting close everyone, I can smell the cheap money." Dipper stated hiding in the bushes as he spotted the tourist trap from afar. "It feels like it's been so long since we've last seen that old place."

"Really? Cause it felt like we've spent an entire night searching for Pacifica and then a few days in Death City." Mabel added stacking her head on top of her brother's. "Well no matter, we're finally home." Ford continued stepping out of their hiding spot to knock on the door. "HALT! WHO GOES THERE?!" a familiar voice screamed. "Can you shut it Rumble? You'll get us caught!" another exclaimed harshly. "Besides, who knows who it could be?"

"Is that Eruka?" Dipper muttered in shock. "And that other guy sounds really familiar." Soos replied. "But let's barge in just to be safe!"

"That is rather rash and could be dangerous, but okay I believe you." Maka stated preparing to bust down the door. "Let's do this."

Battle cries were all around as the Mystery Meisters charged into the Shack with weapons raised high and a little resistance within the hovel roared as well. There were however a few familiar faces among the resistance's ranks. "Eruka, Free?" Dipper and Mabel exclaimed in unison. "Kids?" the frog and wolf responded just as stunned when the Multi-Bear stepped out of the bathroom. "Just so we're clear, we're all out of toilet paper." he announced amidst the awkwardness. "Did I miss something?"

"Are you making yourself at home Stanley?"

Stan sluggishly smacked his lips with a grumble and slowly opened his eyes to discover that he was now in a black and red room with a lamp as its only light source and a choppy record player nearby. Stan was bewildered as last he remembered, he & Soul sacrificed themselves to protect their loved ones and converted into minions of Kishin Cipher. He decided to get up from the chair he was sitting in to get a better look, but instead found himself chained to it. "Let me ask you again. Are you making yourself at home Stanley?"

"Hardly!" Stan exclaimed struggling to break out of his chains. "Where am I and who are you anyway?!" he asked. "Oh pardon me sir. Allow me to introduce myself." the voice's owner, a fine-dressed imp with a wide grin on his face, apologized. "I am the little demon now residing in your heart after you accepted the Black Blood within you."

"Hey, doesn't Soul have a weird little man kinda like you inside of him?" Grunkle Stan asked. "And why am I in this Sunday best getup?" He then brought attention to his current attire of a tuxedo with a red bowtie and a diamond ring on his finger. "Though I do like this ring."

"Why it's simple. As a fellow host of the Black Blood, you are one of four people forced to serve your new master. Though only one wasn't unwilling." the Ogre explained snapping his fingers to reveal the other hosts; Preston Northwest, Soul Eater Evans and Medusa Gorgon. Medusa was the only one to not be restrained to a chair, implying that she was the willing one.

"You won't get away with this you crimson cretin!" Preston shouted before the Ogre made a gag appear with another snap of his fingers. "Oh you Northwests don't know when to quit or shut up." the demon commented. "He's right you little twat, the twins will find a way to save us!" Soul added just as defiant. "Just why are we all here?"

"The master simply wants us all to be in better harmony." Medusa explained picking up a violin from a table out of two other instruments. "Make your choice." she commanded allowing the captives to get up from their chairs to choose. "I call dibs on the saxomaphone." Stan declared snatching the brass instrument. "Guess that leaves me with the clarinet." Preston added picking up his chosen woodwind. "But what about the boy?"

A spotlight shone on a grand piano behind Soul. "Of course." the scythe muttered sitting down and preparing to play. "But still, what's with all the harmony crap?" he asked the ogre. "Even though you are completely powerless to stop everything that you're perfectly aware of, there still has to be teamwork amongst Bill's slaves." the imp remarked. "NOW PLAY!"

The three unwilling Madnesses slowly warmed up under the watchful glare of Medusa who began expertly leading the way on her violin. Soul unwillingly but just as beautifully followed up with his piano while the Gravity Falls citizens just awkwardly looked at each other. "Do I see reluctance?" the Ogre snarled viciously electrocuting the two. "PLAY!"

"Okay, keep your pants on Lucy!" Stan growled playing the saxophone while Preston began his clarinet. Although their number was a nice piece, it symbolized how the three males were completely reluctant to serve Kishin Cipher.

"So that's the whole story?" Dipper asked Eruka while the group sat around a campfire inside the Mystery Shack that the resistance against Kishin Cipher had made their homebase. "Yeah, when we found your weirdo little house, there were already a few other people taking shelter as well." the frog witch answered. "Yeah, and a ton of strange characters too!" Free added. "Like those minotaur guys, the little dwarves, a couple of video game characters and whatever that bear is supposed to be!"

"Hey for your information Bigby, we're gnomes! The dwarves hang around in the mountains." Jeff exclaimed standing up next to Free. "But what of the strike force Death sent in?" Kid wondered twiddling his thumbs. "Most of them didn't make it." Sid stated. "Justin tried to kill that monster, but he was made a part of his creepy throne. Djinn Galland, Tsar Pushka, Feodor, Tezca Tlipoca and Mifunewould meet the same fate."

In a dark corner, Zubaidah & Enrique comforted a grieving Angela while Dengu & Alexandre leaned on the wall with Pitt colas in hand. "We're trying to do the best we can to fight back, but Kishin Cipher is pretty much all powerful." Mira explained. "The only thing that can keep us safe from him now is that unicorn hair shield keeping his powers at bay."

Suddenly rumbling footsteps sounded outside the Shack. "Uh guys, we got a situation!" the resistance's lookout, the wax head of Larry King, announced. "Those Henchmaniac guys are heading straight for us! And I am honestly surprised it only took them until now to find us."

"Everybody, battle stations!" the dating simulator character Giffany shouted taking position at a nearby window as the Henchmaniacs finally arrived with Moonlight, Kaguya, White Rabbit and the Black Clown leading the way. "Come out come out wherever you are." White Rabbit chimed in a sing-songy voice. "Your hair shield may not be penetrated by us, but we will find ways to penetrate you."

"NONE SHALL PASS!" Manly Dan screamed putting up his dukes. "You're only just making us want to tear you all to bloody shreds even more." Paci-Fire boomed telepathically. "Why the hell are we only cowering inside the Shack when we could be out there kicking their asses?" Black Star asked. "Also, what kind of monster is that ugly baby?"

"We're just not ready yet. Our forces are strong, but we still need something even stronger to stand a chance." Candy answered. "Candy's right you guys. We need to save Soul, Stan and Mr. Northwest if we want to save Gravity Falls. They're part of that big wheel Ford talked about." Maka responded. "Exactly, but how can we rescue them in their current states?" Stanford pondered. "By the way, do you think they can hear us?"

"Yes, yes we can!" Pyronica called out, causing the polydactyl author to angrily pound the wall. "Dammit!" he groaned agitatedly. "Well, time to cut things short. Kid, Kilik, Wendy & Dipper, you're all coming with us." Black Star declared. "The rest of you hit the deck!"

"Are you truly sure about this kids? These demons may look rather ridiculous, but judging by their apparent connections to Bill they must be insanely powerful." Stein observed. "We have to do this to protect the Shack while the rest of you think of a new plan." Kid replied beckoning Liz and Patty to his hands. "You're right. Stay safe out there." Maka promised the tourist trap defenders.

"Hey Henchmaniacs, we're right here for you!" Dipper announced grabbing Excalibur on his way out the door. "Well look who we have here, the master's favorite Pine Tree." Kaguya purred. "He always has talked about how much he hated you the most."

"Listen you creeps, just tell us where Soul & Mr. Pines are or you'll go from monsters to targets." Kid threatened. "We're basically saying prepare to get wrecked you rejected Pokemon!" Wendy added tossing her axe at one of the demons aiding the monsters. The creatures were silent for a moment and then, roared before charging.

"Incoming!" Kilik declared yanking Paci-Fire's binkie out of his mouth and stabbing him in the eye with it. Kid meanwhile shot right through Keyhole's namesake forehead at Lavalz. The amount of bullets put through the lava lamp creature's body were so plentiful, they put him on the brink of death. "Please boy, I beg you to have mercy!" he begged the son of Death. "I can do whatever you please! I'll be your servant, I'll turn on my fellow demons to assist you, just please don't kill me!"

"You know, come to think of it." Kid contemplated before a shadow rose from behind him. "This was all a trap and there's someone behind me, correct?" he wondered aloud shooting Amorphous Shape in the eye without even turning his back. "Now Dipper!"

Dipper cut Amorphous Shape to pieces while the creature's guard was down and he screamed loudly as he was reduced to just his soul. "Aw snap, he just killed Morphy!" Kryptos shouted. "This one'll be for him you freaks!" Pyronica shouted lighting her fists aflame. The opposing sides charged while everyone else in the Shack concocted a plan of attack.

"So I suggest we try using a human sacrifice." Stein revealed. "I like it!" Soos agreed. "No, I don't think that will be necessary." Maka rejected the idea to everyone's dismay. "We need an approach that'll involve everyone of us working together."

"OOH, OOH, OOH! I GOT ONE!" McGucket cried raising his bandaged hand. "All right, what do you got Fiddleford?" Stein asked the rich hillbilly. "Giant robit! We already did something like that last Weirdmageddon!" Fiddleford answered excitedly. "Funny story, that's almost exactly what we did when we fought Asura." Azusa stated. "Coincidence, I think not."

"But how are we going to get one? Especially in a place like this?" Crona wondered. "We can use whatever we please around town. Like we said, worked last time." Wax Larry King answered. "Is anyone else going to question why this wax head can talk?" Sid offhandedly pondered. "Whatever, let's get moving!"

As for Dipper's group, they were all backed into a corner by the surviving Henchmaniacs. Lavalz, Paci-Fire, Keyhole and Hectorgon had now joined Amorphous Shape in being destroyed, but their friends were now even more furious and taken them all down. "Well Dipper, where does this fit into our battle plan?" Kilik grunted awaiting his fate. "I'm sure something will turn up for us." Dipper replied optimistically. "Is that so?"

Standing before them, Arachne had just joined up with the former Nightmare Realm prisoners alongside Mosquito, Giriko, Shaula and the Shapeshifter. "And where were you this whole time?!" White Rabbit exclaimed hotly. "We were simply biding our time. Besides, it was fun seeing the children try oh so desperately." Arachne added. "And speaking of which..."

"Don't even think about trying anything funny with us or the Shack!" Wendy threatened. "Is that so little redheaded bitch?" Giriko snarled menacingly. "Well let's make a compromise. We'll do something funny with your little friends who are no doubt trying to escape."

And indeed Giriko was right. Maka was leading a group of the survivors out of the Mystery Shack consisting of herself, Bud Gleeful, Thompson, Ox, Sid, Mr. Poolcheck, Tyler, Free & Dengu. However the party would immediately be blocked by the Shapeshifter. "Stop, right, there. Which one of you wishes to die?"

"Hands off you glowing bastard!" Free snarled baring his claws. "Aw, poor little Free. It seems that you couldn't stand being a pariah for what you did to Maba, so you decided to betray your master for these weaklings she wants destroyed."

"For your information Xenomorph, Medusa was kind of a pretty awful boss and we just moved to a different one." the wolfman responded with a stupid grin on his face. "Can you not doom us right now?" Mr. Poolcheck and Thompson said in unison. "As you did serve Kishin Cipher, it is most unfortunate for you that I must slay you to prevent the rebels from gaining any information on him." the Shapeshifter deduced preparing to strike. "Make your last wishes."

"Stop right there!" Maka cried pointing her father's weapon form at the alien creature. "I won't let you harm anyone here today. I bet you won't even last until tomorrow to come back and kill us all!"

"Very well, then we'll strike again within two days!" the Shapeshifter replied. "How about three?!" Black Star butted in suddenly. "Four!"

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Seven!"

"MAKA CHOP!" Maka cried smacking Black Star on the head and knocking him out. "Tomorrow it is then." the Shapeshifter declared. "Okay everyone, pack it up! We can start again the next day!"

"Aw man." the rest of Kishin Cipher's present minions groaned like disappointed children. "SUPER anticlimactic." Kaguya complained. "I know right?!" Giriko replied. As the monsters began to leave, the rebels raced back inside the Shack to form a plan.

"So what were you doing out there leading those guys?" Ford asked Maka. "We were coming up with attack plans while Dipper was out fighting and someone made the suggestion of turning the Shack into some kind of robot."

"That's exactly what we did to beat Bill last summer!" Mabel exclaimed. "Exactly!" McGucket added. "Seems like we made it safe to go outside again, so let's get to work." Tsubaki stated. "But where can we find what we need?"

"Don't worry everyone," Dipper announced. "Mabel and I know where."

One montage of working hard on the resurrection of the automated tourist trap later, the rebels snuggled up underground in Ford's laboratory watching for signs of trouble. "Status update: K.C's forces have kept their word." Tambry announced peering through the periscope disguised as the totem pole outside the Shack. "Good work, we still got time left." Ford applauded. "Time left til we can get Stan and Soul back."

"And my father?" Pacifica asked innocently. "Sure, him too." the scientist answered. "Can't you show her a little sympathy? Her old man is currently forced to fight for an all-powerful demon thing and even showed willingness to help us before that, yet you still have that grudge against him." Liz stated. "Yes I apologize for being a bit insensitive, but the other two are still most important." Ford claimed. "Now then, have we worked any kinks from the last time?"

"Well, definitely got more unicorn hair to fully shield us." Candy stated in the midst of cutting Celestabellebethabelle's mane. "And it can fly now too!" Grenda exclaimed. "Is there anything this town can't do when they come together?" Melody said.

Meanwhile in the attic, Maka gazed out the twins' bedroom window at the blood red sky in silence. "Don't worry Soul, we'll be there for you soon."

"Did we hear you talk about Soul?" Mabel asked suddenly interrupting their older friend. "Gah, you guys!" Maka squeaked. "Aw don't be so skittish Maka, we just got a little feeling you like him." Dipper replied. "As in, like him like him." Mabel added beaming which made the scythe Meister blush like mad. "Oh quit blushing, you know too!"

"Okay, you got me!" Maka finally gave in. "I really do like him. He may be rather distant and cold, but he's just that much of a loyal friend who would do anything to protect me!" she confessed to the twins. "That's why I'll protect him in exchange, and maybe we could finally make music again."

"And you've been hiding these feelings for how long now?" Mabel asked Maka again. "I mean, I've heard that you two often argued like you were married or something."

"But let's try not to hyperfocus on that for now, cause I've also heard that if you do so, you can get distracted a bit too much and even get mad when people try to keep you away from your-" Dipper responded before Maka shushed him. "Okay okay, let's just keep up the fight against Kishin Cipher. Hopefully no one heard us."

"I did." Soos stated suddenly appearing by the door. "Don't mind me dudes, I just knew it from the moment we all first met."

Meanwhile at the Fearamid, Arachne was forced to give Kishin Cipher the bad news about the results of the attack.

"YOU DID WHAT?!" the Dream Kishin screamed loudly, causing enough vibrations to cause miniature earthquakes. "YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT YOU LOST MOST OF MY MEN TO A BUNCH OF PUNY MORTALS HIDING IN A CABIN, AND THEY MADE YOU AGREE TO TRYING AGAIN TOMORROW?! HOW STUPID CAN YOU ALL BE?!"

"My sincerest apologies master, we just arrived too late." the Spider Witch revealed bowing to the ground with her two subordinates and youngest sister. "But still, we might as well prepare for the final battle." she assured him. "You got a good point there Rachney." Kishin Cipher agreed spawning a wineglass filled with time punch. "In that case, I propose a toast! First one goes to absent maniacs."

The army of demons began mourning for the fallen Henchmaniacs while holding their own wineglasses. "Morphy was just too young!" Kryptos bawled into Pyronica's cape, blowing his nonexistent nose on it. "Did anybody else catch the lava lamp guy's name?" Moonlight asked Xanthar, who simply replied with a shrug. "This one is for you Keyhole." 8-Ball declared drinking the glass and tossing the time punch away hard enough for it to explode.

"But I would also like to propose another one." Kishin Cipher solemnly stated when his mournful expression turned into a fierce sadistic grin. "TO OUR ONCOMING VICTORY!" he cheered tossing his glass to the ground and smashing it underfoot. "MAZEL TOV TO ALL OF YOU! MAZEL TOV!"

The otherdimensional freaks began cheering for their master as his speech continued. "I'd like to thank all of the following for helping us make it this far!" Kishin Cipher announced splitting himself into Bill Cipher and Asura for the first time in what felt like ages. "First off, I'd like to thank my number one fan here for making a deal with me to exact our revenge!" the Kishin exclaimed fistbumping the dream demon. "And I'd also like to thank that pigtailed scythe-bearing brat for giving my new partner here that stupid courage punch!" Bill responded. "Without her, we wouldn't have met and become an unstoppable team!"

The duo merged back into Kishin Cipher who picked up a microphone while a large projector screen appeared behind him. "And in addition, we are also thankful for all the idiots that led themselves to their doom!" The screen began picturing many of the Dream Kishin's enemies and all they've accomplished in accidentally guiding the monsters to victory while the minions continued cheering. "It brings a tear to all three of my eyes to see so many freaks of nature all under one roof to celebrate the coming end of the universe! Especially you creature with like eighty-eight different faces! There, are you happy now?!"

"Actually, I've grown an eighty-ninth face!" the aforementioned multi-faced trog declared revealing a very handsome face to have sprouted. "Oh my, look at that thing!" Kishin Cipher exclaimed revealing the face's turquoise humanoid form. "Isn't it just dashing?!"

The creatures began oohing and aahing at how bizarrely attractive the new face was before Kishin Cipher returned to his speech. "As I was saying ladies, germs and unspeakable horrors of all shapes and sizes, this is it!" he declared making double peace signs over a podium while the projector screen made a large portrait of himself appear. "Tomorrow is the day that sanity goes completely down the shitter and pure madness reigns supreme! How excited are you!?"

"VIOLENTLY!" his army chanted arming themselves with torches, pitchforks and all sorts of stereotypically uber-violent tools. "And how bloody will our enemies' deaths be?!" Kishin Cipher continued. "INSANELY!" the monsters screamed pumping their fists. "Yeah, that's all I wanted to hear!" the leading abomination shouted raising his arms. "Come on everybody, let's get weird!"

Elsewhere in the Fearamid, the Four Madnesses meditated while their harmony exercises continued. The horsemen sat in utter silence until the Madness of Greed opened a single eye. "Kids."

The next day, all was silent once more in the forest. That is until a large mechanical being ambled among the trees, casting a shadow over the flora. Metallic footsteps thundered while leaving large car-shaped footsteps behind until finally, the Shacktron 2.0 reached the clearing where the Fearamid was situated. "Are we ready everyone?" Ford asked taking the pilot's seat. The rest of the rebellion nodded in response while preparing for war. "Good. Time to make our claim."

A large megaphone placed at the deck of the Shack was turned on by Dipper before he spoke into it. "Kishin Cipher, this is the Mystery Meisters telling you to surrender now and give back our friends or prepare to fight!" the boy threatened with an amplified voice. However, there was no answer. "D-Did he just give up already?"

"I'll say." Kishin Cipher sarcastically answered while suddenly appearing in front the young Pines brother and giving him a scare. "Long time no see Dipper, been a long while since we had a one-on-one chat!" the Dream Kishin casually greeted his archenemy. "And did you lose weight or is the stupid cosplay just throwing me off?"

"It's not stupid cosplay, my sister had it specially made for me!" Dipper declared defensively clutching onto his scarf. "Oh come on brat! It's too obscure, too ugly! I don't know which is worse!" K.C continued insulting making his hand violently detach itself. "I might just split a seam now if I don't die laughing first!"

"Not if we have the last laugh! NOW!" Dipper commanded allowing the rest of the crew to start firing all sorts of weapons at the Dream Kishin. "You can't break the Shacktron this time, we got unicorn hair from head to toe now!"

"Oh my, you're actually giving me a challenge?" Kishin Cipher quizzed while his forces spawned behind him. "Well what're you waiting for mortals?! Come and get me!"

"This is it everyone, we can do this!" Maka exclaimed taking control of the Shacktron 2.0. "Keep firing at them all!"

"But Maka, we can't just blast cannons at him forever!" Tsubaki advised. "You ready Black Star?" she asked her Meister holding out her hand. "Like Hell I'm not!" the ninja responded taking up arms and leaping outside the Shack, clashing blades with the Madness of Greed. "Been waiting for a proper rematch old man, haha!"

"Bah, you are simply a child dressed in a silly outfit. In fact, you are all children in silly outfits compared to us and our master." the old man in the golden armor scoffed taking out the Shadow Weapon Meister and making him fall to the ground. "NOOOOOT SIIIIILLLLYYYY!" the teen shouted faceplanting into the dirt. "Wait, are these clothes really that stupid?"

"Is there any way we can free Stan, Soul & Mr. Northwest without K.C getting in the way?" Dipper asked Stein. "The freeing our friends part is quite simple Dipper, we call it Chain Resonance where our souls must be on an equal playing field to do great things." the scientist proclaimed. "The keeping Kishin Cipher from interrupting part is much harder."

"How about the important guys, that's you guys, take on the Madnesses while everybody else keep the big guy at bay?" Free suggested warding off the Eyebats with his ice magic. "Good idea Free, and good luck too." Dipper agreed. "Okay everybody, we're gonna tackle the Madnesses ourselves!" he announced to the Mystery Meisters currently not occupied with fighting the monsters while Black Star crawled back up to the Shack. "Any last words before we go?"

"I got one." Pacifica stated turning to her mom. "Mother, I promise we'll bring Dad home."

"I love you." Soos said to Melody. "I know."

"If I don't come out of this alive," Gideon announced to his father and Ghost-Eyes. "tell my widdle ol' story."

"No offense to any of you guys," Azusa said to Ox, Harvar, Kilik, the Pots, Kim, Jackie, the NOT class girls and Hiro. "But you didn't do that much. Like I said, no offense."

"Eh, I'm used to it." Hiro replied giving a salute to the Mystery Meisters. "Now godspeed, all of you."

"Thanks everyone." Dipper said gratefully taking Excalibur by the hand and putting him in the sheath Mabel made for him. "And don't worry Stan, we'll be here."

"Hey hate to interrupt, but do you think these outfits look kinda dumb?" Black Star asked. "We don't have time B-Star!" Mabel exclaimed hurriedly. "Mabel's right, let's get a move on!" Maka announced arming herself with her father.

In the distance, the Four Madnesses were now benched after Greed's brief clash with Black Star watching their master take on the Shacktron from the Fearamid. "When do you suppose we shall strike once more?" the Madness of Sloth snarled biting on the tail of the eight-legged possum Shanknir. "We'll come back once Kishin Cipher is done with the mortals." the Madness of Wrath stated. "But speaking of which, I can sense a certain few of them coming our way."

"We've got you now Medusa! Release our loved ones, and others, or else!" Ford exclaimed leading the Mystery Meisters in cornering the four Madnesses. "It's absolutely hopeless now for all of you." the Madness of Envy purred menacingly while spinning his scythe. "Soon, Kishin Cipher's madness shall flood this town and once we bypass the barrier surrounding this town, we'll move onto the rest of reality as well."

"Barrier?" Marie asked turning to Ford. "That's the law of weirdness magnetism, whatever bizarre thing comes in can't get out." the author briefly explained. "But it seems that through Kishin Cipher's unlimited power that I'm sure he keeps pulling out of his behind, he won't need a special equation I've memorized to lower the shield around town."

"Doesn't matter if he's able to do that anymore, since our lord can warp all reality to his whims." the Madness of Sloth stated. "But enough about him, let's kill you!" The Northwest-turned-beast summoned his giant bell and slammed it onto the ground, creating a small crack in the floor of the lair that began getting larger. "Just wait til this hole begins to get larger and soon you'll fall headfirst on the ground below! I hear mortal brain-matter is delicious this time of year!"

"Listen daddy, I know it's still you underneath that hideous body!" Pacifica called out. "Please, just do anything to tell you still recognize me! I'll even take you ringing that stupid bell again if it means I'm still seen as your daughter!"

The Madness of Sloth prepared to smack his bell again before the girl's words reached his ears. "Pacifica?" he grumbled mid-attack. "He's open, now!" Maka shouted slashing the monster across his face with her father. "You brat!" the slovenly monster roared. "Black Star, tie those three up and we can begin!" the Scythe meister commanded the ninja who readied his chain scythe and lassoed up Sloth, Greed & Envy. "Dipper, did you bring the journal?"

"You bet I did!" Dipper proudly declared fishing Journal 3 from his backpack. "The three of you into position and get your wavelengths rolling!"

"Okay, this is it." Kid remarked as the three formed a circle around the three captured Madnesses. They began forming a connection with their soul wavelengths that built up a forcefield surrounding them. "No, you won't get away with this!" a frantic Medusa howled trying to stop the Resonance, but the barrier had other plans that caused it to send her flying toward her master's throne.

"Everyone, together!" Ford commanded placing his hand on the combined soul. "Wait, is this even possible?" Crona asked the author. "I honestly have no idea, but let's just improvise." Stanford answered while the rest of the group placed their hands on the soul. "Dipper, if you please."

"You got it." Dipper declared opening the journal with his free hand and beginning to read. "Videntis omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus." he began chanting and everything took on a brilliant cyan glow, from the Mystery Meisters' eyes to the soul surrounding Maka, Black Star and Kid. "Habeas corpus! Inceptus Nolanus overratus! Magister mentium! Magister mentium! MAGISTER MENTIUM!"

In a similarly-colored explosion, all were fast asleep.

In a pitch black ethereal realm solely inhabited by three pillars with stained glass portraits depicting the trapped trio, Dipper & Mabel landed on the one depicting their lost great-uncle. "This has to be the place, especially with all the quiet Latin chanting around us." Dipper declared adjusting his cap while Ford, Wendy, Soos, Black Star & Tsubaki landed behind the twins. "And that must be Stan over there!"

Indeed, the boy was right. However, Stan has now been regressed in age in this spiritual plane with his only companion being a silhouette of his father in front of them. "Wait, I remember this! It's like when Crona chatted with his shadow in his soul!" Mabel exclaimed trying to walk towards the shrunken Stanley, when suddenly the shadow blocked her path. It remained completely silent for what seemed like hours before pointing at the group with a earsplitting loud, unearthly shriek while the three pillars rapidly drifted apart from one another.

On the pillar inhabited by Soul, he was currently held in a straitjacket with the Little Ogre holding him on a leash when Maka, Spirit, Crona, Marie, Stein, McGucket & Gideon. "What have you done to Soul you scarlet shithead?!" Spirit screamed preparing for a fight. "What have I done you may ask?" the Ogre snickered while the Latin choir was now backed up by a choppy record player. "Why, I'm simply helping your friend follow his destiny."

"Well what kind of destiny is forcing him against his will to serve a monster?" Marie argued. "Why not just ask the boy." the imp chortled letting go of the leash he held on Soul. "Now go on my boy. Show them how much the master has improved you."

"Like hell I-" Soul began trying to resist control before Ogre pulled hard and electrocuted him. "Make it stop! Just make it stop!"

And finally on Preston's pillar, he was tied to a fancy chair with his head forcefully bowed down while faced by his daughter along with Azusa, Kid, Liz & Patty and Blair. "Dad, can you hear us?" Pacifica called for her father. "What brings you here daughter?" Preston glowered in defeat. "Don't you know that I am beyond redemption?"

"Don't be like that daddy, it's like what Grandpa Auldman said! Even the blackest of hearts have a speck of light within." Pacifica tried comforting Preston, but her hand was slapped away by the bandage tendril of Kishin Cipher. "No no no Llama, YOU shouldn't be like that!" a figment of Bill Cipher scolded the blonde. "It was thanks to me your family was able to rise to the top, but then your generation just had to screw everything up! Need I remind you?"

With a clap of his hands, Bill conjured up a giant bell to threaten Pacifica with. He began ringing it violently, forcing the girl to stand down. "Wait, you're afraid of a bell?" Kid asked her. "Pavlovian conditioning." Preston grumbled. "My wife and I basically made her our bitch with that accursed bell. Go on, shoot me now and end this. All of you know I deserve it."

"No, we haven't lost yet!" Pacifica cried trying to resist the bell and slowly marched towards her dad. "Our...family...name is broken!" she growled in her struggling. "And I'm...going...to...FIX IT!"

"How are you fighting back?! It's like he said, you're his bitch!" Bill screamed continuing to ring even louder before Kid and Azusa shot at him. "And you're all pretty much Shinigami's bitches too, having to do the dirty work while he lazes about because his stupid soul protects that even stupider city!"

"I don't think so Bill." Kid scowled. "Now Blair!" he commanded the cat, who let out a loud "Halloween Cannon!" and blasted the bell out of Bill's hand. "This isn't over you all!" the triangle screeched angrily while fading away. "I'm only a figment of his mind, preparing all of you for the real deal!"

As soon as the imaginary Bill faded, Pacifica made a beeline for her father's prison and released him. "P-Pacifica?" Preston stuttered before his daughter hugged him tight. "B-but why? Bill was right, I was a monster!"

"I know you are, but you can be something more." the blonde said softly. Suddenly, the spirits of every Northwest before them appeared lining up beside the two and facing them. With soft smiles, the ancestors vanished just as quickly as they materialized, leaving a fade to white behind.

"More firing, more! More!" Grenda hollered as the Shacktron soared around the now giant Kishin Cipher like a biplane, continuing to shoot at the monster while he waved his arms around trying to swat them down. "Uh gang, don't think we're gonna last any longer out here!"

"Don't lose hope everyone! The unicorn hair will protect us!" Sid exclaimed while in command of the flying hovel. "Though I'm mostly saying this because I've already died before. The rest of you might not be so lucky, not gonna lie."

"If that's the case." Wax Larry King solemnly declared turning to Hiro and Dengu. "Then gentlemen, it's been an honor." He grabbed a violin with his teeth and began playing it with the bow he bit down on, before a large crashing sound was heard. Appearing from the distance was Death City itself, now with its own set of limbs equipped with larger copies of Death's gloves.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Kishin Cipher began chortling at the walking city. "I mean, what's a literal walking town gonna do to-" Before the Dream Kishin could finish, the Death City Robot gave him a fierce jab to the eyes. "THE HELL?!" he screamed falling to the ground. "Seriously, is that you in there old man?!"

"You bet it is Cipher!" Lord Death called from the Secret Vault where he piloted the machine. "Time for us to settle the score, and this time this shall be the day your madness ends forever!" The mobile city then held out its hands and scooped up Kishin Cipher's unconscious form. "Special Attack:" Death announced. "COFFEE TABLE FLIP!"

"SO AWESOME!" the boy band clones Sev'ral Timez cheered. "Who digs giant robots?!" Hiro exclaimed. "I dig giant robots!" Nate replied. "We dig giant robots!" Chutzpar added. "Chicks dig giant robots!" everyone else answered in unison. "Nice!"

Back in the mindscape, Soul and Stan were the only ones remaining of the present Madnesses. The shadow form of Filbrick continued his horrible shrieking for another few seconds before abruptly stopping. "Is that your old man?" Black Star asked Ford. "Exactly Black Star. Though he was most certainly a hardass in life and not very kind towards Stan, he was a very mediocre guy very deep down." Ford answered. "Allow me to make peace with him."

The author stepped forward towards the facsimile of his long-deceased father and extended his hand out. "Hello there dad, or at the very least some spawn of Hell taking his form." he greeted Filbrick. "It's me, Stanford. I know this may seem like much, but could you please kindly let my brother go free so that he can join us in saving reality from utter destruction?"

"Not impressed." Shadow Filbrick snarled glaring at his descendants. "Not impressed with what?" the six-fingered genius asked. "With what you've become." Filbrick answered. "Look at you my son. Workaholic, haughty, unforgiving."

"That's all in the past!" Ford argued. "Okay, maybe I'm still a little too focused on my research, but still you have no right to call me out like that!"

"You tell 'em Ford!" Mabel exclaimed before Shadow Filbrick forced a barrier around the others and another over Stan. "They are insignificant, especially to you!" the shadow stated. "Your family is suffocating, correct?"

"No, stop all these lies at once!" Ford continued shouting. "You should watch your tone around your father!" Shadow Filbrick scolded. "I thought your brother was the only ignoramus between you two, but it seems you're just as foolish!"

Stanford didn't say a word after that, except for the growl he let out as he clutched his father's faker's neck tightly. "You take that back about us you faker!" he roared. "I know what you are, you're nothing but a manifestation of our negative emotions!"

Suddenly the barrier lowered around the rest of Ford's party and prepared for a fight. "Get them!" Shadow Filbrick choked commanding an army of duplicates. "Black Star, help me here!" Ford shouted to the ninja. "Yahoo, a chance to show my skills at last!"

"Finally time to put "that" to good use." Tsubaki grinned before they declared in unison, "Let's go, Soul Resonance!"

Tsubaki's weapon form changed from a chain scythe into a katana blade and then into a kunai that Black Star used to create afterimages of himself while running circles around the Filbrick shadows. "Try and catch me suckers!" the man who would surpass God cried out brashly. Sadly for him, the shadows were able to find out which was the real one and apprehend him, snatching Tsubaki away. "Don't worry, I got this!" the Shadow Weapon Meister declared preparing another move. "Ultimate Move: Black Star Big Wave!"

Black Star zoomed in for the kill, elbowing his partner's captor in the back while forcing his palm out, creating a large electrical force in the shape of a star that dissipated the shadow and freed Tsubaki. "And now, onto you!"

Jagged black lines began decorating Black Star's face as his sword finally shattered the shield around Stanley, and the de-aged grunkle looked up. "Black Star, what're you doing back here?!" Stan cried trying to protect himself from the scrambling shadows. "Just saved your life kid. Come with us if you want to live some more!" Black Star exclaimed taking the boy's hand as Stan slowly began returning to his normal age. "Yo Dipper, Ford, we got Stan!"

"Excellent work you two! Now let's finish this." Ford congratulated the pair letting go of his father's impersonator to prepare for the final blow. "Everyone, mobilize!" he commanded standing alongside his returned brother. "Good to be back in the fold poindexter." Stan said with his voice returned to its normal gruff octave. "And thanks for helping me out there kid."

"You're welcome old man!" Black Star replied beginning to charge towards Shadow Filbrick alongside the Stans & Dipper. "Now let's end this!"

"What are you doing?!" Shadow Filbrick cried out in horror before Dipper and Black Star's souls formed a connection. "Twin Blades of Legendary Justice!" the two boys announced their new attack as they stabbed their enemy in the chest while the Stan twins punched him on both sides of his head. "Y-y-y-y-y-you haven't won, YEEEETTTTTTT!"

Those were the final words of the fake Filbrick Pines before he exploded into pure light that covered the entire mindscape, along with similar blasts coming from the other two pillars.

"Oh geez, what happened?" Stan groaned slowly getting up off the wet ground and noticing the sky was a beautiful blue. "And where are we? Are we dead? I was betting on biting the dust like a hero."

"I don't think we're dead Grunkle Stan." Dipper stated gazing at Tsubaki standing nude, glowing and covered with black stripes in front of a large deer-like creature colored black with white markings. "Everyone, this is the will of my clan." Tsubaki introduced the creature who glared at the three Pines. "I see you have taken on a pupil of your own my camellia blossom." the will of the Nakatsukasa clan remarked gazing at Dipper. "And it seems he wields the legendary sword Excalibur."

"Yeah, good observation there." Dipper remarked. "So are you going to like, bless me or something?"

"Such a modest young man." the Will of Nakatsukasa commented. "Reminds me quite a bit of Masamune before his fall." he added turning to Tsubaki. "A little, I guess." the young woman replied stepping down to look at the boy. "Are you ready for the next phase of training?"

"Uh, uh, yeah?" Dipper stuttered while he face turned red from trying not to look at Tsubaki's spiritually bare form. "Hey guys, am I late?!" Black Star hollered rushing towards the group. "Hey, we gonna knight Dipper or something?"

"Sure, go ahead Black Star." Dipper answered proudly before the ninja summoned his sword and knighted his newfound equal with it. "Hopefully you can be just as badass as I someday."

"You got it." Dipper answered his new brother in arms with a firm handshake and the realm went white once more.

"Please Maka, just kill me and put an end to this! It's the only way I can be free of him!" Soul begged his Meister as the Little Ogre continued pulling on his leash. "Just do it!"

"No Soul, I can't!" Maka cried. "I won't let you die like this, not after all we've done for each other." she stated letting a few tears fall. "We may bicker a lot, but you've done so much for me. I'm your partner, best friend, closest confidant. And maybe we could be something more."

"Called it!" Marie cheered. "Oh, my baby girl!" Spirit replied feeling proud of his daughter. "Wait, when was that a thing?" Gideon wondered. "Bah, don't think the power of love can stop me!" the Ogre scoffed yanking on Soul's chain even harder, the pain forcing him to change into his Madness of Envy form. "Now my slave, finally destroy them!"

Maka armed herself with her father and got to work on trying to free Soul. However for the latter, he had a scythe of his own that is pretty much an exact double of his weapon form. "So it's come to this old friend. Scythe to scythe!"

"Meister to weapon!" Maka replied clashing blades with Soul. "Soul to soul!" Their weapons collided and ground against each other, causing sparks to literally fly. As for the rest of Maka's group, they were forced to fight more shadows similar to Shadow Filbrick.

"We need to find a way to get Soul distracted so that we can save him!" Stein exclaimed while taking command of Marie and fighting back-to-back with Crona. "Anyone have ideas?"

"Why don't we, I don't know, get 'em to kiss?" McGucket suggested. "But how can we do that?" Crona wondered. "Simple, just gotta shove 'em into each other!" Ragnarok suggested. "But we'll have to take out all these first to make more room and make things go smoothly."

"And where have you been this whole time?!" Gideon asked Ragnarok. "You've barely been useful to us for most of this journey ever since we left for Death City!"

"Hey, shut up kid!" the Black Blood sword argued just as McGucket split them up. "Alright you two, let's just get a move on."

"It's like my master said, the power of love is fruitless against me!" Soul hissed proceeding to gain the upper hand on his former partner. "What makes you believe I can be cured?!"

"Because she's got help!" Crona declared trying to push the Madness of Envy towards her. "Quick old man, start playing!" Gideon cried shoving Maka forward. "You got it!" Fiddleford exclaimed beginning to play a romantic tune on his banjo while Stein cleared out the remaining shadows. "What trickery is this?!" the Ogre yelled as Maka & Soul began slowdancing. "Don't fall for that music, just kill them all!"

"W-what are you trying to do Maka?" the final Madness asked slowly beginning to turn back into Soul. "Remember how earlier I said we can be something more?" Maka asked softly. "Well it's because, I do kinda have a crush on you. I mean, after all we've done for each other I'm surprised you haven't admitted that either."

"Yeah, gonna be honest, I do too." Soul confessed. "Even this music is something we made together, isn't it?" he asked slowly bringing his partner in for a kiss. "Yeah."

"NO! NO NO NO! I can't be foiled by the power of cliches, what will Master Cipher think?!" the suited imp panicked trying to separate the newfound lovers. "Well we think you need to go." Crona snarled shoving him off the pillar and into the inky blackness below. "I know he'll get you for all of this!"

As Maka and Soul finally kissed, the mindscape went completely white.

"Yeesh, couldn't wait until after we saved the world, huh?"

When the pair broke, they found themselves back in the Fearamid with the entire Mystery Meister crew, plus the recently returned Stan and Preston, surrounding them. Spirit burst into tears about his daughter finding love, Mabel & Marie highfived each other for a match made and Black Star gave his buddy a thumbs up. "My man!"

"Everyone." Soul gasped looking at them all. "And Mr. Pines too!?" he exclaimed staring at Stan. "Yep, in the flesh Sharkbait." Stan cackled and took a deep breath. "Real nice for us all to be back together."

"So where do we go now?" Preston nervously asked and Dipper, Maka, Mabel & Soul looked onward at Kishin Cipher being double-teamed by the Shacktron and the Death City robot. "Kishin Cipher." they declared in unison.

Speaking of which, Kishin Cipher found himself backed into a corner by the two mechanized homes. "So, any suggestions my surviving goons?" he asked the remains of his army. "Well, it seems you can't directly hit the Shacktron." the Summerween Trickster analyzed. "So we must hit something with it!" Wax Sherlock Holmes added. "Like the other robot!" the Flying Dutchman concluded, which gave Kishin Cipher an idea. Shrinking down to regular size, he warped above Death City and extended his arm into its underground to seize Lord Death from his current hiding spot. "Not so all-powerful and all-knowing now, aren't you father?!"

"If this is part of another scheme, that's not going to happen!" Death shouted smacking Kishin Cipher in the face with his glove while being held by the antenna on top of his head. "I'll let you run free, if you hand over my soul." K.C. offered threatening him with an energy blast on his middle finger. "Or perhaps you'd much rather prefer being murdered on the spot in front of your soon to be dead son!"

"I'd never!" the Death God refused. "Well, suit yourself." the Dream Kishin casually answered carelessly dropping Lord Death on the ground from high above before his arm next searched the Death Room, eventually finding Asura's soul buried underneath one of the crosses within.

"Come to papa!" the monster announced swallowing the soul whole and beginning to get more stronger. Tiny bat wings emerged on his head which became more angular & chiseled, his arms more comedically muscular and the bandages forming into demonic wings. "And now for the main course!" he roared excitedly grabbing Death City by the large rock formation underneath and smashing the Mystery Shack into pieces, potentially killing everyone inside. "Oh no, I murdered everyone you love! Ah, don't be a bunch of sadsacks, cause you'll be joining them pretty soon!"

The Mystery Meisters stared in shock, horror and sadness at what just happened. Soos started crying uncontrollably at the possible loss of his fiance, Preston futilely reached out for his wife, Ford dropped to his knees in defeat and everyone else was in mourning.

All except for the Mystery Twins and Maka & Soul, who were absolutely furious at Kishin Cipher. Dipper held Excalibur tightly while tears leaked from his enraged eyes, Mabel stuck to her brother's side, Maka simply glared and Soul clenched his fists in fury.

The final battle for the fate of all humanity has finally begun. And in the distance, a certain clergyman stood atop a tree watching with a wolfman.

Hey there boys and girls, sorry this took so long! I just got tied up with so many things that this chapter took me nearly most of the year. But hopefully this is all worth it, even with some parts feeling rushed in my eyes. Is the resistance truly dead and has Kishin Cipher finally won?! Well, I guess the final line might make it pretty obvious. Join us next time for the epic final clash where the fate of Earth and all reality shall be decided.

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free-martinis · 6 years

Link

I find the title of this article quite misleading (as they often are) but for the links sake I kept it. IMAO it’s been chosen to get a reaction out of people. Martin talks about so much here. His roles in Black Panther, Sherlock, Fargo, Startup, personal things, his new TV series Breeders, being a mod, music etc.

Read for yourself:

“In a reversal of usual Hollywood practice, Martin Freeman stars as one of only two white characters in a predominantly black film. He plays a CIA agent on the trail of a villain in the superhero blockbuster Black Panther. The other white actor is his Hobbit co-star Andy Serkis. As a result, the two were known on set as “the Tolkien white guys”.

“Yes, that was quite funny,” agrees Freeman, over a sushi lunch. His character, Everett Ross, is also on the receiving end of one of the film’s best lines – “Don’t try and scare me, coloniser!” – after he bumps into Shuri, a princess in the mythical African kingdom in which the film is set.

But Freeman was keen that Agent Ross should be more than the beleaguered operator that appears in the original Marvel comics, saying he didn’t want to play another “goofy white guy among cool black people going ‘What the hell?’” So he discussed fleshing out his character with director Ryan Coogler.

“And he was completely on board with that,” says Freeman. “I had no interest in [playing a thin character] any more than a black actor would have had interest – as they have been for many years – in being a one-or two-dimensional black character.”

Freeman thinks we’ll be seeing more of Everett Ross in the Marvel cinematic universe. But he isn’t sure if that will mean he and Sherlockco-star Benedict Cumberbatch – who plays Marvel’s Doctor Strange in the franchise – will ever share big-screen time. Nor is he sure if he and Cumberbatch will be reunited on the small screen any time soon.

The fourth series of Sherlock finished in January 2017 amid a flurry of negative headlines accusing the once highly acclaimed show of having become convoluted and over-the-top. How did Freeman feel about the backlash?

“Um, we’re British. We basically want everyone to die after the first album,” he says. Yet he thinks some of the critics may have had a point. “To be absolutely honest, it [was] kind of impossible. Sherlock became the animal that it became immediately. Whereas even with The Office [the Ricky Gervais comedy that launched Freeman’s career] it was a slow burn. But Sherlock was frankly notably high quality from the outset. And when you start [that high] it’s pretty hard to maintain that.”

He seems more frustrated by speculation among the show’s rabid fan base that Watson and Sherlock are in love. “There was a chunk of people who just knew it was going to end with us getting together,” he says, still sounding exasperated 15 months after the last episode was broadcast.

For the record, then: “Me and Ben, we have literally never, never played a moment like lovers. We ain’t f------ lovers,” he says forcefully.

Have they discussed a fifth series?

“Not massively. Um… I think after series four [it] felt like a pause. I think we felt we’d done it for a bit now. And part of it, speaking for myself is [due to] the reception of it.”

Rather than the criticism, he means the exceptional personal pressure he found himself under as a result of the show’s success. “Being in that show, it is a mini-Beatles thing,” he says. “People’s expectations, some of it’s not fun any more. It’s not a thing to be enjoyed, it’s a thing of: ‘You better f------ do this, otherwise you’re a c---.’ That’s not fun any more,” he repeats.

The actual reason for our meeting is to talk about Freeman’s new compilation album, Jazz on the Corner, which he has put together with old friend Eddie Piller, the founder of revered label Acid Jazz.

The pair co-hosted a show on independent station Soho Radio a couple of years ago: two hours of “digging in the crates” for beloved old jazz records to play. There was such a positive response to it, that Piller suggested an album.

“And it was nice. It’s just a good excuse to delve through some jazz records at home and kid yourself that, ‘I’m doing this for this work purposes’.”

The actor is a Mod to the soles of his well-shod shoes, but Freeman was keen to break out of the confines of the culture and “go jazz”.

“There are some, for want of a better word, Mods who can’t talk about anything else. Totally mono-cultural. And that drives me totally barmy.”

He himself grew up on the fusion of ska and punk rock that dominated the early Eighties. “Catholicism and Two Tone were my twin religions as a kid,” he grins. “I was crazy about it. I went mad over Madness and The Beat and the Specials. It was great music that managed to touch 19-year-olds and nine-year-olds.”

It’s music first and foremost that keeps him sane in the long hours of downtime on film sets, particularly on huge and laborious productions like the Atlanta-based Black Panther.

His long absences away from home are rumoured to be among the reasons for his split from his partner and Sherlock co-star Amanda Abbington, with whom he has two young children, in 2016. He admits now that juggling work with home life has always been tricky. “Even when Amanda and I were together I was very picky [over what I did]. I even thought about [not doing] The Hobbit! I was thinking, ‘Hmm, that’s a long time away from two little kids…’”

Has the split made him change his attitude to his career? “No, it hasn’t massively impacted on my life. I’m determined to do things that I want to do. And not do the things I don’t want to do. And me and Amanda will always find a way of making it work, because we’re very supportive of each other.”

Freeman is currently single, which might help explain his raft of recent projects, including Black Panther, the jazz album, last year’s West End play Labour of Love, an Australian zombie movie for Netflix called Cargo and new BBC sitcom Breeders.

Created by and starring Freeman, Breeders is about “the stuff in parenting that nice middle-class people just don’t want to talk about, and almost never do," he says. "And I can’t quite believe it. I can’t have serious conversations with parents who don’t admit that sometimes they want to throw themselves out of a window – for real!

“I realised when my kids were very, very young that I couldn’t have any more nice north London conversations about how fantastic it was. Yes, of course it is – you love your kids more than anything in the world. But sometimes you want to kill everyone in your house.”

Part of his recent output would also seem to be driven by a desire to remove himself as much as possible from the ‘everyman’ persona he first cultivated as Tim in The Office, a persona he has vocally resented being labelled with ever since. Recent roles have been grubbier and dirtier, from his mild-mannered insurance man who descends into murder in Channel 4’s Fargo, to the Amazon drama StartUp, in which he played “a bent FBI agent”.

“I really enjoyed doing that,” he says eagerly of StartUp. “In Fargo you saw a guy who at the start was not psychopathic and was not mental. But in StartUp he begins there. This was not an, ‘ooh, he’s an everyman, but he’s taken a turn…’ No, he’s really dark. And I really loved that.

Did it unlock any inner demons?

“Nope,” he shoots back with a smile. “In my job I think that’s exactly how you exorcise things, because you get to do it on the set. Not that I’m never a complete p---k in real life – I am a complete p---k in real life sometimes, but probably less than I would be if I didn’t have this job.”

#Martin Freeman #arcticle #link #interview #2018

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shadow-and-quill · 6 years

Text

.:RP:. Politicking

Characters: Ritsuka Aoki (male Keeper), Shen Kotodama (male Raen)

Rating: General

Origin Date: 4 Nov 18

Shen and Ritsuka discuss ways forward dealing with the Yukimura and other manners. The eldest of the Kotodama and their loyal shinobi tend to be quite an amusing pair.

“>blah<” indicates Doman

---------------------------------------------------------------

Ritsuka Aoki blinks as he walks into his office. "Kotodama-sama, we didn't have a meeting." It was said with such certainty, his schedule memorized.

Shen Kotodama had only just been there, a cup of tea in hand. Head canting back. "No. I didn't have bothersome juniors until today. Do you have any pressing matters?"

Ritsuka Aoki shakes his head, going to his desk to pull out a new set of glasses. There are about a dozen or so stashed there. The cracked ones from the practice spar are set aside to be repaired later.

Shen Kotodama observed this stash with some quiet bemusement playing upon his eyes. "As many glasses as the shoji we've replaced?" A tease. He'd almost lit the last person to run through them on fire himself.

"I would need an entire shelf to match that number," was the dry tone. "Can I get you anything?" Ever the host. He goes to move the plushie off his desk and to the corner. More toys had appeared with Saeha staying with him.

Shen Kotodama hefted up briefly his own cup of tea. "You honor me with your graciousness; so I thought to do so equally in preparedness," was the slow reply as he switched to Doman. “>Have you trained someone in the ways of the diplomat before?<”

Ritsuka Aoki shifted his glasses up his nose. ">I have not. I was self-taught as it was. Is there someone that you're considering?<" An eyebrow raise.

Shen Kotodama sighed softly to this. “>This makes you even more impressive, Aoki-san. If you were born a Raen you would hold an office in the Bakufu.<” For once he didn't sound like he was playing at someone. Rather he respected Ritsu's abilities quite a bit. “>Yes. I had intended for you to teach Kiyo before her emotional nature swallows her clan.<”

Ritsuka Aoki knew that fact /very very/ well. A bit of an annoyance in his life but fortunately his spot had more than enough financial stability to suit him and his sister. His tail swished in a rare content motion at the praise. ">Daimyo Yukimura?<" The tone in his voice betrayed how he felt about how successful THAT would be.

">You can call her Daimyo with a straight face?<” A subtle rising of his brow to this. His face it's usual socially kind mask. “>Though yes, Daimyo Yukimura. Only lightly less of a lost cause than our own sitting Daimyo.<” The sitting part stressed softly in his tone.

">She has inherited the title as tradition dictates so I will address her as so.<" Just as neutral a tone. ">Both of the Daimyo are quite young.<" He sets his book on the desk after retrieving it from his robes. ">And untrained. If there was a more experienced one of their station, that would be the best way for them to learn.<"

Shen Kotodama momentarily has an actually genuine look of disgust come across his features. But this is soon gone. “>Both are young and raised outside of the traditional bounds of our culture. If we find no other option, there are my ancestors to consider towards their training.<”

Ritsuka Aoki tilts his head to the side at that. ">Or look about Doma. Clans are reforming and those that were in hiding are re-emerging. Surely there is one that the Clan has ties to that would be willing to mentor two young leaders?<"

">We have ties to other clans; this is to assume that they are trusted however. To influence our leaders as this, Aoki-san, I'm sure you understand I want to keep our influence and control of the heads.<”

">Of course, Kotodama-sama. I understand completely.<" A shift of his glasses. ">That is why I will go and monitor the lessons myself if one is found worthy.<"

Shen Kotodama closed his eyes for a moment. Offering a minor nod. “>Then I will entrust this to you. Perhaps it is a thing I should have seen set in motion sooner as I will be speaking to Yukimura-dono soon about the siege. Perhaps I can have her draw on me.<”

Ritsuka Aoki can't help a bit of a wry smirk at that. ">My suggestion is that you stop antagonizing the woman. I caught the last of your bickering earlier after Rokuyo-san arrived. You are just as guilty for antagonizing here.....ser.<"

Shen Kotodama sighed deeply. Canting his head back a bit. “>She reminds me of my junior sister, in truth. I assumed such hard lessons and her losing with her outburst would be sufficient. She is valuable even should her request be difficult.<”

">She is on the defensive. And when some feel backed into a corner they lash out. The constant poking at her while she is in such a state will only make things worse.<" He rested fingers on his book for a moment, leaning a bit forward on the desk. ">I overheard she is to meet the kifujin of Hausuganji concerning a political marriage.<"

">Mmm.<” Shen looked down at Ritsuka at this. “>This would be quite troublesome. With us actively losing our host reclaiming their mountain.<” Though the man was in the traditional way far underselling it.

Ritsuka Aoki raises a dark eyebrow again. My goodness, were all born Domans this silly? ">I would think you would be concerned being the only suitable male in the running for the Kotodama. Even if you are perhaps past your prime for your husbandly duties.<" Said so plainly.

Shen Kotodama would have agreed, people born Doman were quite silly creatures. “>I am the only suitable male currently free. A younger brother did survive... last I had seen him in the prisoner camps.<” The mark upon his forehead was a brand, after all. “>Even aside. I am hardly concerned for myself. The marriage is more important than the contact; one of her consorts can fill the role for bringing a child. Though I doubt my body lacking in ability.<” Pride, or something else!

Ritsuka Aoki does his best to repress a smile. All men were the same. But he soon regains himself. ">Firstly, if you have family in the camps, they should be freed now. Should we set out to find him? Secondly, you had better improve your interactions with Daimyo Yukimura if you wish to keep her swayed to the Kotodama.<" He opens his book, clawed fingers running down a line. ">Though...<" A pause. ">You always leverage her honor in the fact that you /are/ giving her her home back.<" A glance back up.

Shen Kotodama cocked an eyebrow to this. The other point could wait for a moment. “>I do, as this is the fact of the matter. Her father was lacking valorous honor; but his daughter is a woman of fire... ironically so.<”

Ritsuka Aoki is quiet for a few, tapping his page. "> You are fond of her then.<"

“>Of her potential,<” Shen corrected. “>I believe she wouldn't have abandoned her homeland. That her pride wouldn't have let her do so.<”

Ritsuka Aoki tilts his head. ">She admitted today that she made the call to retreat when the attack happened.<"

Shen Kotodama hummed softly to this, making to sip at his tea, but it was all gone. “>I find it hard to believe a child could have called a retreat; she was little more than this when they fell.<” Though it certainly brought doubt to his thoughts. “>If she is the same coward as her father however we're wasting considerable resources.<”

Ritsuka Aoki walks over to take his cup and go to fill it. ">Think of it. She was likely in her later teenage years when it happened. Freshly assumed the mantle of Daimyo due to her father's sudden death. And her village slain by a yokai twin. Her Clan would be gone if they hadn't run. That has to be admired.<" Back and forth he flopped on opinions, curious of reactions.

Shen Kotodama sighed. Eyes closing as the cup was filled. Ritsuka would have been frightening if he had been born anything but a miqo'te. “>There is nothing to be admired in retreat, Aoki-san.<”

">Not even in survival? Ensuring your blood lives on?<"

">What worth is that blood if it is tainted by meekness?<”

">It's life.<" He leans his hip against the desk, a bit of his formality fading. ">I am here, alive, with my sister because I left Eorzea. Was your praise from earlier given to the meek?<"

">It would seem so.<” Though Shen was simply being prideful now. The man only sighed in the end. “>Can you have a gem retrieved from the Clan’s temple? I will be taking to the field.<”

Ritsuka Aoki is hardly offended, in fact the curl of his lips implies he's amused. ">If you trust a meek miqo'te like myself to do so, Kotodama-sama.<"

Shen Kotodama glanced down at Ritsuka. Eyes narrowed; towards anyone else it would be a glare! “>I would rather you go. The Ancestors won't bother you. I will admit to Kiyo she was correct before I go to assuage her ego.<”

">You'll just have to give me a location so I can gauge how far I'll have to prepare. There are still rogue Garlean elements roaming Doma.<" He doesn't remark on his latter words but that shite-eating smirk remains on his face.

Shen Kotodama wondered if he should have burned this miqo'te instead of the Daimyo! “>It's an island off the coast. I'll have it's location sent to you. Perhaps a half day’s travel If you need a body guard I'll have one sent with you.<” It went without saying; Ritsuka had won.

">A bodyguard will simply slow me down. I work best alone. Please just send me all the details. I will head out after some planning once I receive them.<" A more proper bow.

Shen Kotodama returned Ritsuka's bow. Only pausing once he stood. “>If I didn't enjoy your company I would have to sneer at such smugness.<” And that was close as admitting he enjoyed someone as he would give. “>I'll leave you to your evening now. I imagine Saeha-chan will be back soon.<”

">Indeed she will be. Hopefully she didn't completely exhaust X'nihru-san.<" An adjustment of his glasses. ">And it was a pleasure to have such an enlightening discussion with you as well, Kotodama-sama.<"

">I fear it was too enlightening. Do make sure to find someone to train Yukimura-dono. I would do it myself, but she might actually try to kill me and I would hate to have to act upon such.<” Though it's unlikely he actually would.

">I will see what I can arrange. She is a beautiful young woman,<" even he could admire that despite his preferences, ">I am sure an eager young man would be happy for such an opportunity.<"

">If their eagerness comes from beauty he'll find himself beneath her boot.<” It earned an amused snort. “>May the ancestors watch over you, Aoki-san.<”

">That is what will be entertaining. And it would eliminate some annoying competition in the government offices.<" Another fix of those glasses. Two birds with one stone. ">Be careful in the field. The latest supplies leave in two days' time. You can likely travel with the caravan.<"

">You've kept up with the timetables well. I'll ensure to join them. I have some other small tokens to put into place...<” Then an odd grin. As he strode away he couldn't really lie to himself; he was looking forward to the field.

#roleplay #rp #shen kotodama #siege arc

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creativemorningsvancouver · 3 years

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Join us for next months speaker as we’re thrilled to invite Chris Corrigan to our virtual stage.

Chris Corrigan is a principal partner of Harvest Moon Consultants, specializing in participatory process, international facilitation, and strategic thinking in support of organizations and communities tackling complex challenges.

Corrigan’s formal bio includes info about decades of experience working with governments, not for profits, indigenous communities, and social enterprises, creative dialogue-based tools and processes informed by complexity theory to help leaders and teams make decisions in uncertain contexts.

But mostly Chris Corrigan is just a person who would like to share a pesto recipe with you:

Take a bunch of basil, destem it, place it into a mortar with a few pinches of coarse salt and a couple of peeled garlic cloves and begin grinding it into a paste.

When the leaves are all broken down, add some pine nuts and gently pour in a really good olive oil until the paste has the consistency you’re looking for.

Add a pinch of chilli flakes for a subtle feeling of heat.

That’s the secret. Purists will object, but I’m telling you, give it a try.

How do you define creativity and apply it in your life and career?

Making things I guess. It’s certainly what I have done from a very small age, made drawings, and songs and poems and games and all kinds of things. These days I make conversations and community and I try to make a difference by doing things that have never been done before. It is all creative.

Where do you find your best creative inspiration or energy?

In a few places: the early morning, or being with others. I am an improviser at heart and so I work with offers all around me and when I am creating with others I feel like I’m always at my best.

What’s one piece of creative advice or a tip you wish you’d known as a young person?

Pay more attention to what you have just done. Try to remember the feelings of sweetness and despair instead of just moving on to the next thing. There are so many experiences I’ve forgotten about because they seemed so fleeting at the time, and now I wish I could remember who was there with me and what we actually did.

Who (living or dead) would you most enjoy hearing speak at CreativeMornings?

Have you ever had any children speak? Would you dare turn the mic over to a 12 year old child? A twelve year old girl ready to kick ass and take names would be an amazing thing to see.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?

Quit a full time government job with a baby at home to become a consultant.

What did you learn from your most memorable creative failure?

Usually no one gets hurt.What are you reading these days? Shifu, You’ll Do Anything for a Laugh by Mo Yan, What The Mystics Know by Richard Rohr, Trickster Drift, Eden Robinson

What fact about you would surprise people?

I am a practicing contemplative Christian.

How does your life and career compare to what you envisioned for your future when you were a sixth grader?

At no point did I ever play on the blue line for the Toronto Maple Leafs, so nothing has really worked out. I also didn’t start a band with Brian May and Freddy Mercury.

How would you describe what you do in a single sentence to a stranger?

I help people work together to figure out what to do when they are stuck so that we can make the world a more just place.

What’s the most recent thing you learned (big or small)?

How to move between an Eb melodic minor and an Bb major scale in the same position so as to find some compact soloing lines on A Child is Born.

If you could open a door and go anywhere where would that be?

Right now, it would probably be to the Grey Bruce Highlands in southern Ontario to visit my family.

What keeps you awake at night?

Barred owls on the hunt beneath a full moon and a Pineapple Express lashing the front of my house.

What myths about creativity would you like to set straight?

There are no myths about creativity. It’s all true. Even the myths. Especially the myths.

Who has been the biggest influence on your life? What lessons did that person teach you?

My partner Caitlin. She continually teaches me how to not lose my shit and succumb to anxiety and fear. And every day she reminds me that I am loved.

What are you proudest of in your life?

My two kids, who are young adults now and making their way in a weird world. They love each other and my heart bursts through my chest every time I think about them.

If you could do anything now, what would you do?

End patriarchy, capitalism, and settler-colonialism and watch SOOOO many of my friends fulfill their potential and make the world a better place.

Where was the last place you travelled?

Last air travel was in February 2020 and was a three point tour to Ontario, Columbus Ohio, and Minneapolis, to teach the Art of Hosting and complexity skills to doctors in Ohio and social change activists in the Twin Cities. And to drink whisky with my dad for his birthday.

What music are you listening to these days?*

Lots of jazz standards played on guitar and especially diving into the work of Reg Schwager.

What was the best surprise you’ve experienced so far in life?

Realizing in an instant that I am unconditionally loved.

Where is your favourite place to escape?

There are a few places on Bowen Island, where I live, that are absolutely precious to me.

What was the best advice you were ever given?

If you talk to people about what they know about, they will always tell you the truth. I heard that from Utah Phillips at the Vancouver Folk Festival in 1997 and it fundamentally changed my facilitation practice.

What books made a difference in your life and why?

Not just books? There are many creative artifacts that have been influential in my life. The Tao te Ching was super influential. A painting by Carl Beam called “Columbus Chronicles”, John Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme,” Irish whistle player Mary Bergin’s album “Feadóga Stain,” the midfield prowess of Glenn Hoddle, Nathanial Mackey’s Bedouhin Hornbook. The Facilitator’s Guide to Participatory Decision Making by Sam Kaner. News of the World by Queen. Between the Breaks by Stan Rogers. Leadership and the New Science by Meg Wheatley. The Rez Sisters by Thomson Highway. The Sacrifice by Andrei Tarkovsky. Tsawalk by Umeek. The tifo and creative support of the Vancouver Southsiders and the Swanguardians. Listening for the Heartbeat of God by J. Phillip Newell, Anam Cara by John O'Donohue, Loving What Is by Byron Katie, the leadership artistry of Khelsilem. Each of these, among many others, have ushered my over various thresholds in my life. They are all creative works, some are creative re-imaginings of spirituality, process work, and ways of living.

What practises, rituals, or habits contribute to your creative work?

It’s a combination of the openness and rest that is offered by my meditation practice and the rigour of playing scales on the guitar or forcing myself to write despite my mind’s resistance to being “productive” when I’m feeling dry.

When you get stuck creatively, what is the first thing you do to get unstuck?

Go for a walk.

If you had fifteen extra minutes each day, what would you do with them?

Lie on my back, close my eyes and listen to three pieces of very good music.

What has been one of your biggest Aha! moments in life?

The first time I witnessed a meeting held in Open Space, with 400 people in a room in Whistler in 1995. It completely transformed my facilitation and leadership practice, knowing that a group of people can self-organize action around issues that they care about. I’ve never looked back.

What object would you put in a time capsule that best represents who you are today?

My music library.

What is the one movie or book every creative must see/read?

You should read a book or seek out the traditional teachings of your place, of where you live, of the traditional territory you inhabit. Those aren’t always written down, but I feel that it is so important to know your place because if you create things that run counter to the place you are living you can perpetuate patterns of harm. Understand who you are, where you are and why you are there.

🎵 This month’s live musical guest is jazz & R&B guitarist, bandleader, and teacher (Teun Schut)[https://www.teunschut.ca].🎶

Originally from Holland, Schut has been playing guitar for five decades, studying and playing jazz, blues, and rock in bands and ensembles. Having toured around the world, Tuen settled in Bowen Island, where he continues to teach, play, and perform.

You don’t want to miss this! Register now.

#cmvan #creative #creativemornings #vancouver #yvr #community #home

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mhsn033 · 4 years

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Apple, Amazon, Facebook, Google defend firms against calls for break-up

Image copyright Getty Photos/EPA/Reuters

Image caption Amazon’s Jeff Bezos, Apple’s Tim Cook, Facebook’s Ticket Zuckerberg and Google’s Sundar Pichai defended their companies

The heads of some of the realm’s splendid tech companies bear looked sooner than Washington lawmakers to defend their companies towards claims they abuse their energy to quash rivals.

Amazon boss Jeff Bezos acknowledged the realm “wants dapper” companies, whereas the heads of Facebook, Apple and Google argued their companies had spurred innovation.

The looks to be comes as lawmakers hang into memoir harder regulations and rivals probes are underneath methodology.

Some critics want the companies broken up.

Democrats pressed the tech titans on rivals components, whereas Republicans had been more desirous about how they managed files and whether or not they had been marginalising conservative views.

Congressman David Cicilline, the Democrat leading the congressional committee holding the listening to, acknowledged a twelve months-long investigation by lawmakers had showed the on-line platforms had “wielded their energy in destructive, execrable programs in negate to amplify”.

He acknowledged he turned into as soon as convinced the companies had been monopolies and called for motion.

“Some favor to be broken up and all favor to be smartly regulated,” he acknowledged on the tip of bigger than 5 hours of testimony.

Facebook’s Ticket Zuckerberg, Amazon’s Jeff Bezos, Sundar Pichai of Google, and Tim Cook of Apple insisted they had done nothing unlawful and harassed out the American roots and values of their companies.

What are the major concerns in regards to the tech giants?

On the listening to, lawmakers accused Google of getting stolen stammer material created by smaller companies, like State, in negate to serve users on their possess websites.

Amazon’s treatment of sellers on its field, Facebook’s acquisition of rivals reminiscent of Instagram, and Apple’s App retailer also drew consideration.

Image copyright EPA

Image caption In step with claims Google had stolen stammer material, Google boss Sundar Pichai acknowledged the company held itself to the “best probably usual”

Mr Cicilline acknowledged Amazon had an inherent warfare of curiosity, since it both hosts sellers and competes towards them by offering linked merchandise. Such observe has also arrive underneath scrutiny from European regulators.

“Amazon’s twin aim… is basically anti-competitive and Congress must hang motion,” he acknowledged.

However, some Republicans signalled they weren’t ready to destroy up up the companies or significantly overhaul US rivals legal guidelines, with one committee member announcing “big is no longer inherently snide”.

Republican concerns centered on perceived political bias on the companies, which they accused of suppressing conservative views.

“I am going to magnificent decrease to the slump – big tech is out to bag conservatives,” acknowledged Congressman Jim Jordan, a Republican from Ohio.

Tech giants face feeding frenzy

Four of the realm’s prime expertise firm executives may per chance per chance well bear been testifying sooner than the Judiciary Committee from a distance, nonetheless they had been quiet caught within the course of a political storm on Wednesday afternoon.

The acknowledged reason of the listening to turned into as soon as to deal with whether existing anti-belief legal guidelines provide ample regulations of transnational tech Goliaths. The actuality, nonetheless, turned into as soon as that the complaints – with every member of the committee receiving 5 minutes to dispute – had been more equivalent to a feeding frenzy, as corporate chiefs confronted criticism from every direction

Democrats expressed direct that the companies had been abusing their energy by disadvantaging rivals or procuring them out entirely. Republicans accused the witnesses of insufficient patriotism and being too cosy with the Chinese language.

All facets expressed outrage over how the companies managed speech and expression on their platforms. They didn’t scoot a long way ample in eradicating hateful rhetoric and unsuitable files, Democrats acknowledged. They singled out conservatives for censorship, the Republicans countered.

Thru it all, the witnesses thanked the questioners and took their lumps, per chance confident that they may per chance per chance well soon log off and bag serve to their work. While the total politicians looked to agree that the big tech companies had been a direct, their possibilities of arriving at any roughly resolution looks unlikely.

What did the companies direct?

Exhibiting by distant video, the executives defended their companies, announcing their merchandise helped smaller companies and as well they remained prone to rivals from newcomers.

Apple boss Tim Cook acknowledged the industry native weather turned into as soon as “so competitive I’d relate it as a avenue fight for market section within the smartphone industry”.

Mr Bezos, in his first look sooner than Congress, denied that Amazon’s multiple roles had been a warfare of curiosity, nonetheless he admitted the company turned into as soon as reviewing its dealing with of sales files from sellers on the field.

The firm has been accused of utilizing such files to originate its possess version of hot-selling merchandise.

Mr Bezos acknowledged Amazon tips forbid workers from taking a bear a examine sales files from particular particular person companies, nonetheless he conceded it turned into as soon as doable that workers had violated the coverage.

“We’re investigating that,” he acknowledged.

In his ready remarks, Mr Bezos acknowledged Amazon confronted indispensable rivals from companies reminiscent of Walmartand notorious that the firm misplaced cash for years because it branched out into contemporary areas.

“I love storage entrepreneurs – I turned into as soon as one. However, magnificent just like the realm wants little companies, it also wants dapper ones. There are issues little companies merely can not create,” he acknowledged.

Media playback is unsupported for your instrument

Media captionWATCH: Who’re the ‘big four’ and magnificent how a lot energy create they bear?

What has Donald Trump acknowledged?

US President Donald Trump is an extended-time critic of Amazon and threatened his possess motion on Twitter, writing: “If Congress doesn’t bring fairness to Mammoth Tech, which they ought to quiet bear done years within the past, I am going to create it myself with Govt Orders.”

He also told reporters that White House officers may per chance per chance well well be watching the listening to carefully.

“There is no ask that what the big tech companies are doing is extremely snide,” he acknowledged.

Tech analyst Dan Ives of Wedbush Securities acknowledged “storm clouds” had been building in Washington nonetheless he belief it turned into as soon as unlikely that Congress would arrive together on contemporary regulations that would power tech companies to exchange.

“We specialize in a legislative fix is the splendid one that creates a doable for obstacles on these companies’ ability to behavior industry, whether that takes the procedure of better taxes or contemporary tips relating to market concentration,” he wrote.

“Absent a legislative fix, we create no longer scrutinize meaningful exchange in regulations, even supposing future acquisitions will most surely be scrutinized and more subtle to shut.”

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

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The Freshest Boudin Noir in Lyon

Israel Hervas Bengochea/Shutterstock

In an excerpt from his new memoir, “Dirt,” Bill Buford attends a countryside pig killing

Bill Buford’s Heat, published in 2006, chronicled the writer’s efforts to master Italian cooking, a journey that necessitated complete immersion in Italian restaurant kitchens and culinary traditions. In Dirt: Adventures in Lyon as a Chef in Training, Father, and Sleuth Looking for the Secret of French Cooking, out May 5, he sets his sights on French tradition.

It’s a quest that takes Buford and his family — his wife and twin sons — to Lyon, the impenetrable capital of French gastronomy. To learn the secrets of French cooking therein, Buford once again opts for full immersion into the various pillars of French cuisine, from tailing a boulanger, to attending French culinary school, to staging in a Michelin-starred restaurant. In this excerpt from Dirt, he attends an exclusive French culinary tradition: la tuaille — in other words, a pig killing. — Monica Burton

I got myself invited to a pig killing. Actually, I worked for it: I begged, I promised faithfulness to the cause, I declared my carnivore integrity, until, finally, I was rewarded with a nervously proffered invitation.

Boudin noir, blood in a piece of pig’s intestine, was ubiquitous in Lyon — few foods went better with a pot of Beaujolais — but it was sold already cooked, even from your local butcher: Go home, reheat, and serve. The boudin noir we planned to make after killing our pig (along with other, principally tubular porcine expressions) would be steamingly fresh. It was said to be nothing like the commercial stuff.

Buy Dirt now at Amazon or Bookshop.

I had some crude logistical curiosities, like how you got the blood out of the pig and into an intestine: which was cleaned — how exactly? Or was there a lingering stink that the Lyonnais regarded, characteristically, as a flavor enhancer? I was also attracted to the visceral reality of killing an animal (how — with our hands?) that you would then eat (the sanctity of the act). Mère Brazier used to make her own boudin noir. So, famously, did Fernand Point.

As it happened, the farm that hosted the boudin-noir making was not far from where a certain Menon had raised the orchard-fed pigs whose blood Point coveted. It was a gravelly hilltop on the other side of the Rhône River from La Pyramide, among what could well have been orchard fruit trees — hard to tell in midwinter, stark trunks, every- thing dirt brown, under a silver-white sky that was huge and very cold. As in Italy, the French slaughter and cure their pigs only in the winter. Refrigeration is a modern contrivance, and pig curing is not modern.

I was taken to the farm by Ludovic Curabet, the only member of the team prepared to share his last name.

Ludovic was in his thirties — dark hair, fit, youthful — and committed to continuing the old ways. He was, in effect, a pig intellectual. He knew how pigs were cured in Spain, the Po Valley in Italy, the Alps, and especially here, the Rhône. He was also among the few people who still practiced (and admitted that they were practicing) a local rite called la tuaille. La tuaille translates as “the killing,” but, in the Rhône and the south of France, it refers to the ritualized seasonal slaughter of a family pig, and includes some early-morning drinking, the eating of abundant freshly made boudin noir, followed by some midday drinking, some early-afternoon drinking, and then some late-afternoon drinking. Around Lyon, you see black-and-white photographs of tuailles — pictures pinned to the wall of a bouchon — featuring tired and bespattered people, often cross-eyed, but very happy.

What we were doing was legal, although there was a belief that it wouldn’t be for long. The European Union tolerates old-fashioned pig killings, provided they are for farmers’ private consumption. But such is their fear of the European Union, many farmers believe that they are the last generation. In fact, Ludovic asked if we could film the killing. He wanted to record it for his children.

The other two members of our team were both named Claude. One was the farmer. One was a butcher.

“Farmer Claude” was in his early seventies, tall, lean, slightly stooped, a long face, busily expressive white eyebrows, which, in effect, “talked” much more than he did, since he said almost nothing. He seemed bemused by our endeavor, ideologically committed to it but nervous about the possible fallout. Ludovic had persuaded him that I could be trusted.

Farmer Claude escorted me into a dirt courtyard adjoining the house, where Butcher Claude was waiting for us. He talked even less than Farmer Claude. Five words. Maybe less. He was about fifty-five, a little hefty, and in a white coat, as though he had just driven up from the shop in town. He was standing over a rectangular wooden pallet, pulling apart a bale of hay, and piling it on top. This was for a bonfire. After the animal was killed, Ludovic told me, she would be set alight to burn off the hair. (The pigs we eat are either sows or castrated males. The meat of a fully testicular male? Disgusting.) You burn off the hair to get to the skin. Pigs are the only farm animals not normally skinned, because their fat isn’t integrated into the muscle, but resides between the muscle and the skin. If you skin a pig, you risk losing the fat, and the fat underneath translates into both belly cuts and the creamy white fat that goes into sausages.

Pig fat, Ludovic said, is good.

Boudin noir has its modest literature — in the Odyssey, Homer describes a stomach filled with blood and fat being roasted over a fire, and Apicius, the first-century Roman epicurean, has a preparation enriched by eggs, pine nuts, onions, and leeks. The origins of the word itself are obscure but probably hark back to a now lost colloquial usage during the Roman settlement of Gaul. (The boud- of boudin may be derived from the Roman bod-, which is “to inflate or bulge,” just as the intestines fill up.) The preparation is among the oldest on the planet, older than the Romans or the Greeks, and probably dates to the earliest days of animal domestication (circa 10,000 B.C. if not before — i.e., circa the discovery of fire — if only because it satisfies the universal philosophical imperative understood by every premodern farmer and hunter lucky enough to have an animal to eat: Waste nothing.

Butcher Claude continued building up the bonfire. Ludovic chopped onions and cooked them in a sauté pan over a Bunsen burner while Farmer Claude assembled an antique-seeming cast-iron kettle. It was like a very large teapot that he half-filled with water and set upon a three-legged stand like a barbecue. He stacked kindling underneath and lit it. The fire crackled, a lazy morning smoke, smelling of pine. This was where the boudin, once made, would be cooked, here in the cold, open air.

In the obvious absence of small talk, I wandered around the courtyard and came upon an animal pen — a low wooden door, a window with iron bars. How curious that I hadn’t noticed it before. I stooped to peer inside. I saw our pig. The pig saw me. It was a startling moment. The animal was suddenly so there, and much larger than I expected. Two hundred kilos, about 450 pounds. It was furry, not pink, with white hair and brown spots.

The squeal said: I am in danger! It said: Run!

I dropped down to look inside again. This, I couldn’t help myself from observing, was a beautiful animal.

Pigs are the most intelligent of domesticated livestock and interpret their surroundings more efficiently than other animals. They also panic easily, and the panic often expresses itself in the taste of the meat.

In an instant, I realized why everyone had been so quiet. They were trying to be invisible.

The pig began to squeal.

Did I just do that?

The others hadn’t looked. For them, there was no pig: We’re just farmers going about our business, ho hum, a normal morning, big animal in a dinky stone pen, no big deal.

But I had looked and, like that, I had hit the squeal button.

Wow. It wasn’t a squeal. It was a wide-open, high-volume, high-pitched cry. It didn’t enter the brain; it pierced it, or at least it seemed to, my brain anyway, and with such an intensity that I wanted to do something about it. Urgently.

The squeal said: I am in danger! It said: Run!

It said: Find me, help me, save me. On and on and on.

Pigs had figured in Daniel Boulud’s childhood. They were like storybook companions, more like dogs and people than cows and sheep. (The observation is not mine, but of the animal anthropologist Juliet Clutton-Brock.) Boulud loved his pet pigs. But every year, when he was in the house eating breakfast, he’d hear the squeal. This kind of squeal. By then, as he was irrationally sprinting toward the sound without entirely understanding why (since he knew he was already too late), the pig was dead.

Was my pig so smart that she could see my thinking about her being dead? (Had I been?) Because, no question, the pig now knew she was going to die.

Fifteen minutes later, the farmer opened the pen door. The butcher put a rope around the animal’s neck and snout. The pig wouldn’t come out.

Butcher Claude and Farmer Claude pulled her from the front. Ludovic and I got in from behind, pushing her butt. She resisted with all the strength and adrenaline of her considerable 450 pounds. The ground was half frozen, and her hooves plowed shallow rows in the hard dirt. When she was next to the pallet, she was toppled over.

The back legs needed to be secured at the ankles. I was surprised by her strength, four of us on top of her, trying to get her limbs to cooperate. The squealing never stopped, until finally the ankles were secured, and I relaxed my grip, and the pig went quiet. She turned her head — she had to twist it round — and looked at me. Her gaze was intense, and it wasn’t easy to turn away from. It said: Don’t kill me.

“Get the bucket,” Ludovic told me. He pointed. It was nearby. “Now kneel, there.” Là.

I got down, just in front of the animal. She lurched and bucked, but the movements were small.

“As the bucket fills, stir,” Ludovic said. “Steady and quickly. To keep it from coagulating.”

Butcher Claude relaxed the rope. I glimpsed the knife briefly. He had kept it hidden — I hadn’t known it was there — and had come up to the throat from below, just out of the pig’s vision, and slit the artery below the Adam’s apple.

I thought: I could never do that.

There was no reaction. The pig didn’t seem to feel the slice. The deed was done.

Ludovic began working a front leg, up and down, like a pump — the pig continued to squeal but the squeal was diminishing. Blood streamed into my bucket from the gash, bright red. It steamed. I stirred. To stop the coagulation? Then I understood. Yes! To stop it! The blood was forming into strings, quickly and densely.

“Stir,” Ludovic said. “Remuez. Vite.”

I thought: I’m going to ruin it. The whole day has been structured around boudin noir, which we now won’t be able to make because I didn’t understand coagulation.

The threads were now wrapping themselves up and down my fingers. The surface of the blood looked normal, a little frothy, but underneath a plastic spiderweb was forming.

“Vite. Vite.”

The blood tasted pure. Can something taste red? This was red. It was invigorating, in every obvious sense.

Faster. Faster. Faster. And then, finally, the threads began to dissolve, and then, once they started, they finished dissolving, and in seconds — some threshold having been crossed —they were gone.

The pig sighed. It was deep, like a yawn. It was the sound of a big person about to go to sleep.

She sighed again.

I looked down. The blood came about halfway up the bucket. Shouldn’t there be more? Such a big animal. There was more than a gallon, but not much more.

She sighed again, a smaller sound.

I looked at her. Her face had gone pale. I thought: Pigs, too, lose their color. Her eyes went milky. She was dead. We were done.

Butcher Claude gave me a ladle. “Goûtez,” he said. Taste.

I was confused. He keeps a ladle in his back pocket?

Ludovic said, “Non. Il faut l’assaisonner.” It needed seasoning. He fetched salt and pepper.

“Now. Goûtez.”

I got up off my knees. The hairs on my arm were matted red. My shirt and jeans were splattered.

“Goûter?”

Really?

“Oui.”

I dipped the ladle into the bucket and tasted. It was warm. Rich. It was thick and weighty on my palate. The seasoning was almost obtrusive, but also welcome: It was intensifying.

I dipped my ladle back into the bucket. The men laughed. “More?”

I was trying to identify the taste. Frankly, I was also getting a serious buzz. Was that the blood? Or the overwhelming fact of everything, this animal, the intimacy, the killing, the coagulation, the courtyard, this morning. I dipped the ladle back into the blood. I was flying.

The men were laughing hard.

“You like?”

“I like,” I said. I liked it a lot. The blood tasted pure. Can something taste red? This was red. It was invigorating, in every obvious sense.

The bucket was put in a shady corner. The bonfire was lit. The pig burned until it was charred and black. We scrubbed the skin. The hair came off. The head was removed, the body cavity opened up, the stomach expanding as though having been buckled into too-tight pants. The entrails were removed. And then everything began to slow down, the particular business of honoring every organ and muscle and joint of a just-killed animal.

I was given the lungs.

“Blow them up,” Ludovic said.

And I did, a pair of pretty pink balloons (a remarkable hue, unused to air or light), and I tied them (like a balloon), and Ludovic nailed them to a wooden post to dry out.

We yanked out intestines, the upper ones, a long hose, fifty feet, maybe more, and squeezed out their brown contents by pulling a segment between a thumb and forefinger and moving the solids toward an opening. Ludovic had the hose. He gave me an intestine and asked me to blow into it to open — it was warm against my lips — and he rinsed it out. He then rolled it up in a ring on the ground.

(I thought: Really? Is that it?)

He removed the bladder, and squeezed out the liquid, like water in a balloon, a steamy stream.

“Here, this is for you to blow up, too.” He held it out in two hands, very reverential. “This, too, is an honor,” he said.

The others stopped and watched.

An honor, eh?

I took a deep breath. The wet mouth of the entry (salty), my wet lips.

I blew hard. Nothing.

The men laughed.

I took a deeper breath. I blew harder.

Nothing. More laughter.

I took a really deep breath, my face changing color — probably to something between red-pink and purple — and the bladder yielded.

I closed the passage with my thumb and forefinger, Ludovic looped it into a knot, and nailed it, too, to the post to dry out.

“For the poulet en vessie,” he said.

Ludovic mixed his sautéed aromatics into the blood, tasted, added salt and pepper, tasted again (like a chef finishing his sauce), added more pep- per. I inserted a funnel into the mouth of an intestine, and Ludovic poured. We twisted the intestine sausage-style at six-inch intervals, tied it closed, and looped the rope into a straw basket. When the basket was full we walked it over to the kettle — a hot vapor cloud when we opened the lid, not boiling, not even simmering — and eased a length of boudin inside.

A poem about preparing boudin noir was written by Achille Ozanne, a nineteenth-century chef and poet (he wrote bouncy poems about dishes he cooked for the king of Greece), and finds a loose rhyme between “frémissante” and “vingt minutes d’attente.” Frémissante is “trembling.” It describes the water: hot but not quite boiling. Vingt minutes d’attente — twenty minutes — is the approximate time that you keep the boudin submerged. It is akin to cooking a custard. It is done once it is only just done. You boil a custard, it curdles. You boil blood, it curdles. Ludovic pricked a casing with a needle. It was dry when it came out. The blood had solidified. He removed the boudin. I cooked the next one.

We carried our basket into a kitchen, and found a dozen people already there, preparing the accompaniments: roasted apples, potatoes, salad, bread, bottles of the local Côtes du Rhône, made by someone down the road, no labels. The room was warm, the windows were fogged up, and we ate, the boudin like a rich red pudding, spoilingly fresh, complexly fragrant of our morning pig, and we drank, and afterward went back out into the courtyard, feeling stiff and sleepy, to make sausages and other preparations that needed aging.

It doesn’t take long to kill a pig. But reassembling it into edible forms would take until nightfall. We had killed a beautiful animal. The food from it would last for months.

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I was taken to the farm by Ludovic Curabet, the only member of the team prepared to share his last name.

The other two members of our team were both named Claude. One was the farmer. One was a butcher.

Pig fat, Ludovic said, is good.

The squeal said: I am in danger! It said: Run!

I dropped down to look inside again. This, I couldn’t help myself from observing, was a beautiful animal.

In an instant, I realized why everyone had been so quiet. They were trying to be invisible.

The pig began to squeal.

Did I just do that?

The others hadn’t looked. For them, there was no pig: We’re just farmers going about our business, ho hum, a normal morning, big animal in a dinky stone pen, no big deal.

But I had looked and, like that, I had hit the squeal button.

The squeal said: I am in danger! It said: Run!

It said: Find me, help me, save me. On and on and on.

Was my pig so smart that she could see my thinking about her being dead? (Had I been?) Because, no question, the pig now knew she was going to die.

Fifteen minutes later, the farmer opened the pen door. The butcher put a rope around the animal’s neck and snout. The pig wouldn’t come out.

“Get the bucket,” Ludovic told me. He pointed. It was nearby. “Now kneel, there.” Là.

I got down, just in front of the animal. She lurched and bucked, but the movements were small.

“As the bucket fills, stir,” Ludovic said. “Steady and quickly. To keep it from coagulating.”

I thought: I could never do that.

There was no reaction. The pig didn’t seem to feel the slice. The deed was done.

“Stir,” Ludovic said. “Remuez. Vite.”

I thought: I’m going to ruin it. The whole day has been structured around boudin noir, which we now won’t be able to make because I didn’t understand coagulation.

The threads were now wrapping themselves up and down my fingers. The surface of the blood looked normal, a little frothy, but underneath a plastic spiderweb was forming.

“Vite. Vite.”

The blood tasted pure. Can something taste red? This was red. It was invigorating, in every obvious sense.

The pig sighed. It was deep, like a yawn. It was the sound of a big person about to go to sleep.

She sighed again.

I looked down. The blood came about halfway up the bucket. Shouldn’t there be more? Such a big animal. There was more than a gallon, but not much more.

She sighed again, a smaller sound.

I looked at her. Her face had gone pale. I thought: Pigs, too, lose their color. Her eyes went milky. She was dead. We were done.

Butcher Claude gave me a ladle. “Goûtez,” he said. Taste.

I was confused. He keeps a ladle in his back pocket?

Ludovic said, “Non. Il faut l’assaisonner.” It needed seasoning. He fetched salt and pepper.

“Now. Goûtez.”

I got up off my knees. The hairs on my arm were matted red. My shirt and jeans were splattered.

“Goûter?”

Really?

“Oui.”

I dipped the ladle into the bucket and tasted. It was warm. Rich. It was thick and weighty on my palate. The seasoning was almost obtrusive, but also welcome: It was intensifying.

I dipped my ladle back into the bucket. The men laughed. “More?”

The men were laughing hard.

“You like?”

“I like,” I said. I liked it a lot. The blood tasted pure. Can something taste red? This was red. It was invigorating, in every obvious sense.

I was given the lungs.

“Blow them up,” Ludovic said.

And I did, a pair of pretty pink balloons (a remarkable hue, unused to air or light), and I tied them (like a balloon), and Ludovic nailed them to a wooden post to dry out.

(I thought: Really? Is that it?)

He removed the bladder, and squeezed out the liquid, like water in a balloon, a steamy stream.

“Here, this is for you to blow up, too.” He held it out in two hands, very reverential. “This, too, is an honor,” he said.

The others stopped and watched.

An honor, eh?

I took a deep breath. The wet mouth of the entry (salty), my wet lips.

I blew hard. Nothing.

The men laughed.

I took a deeper breath. I blew harder.

Nothing. More laughter.

I took a really deep breath, my face changing color — probably to something between red-pink and purple — and the bladder yielded.

I closed the passage with my thumb and forefinger, Ludovic looped it into a knot, and nailed it, too, to the post to dry out.

“For the poulet en vessie,” he said.

It doesn’t take long to kill a pig. But reassembling it into edible forms would take until nightfall. We had killed a beautiful animal. The food from it would last for months.

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wellhalesbells · 7 years

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i’ve been getting a lot of messages lately (and unsurprisingly, considering how unrepentantly i’ve been reblogging stuff from them) from followers asking me for podcast recommendations - and i love getting those so thank you, guys! - and i thought i’d make a masterpost of what i’ve both a) finished and b) enjoyed since i’ve started bingeing them. and, as an extra added bonus, what has canonical lgbt+ representation (since i know what you guys are into [waggles eyebrows]).

1. the bright sessions

canon lgbt+ is a ✓. this is definitely the first podcast that i’ve fallen in love with as hard as my original gateway podcast: welcome to night vale. it’s so well-written, the characters well-drawn, the premise fascinating - atypicals, or people with some sort of special ability, in therapy - and it’s such a positive story and experience that i can’t help but feel better on days i listen to it. it really believes in humanity and that’s such a wonderful thing in this day and age. plus, the voice acting is killer.

2. eos 10

canon lgbt+ is a ✓. i don’t think it’s been officially confirmed that dr. dalias is, at the very least, bisexual (in fact, the official channels seem to be dancing around it, possibly so as not to spoil anything in the upcoming season), though it’s been hinted at plenty in story. especially as i don’t know how else you can explain a supposedly “straight” male character getting called out on repeatedly thinking about a naked man during a group mind-link experience. that aside, it is freaking hilarious. the premise is doctors in space, one formerly drug-addicted doctor helping to stabilize a currently alcoholic one with amazing side characters including nurse jane johns and levi, a hypochondriac alien and deposed prince who seems to have a personal vendetta against wearing pants. it’s well-acted, cleverly written and a freaking joy to listen too. so funny and so smart, i can’t recommend it enough!

3. the penumbra podcast

canon lgbt+ is a ✓. so much queer representation it’s bananas. this ask the creators got is actually pretty representative of their approach to the show, slyly funny and very gay. our main character is a genderbending queer private investigator who’s lost his heart head over a sweet-smelling thief with a heart of gold and more aliases than jennifer garner, all set against a noir backdrop. oh, and on mars. yeah, you read all of that right. there are a few awesome side stories as well, including a couple of horror ones (that have no effect on the main juno steel story line, so can be skipped - and the creators are VERY GOOD about warning what’s to come in the episode notes), as well as lesbian outlaws and a disabled knight. there’s literally nothing not to love. EXCEPT FOR HOW JUNO STEEL WON’T LET HIMSELF HAVE NICE THINGS.

4. the black tapes

hey, hi, if you’re into horror, suspense, creepery or demons, this is so very much for you. the premise is that alex reagan, our host, begins a podcast to interview people with interesting professions. she starts out with dr. richard strand, a paranormal investigator whose mission statement is to debunk all things paranormal. he even has an institute that offers a one million dollar prize for proof of the paranormal, which he has never even come close to having to part with. while alex is interviewing him, she comes across a handful of black vhs tapes: the only cases that strand hasn’t been able to definitively solve yet. the technology to disprove these incidents simply hasn’t come far enough, in his opinion. needless to say, she never moves on from dr. strand and the mystery of the black tapes. each episode, alex investigates another of the black tapes and much later on realizes it’s possible that they’re all connected. oh my god, i almost got chills just writing that, it’s so good, it’s so real, because dr. strand is such a good anchor to reality. alex will occasionally lose her skeptic’s perspective; dr. strand does not. and once alex starts experiencing intense insomnia, making you realize your narrator might not be so reliable? things somehow manage to get even murkier. i really, really adored this one. it’s paranormal set in the most normal of normal worlds, only making it that much spookier. or, alternatively, avoid this like the motherfucking plague. [curtsies] if you’re still intrigued, stop after season one. two, if you can’t find it in yourself to get off the ride any earlier. ZEUS HELP YOU IF YOU CONTINUE ON, I AM THE OLD MAN AT THE GAS STATION WARNING YOU TO GO BACK BEFORE YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR, ON YOUR HEAD BE IT IF YOU DECIDED NOT TO HEED IT.

5. wooden overcoats

canon lgbt+ is a ✓. okay, well, if you’ve ever watched black books? this is kind of like black books, aka one of my all-time favorite shows. rudyard funn is just as incapable and universally disliked as bernard black, which was all well and good when the village of piffling vale (which is very nearly a town, you know!) only had one funeral home to choose from. unfortunately, that’s not the case anymore. eric chapman has moved his funeral home right across the street and stolen all the business from rudyard, his embalmer (cum part-owner) and twin sister, antigone, and georgie, their assistant. to add insult to injury, he’s charming and universally adored by everyone except those at funn funerals. very british, very ridiculous, and very funny! WE GET THE BODY IN THE COFFIN IN THE GROUND ON TIME. (well, like that one time they did. [coughs])

6. ars pardoxica

canon lgbt+ is a ✓. i listened to this one pretty slowly, for me. it’s very much plot over character, at least in my opinion. which is fair since there’s quite a lot of plot and set dressing to establish. we’re following (dr.) sally grissom, a scientist from the twenty-first century who accidentally creates time travel and ends up stuck back in the 1940s. think a bombs and eisenhower. it was always interesting, and the paradoxes created by the time travel experiments they kept doing were fascinating (i love time travel stuff because of the paradoxes it creates) but i didn’t get really ravenous for it until season two, which is when i really felt it picked up speed. you’ve got anthony stuck in a literal CAGE - a “blackroom” bubble set outside of time, sally trying to garden (oh god), a gang consisting of a veteran, a (former) widow and time doubles trying to bring down ODAR (the company sally used to work for, and that anthony still does) and esther sliding down the ladder of morally unsound one determined rung at a time and it makes for a REALLY grabbing audio drama, eh?

7. the strange case of starship iris

canon lgbt+ is a ✓. i’m already in love with violet liu, all right? she’s a science officer on starship iris--well, what was starship iris. when we first join violet, every single one of her crew mates has just died in an explosion on the pod they were traveling off ship with and the starship iris is in its last throes as well. luckily(?) a passing ship comes along with a plan to get her to safety. this has a real illuminae vibe to it (which is an amazing book btw) and all the characters are already so freaking likable. it’s only on episode two and already shaping up to be a favorite!

8. the orbiting human circus (of the air)

canon lgbt+ is a ✓. if there’s a more heart-warming podcast out there, then i haven’t run across it yet. first of all, julian koster’s voice is so vulnerable and soft that i would use myself and everyone i know and also puppies as a shield against everything terrible in the universe for him. second, the rest of the cast - leticia especially - is just as freaking talented. the premise is that julian is the janitor at a radio show that broadcasts from the top of the eiffel tower and has strange and impossible acts every night, from tale-telling crickets to singing saws to the orkestral, a bird that can play every orchestral instrument (except that it refuses to play the viola, because reasons). it’s fun and cute and breaks your heart with happiness regularly and often!

9. alice isn’t dead

canon lgbt+ is a ✓. this is a horror podcast about a truck driver who is looking for her missing wife. jasika nicole has to have one of my favorite voices around and having it be so heavily dependent on that makes me ridiculously happy. throw in the story-telling of joseph fink, the depth and cohesiveness of his writing, and there is nothing not to love here.

10. within the wires

canon lgbt+ is a ✓. this is really sufficiently creepy considering it’s not often overtly creepy. this is set up as a series of relaxation tapes, which progressively get more and more interested in helping the listener break out of the facility in which she’s being kept. super chilling at times, because the voice is so calm and the action so dangerous.

11. welcome to night vale

canon lgbt+ is a ✓. okay, well, what more can be said about this at this point? if you’re not listening to it, you’re wrong. why wouldn’t you want to visit a town that can’t be visited and where every conspiracy theory is real and a part of everyday life? yeah, everyone knows about the vague yet menacing government agency, steve carlsberg, you’re not hitting on anything new there. there’s a dog park that doesn’t allow dogs, angels that are never to be identified as angels, mountains that aren’t real, a glow cloud that--ALL HAIL and a love story so complete and perfect that it can and will utterly steal your breath at times. go, listen, inhale.

#welcome to night vale #the bright sessions #eos 10 #the penumbra podcast #the black tapes #wooden overcoats #ars paradoxica #the strange case of starship iris #the orbiting human circus (of the air)#alice isn't dead #within the wires #podcast recommendations #uh oh i've found the keyboard again #1 < 5k

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bolt8826 · 7 years

Text

Two-hundred and sixteenth letter received

A sequel to Letter two hundred and sixteen, it’s a bucket of angst

This is my first long fic. I’m a bit nervous. I hope you all like it!

Tagging all these lovely people: @catchthespade @maidofstars @2bedroom-baddestbidderlove @revance-official @atinykawaii

5:00 AM

*BEEP* *BEEP* BEEP* All too soon the familiar, shrill tone of my alarm jolts me out of my sleep. Getting out of bed is always hard. But day by day, it just gets harder. A few months ago I’d still be fast asleep at this time. I’d be curled up next to him. I sigh.

My room is a mess, I can barely find my uniform in the clutter. I see it wadded up in a corner. I must have thrown it over there last night. I’m too exhausted these days to worry about keeping anything neat. I grab it, giving it a quick shake. It’s wrinkly and slightly dirty, but it doesn't really matter. Its not like I'm working around celebrities and the high class anymore. I laugh, “I cant even begin to imagine anyone from the IVC, ever stepping a foot in the motel.” When I left the Tres Spades I grabbed a train, not giving a damn where it went, just so long as it was far away. And that’s how I ended up here. It’s a small town, almost painfully small, despite having a university nearby. I work at one of the two motels here. Unfortunately, it’s the infinitely more seedy establishment. It’s often used as a rest stop for bikers, and wanderers. Those who wish to forget their stories. I guess I fit then. I work as a maid there. Of course. It’s hard to escape the past I guess.

I look around as I get dressed. My eyes land on the group of photos on my dresser. The first is one of Chiasato, Sakiko and I, our arms are around each other. We’re at a our favorite band’s concert, all decked out in merchandise, grinning our fool heads off. The second is a snap shot of Ota, Baba and I. In it I’m frowning with my arms crossed, though it’s obvious I’m trying not to laugh. Baba and Ota are both covered in paint, making a mess of epic proportions. I get a head ache even thinking about it, the cleaning took hours. At least Eisuke…At least he made them help me clean, although Ota complained the entire time. That brings me to the third of the group. My eyes trail over the turned over frame. I don't have to look at it to know exactly what’s there. It’s evening. The sunset coats the rooftops, painting Eisuke and I in vibrant colors. We’re at one of the thousands of parties he used to take me to, I can’t say who hosted it, all I know is that we were on the rooftop of some important business building. We were waltzing, I was doing it poorly, but he made up for it. Of course he was an amazing dancer. As we danced it felt like it was just him and me in the world. Like we were infinite. But It was one of the last times I felt close to him, before the break up. This picture marked the beginning of the end for us. i honestly don't know why I don’t just throw the picture away. I can handle all the other photos of the bidders and my friends at the Tres Spades, but, I don't know…this one is just especially painful, and yet, I still can’t bear to part with it. With him.

He’s still got his hold on me.

Why can’t he just let me go?

Doesn’t he know that those letters are a constant reminder of what is lost?

Of what can’t be fixed?

It hurts.

All I want it to forget. I swallow loudly. My heard hurts.

My stomach rumbles, breaking me out of my painful reverie. I plod over to the kitchen and make myself some coffee. It’s funny, I was never fond of the taste, but recently I’ve been craving it.

Leaning sleepily against the counter, I wait for the caffeine buzz to kick in. I hear the soft patter of feet as my roommate, Suzu, walks in looking just as tired as I feel. We share a quick nod of acknowledgement. I wonder idly as I stir the remnants of my coffee, if the exhaustion is from pulling an all-nighter studying, or from a hang over. I don’t know. We don’t talk much. One might think that we would get along famously, after all, I’m only a little bit older than her. But we just don’t. It’s not that we hate each other or anything. She’s not awful by any means, but she’s just content with her school friends, and I’m swamped with work. As I watch her groggily pour herself cereal and grab a cup of coffee, I find myself, not for the first time, missing my old life. I miss Sakiko and Chiasato. I even miss Erika and the twins. I miss having a place where people care to ask how I am, or even remember my name. The staff at the motel is certainly not as tight knit as the Tres Spades. The closest thing I have to a work friend there is Shika who works the front desk, and even then, it’s pushing it to call her a friend. All I know about her is that she just showed up in town one day -like me- got a job at the motel, and she's been there ever since. But that was ages ago.

Shika isn’t much of a talker, she's really fiercely private. It took me weeks to even learn her first name, and I still don’t even know her last name! I guess I should count myself lucky to know her backstory at least.

Suzu’s voice breaks me out of my train of thought. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask, who’s the person who sends you a letter everyday? I see you get a letter written on the same stationery everyday, but you always return them.”

I’m slightly surprised, “You noticed that, huh?

She leans back on the counter grabbing what seems to be her second cup of coffee.

“Late night?” I ask.

She shrugs “Paper due, anyways, what’s the whole deal?”

“It’s…..complicated.”

“Well who ever it is, and whatever the situation may be, you should at least answer once, maybe it’ll make them stop. When ever I check the mail I always think its either my pay check or taxes, I can’t handle the emotional rollercoaster, and from the looks of of it, you can’t either” She looks at me as she takes a sip of her coffee, looking contemplative.

“Hey, doesn’t your shift start soon?” she asks.

I look at the clock, 5:30 AM, “SHIT!”

She chuckles “Same.”

I shoot her a thankful grin.

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!! Why the hell I signed up for the 6′o clock shift on a Saturday after working the late night shift Friday, I don’t know. Forgoing any sort of substantial breakfast, I quickly drain the rest of the lukewarm coffee from my mug. a I sprint out the door, barely managing to remember to grab my house keys. I continue my frantic sprint all the way to the motel.

When I finally arrive, completely out of breathe. My legs are coated with dust from sprinting down the dirt caked road. I make a quick job of dusting my self off. I once again sigh. “I’m really a mess aren’t I?” Right before I open the door I hear the low grumble of a man’s voice.

“Hey hun, you all right? Some body chasin’ ya? Saw you kickin’ up a dust storm. Do you need me t’be your shining knight?” The unknown man says with clear amusement. I turn around to see my “savior”, “Piss off Arata”

“Ay, not harm no foul, so cool it, babe,” his cocky smirk makes me want to punch him in the face. He’s like a small town Baba, only without the looks, and charm. Just double the punch-ability. Arata is one of my other co-workers, and I only have one maybe work friend, and it sure as hell isn't him.

“Whatever, just leave me alone, and take your smoke break. Also, it’s 5:55 AM, why the hell do you need a smoke break already?”

“It’s never too early for a smoke break sweetheart,” he grins as he takes a drag of his cigarette, leaning against the wall of the building.

I shudder, pushing the door open. Shika is there at the front desk, reading a magazine unconcernedly. While you would be scolded at the Tres Spades for such behavior, nobody here really gives a damn.

“You just made it in time. Manager left already, he gave me this list to give to you,” she says, not looking up from the magazine.

“He’s gone already?”

She looks up and gives me a knowing look.

The owner and manager Yuu, was infamous for day drinking. And drinking in general to be honest.

“You know, he has to get an early start to fit it all in.”

She chuckles, and hands me the list.

“Thanks,” I say as I take the paper.

“Uh huh,” she gives me an noncommittal grunt, already absorbed in the magazine again.

I sigh once more, and look at the task list. First off, laundry. Looking at the mountain of soiled bedsheets and towels, covered with stains I don't even want to begin to imagine the origins of, I think to myself “One thing is for sure, I sure as hell downgraded work wise.” And I soon get to work.

After a ten hour shift fending off creepy guys trying to hit on me, attempting to make conversation with Shika, and bearing the brunt of Arata’s bullshit, I can finally go home. I make the trek back, thankfully not having to sprint the way there.

Suzu is sitting on the doorstep reading a book when I get back. She looks up and sees me.

“Hey, long day?” she asks as she stretches up.

“I’m used to it. What’s up?”

“Not much, just trying to catch up on reading,” she frowns, “and it’s dreadfully boring. Oh and by the way, mail’s here,” she holds up the mail, and there it is. That familiar expensive stationary.

“Here,” she tosses it to me, “and remember what I said this morning. And I know we don’t talk a whole lot, but I’m here if you need to talk to someone,”

“Okay, and thank you. I’ll remember that,” I smile and I walk past her to go inside. She returns to her book.

“Good luck with that,” I gesture to her book.

“Yeah, and you too,” she grins back at me.

I make my way back to my cluttered room. I throw the letter on the desk as I slump down. I’ve been doing this everyday. Every damn day. For two hundred and sixteen days. Closing my eyes, I rest my head on the desk. Suzu’s words echo in my head. I really should deal with this. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid of getting the answer to the questions I ask myself every night

“Why didn’t you try harder to stop me?”

“Why didn't you follow me when I left?”

“Did you stop loving me?”

“Because I never stopped loving you Eisuke.”

I sit up. I take a deep breath, and I reach for the letter. This letter won’t return unread.

#eisuke ichinomiya #kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #voltage inc #voltage otome #voltage fanfic #voltage mc #voltage games #voltage fandom #mamoru kishi #Mitsunari Baba #Ota Kisaki #Soryu Oh #shuichi hishikura #Luke Foster #luke forster #hikaru aihara

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lynchgirl90 · 7 years

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#TwinPeaks Star Kyle MacLachlan Reflects on Agent Cooper's Past and Looks Toward His Future

In an interview with THR, the actor relives some of his favorite memories from the original 'Twin Peaks' run and offers a tease or two about what's ahead.

During a recent appearance on The Tonight Show, host Jimmy Fallon asked Kyle MacLachlan what the actor could reveal about the upcoming Twin Peaks revival. His answer, of course, was virtually nothing, except for one tongue-in-cheek tease: "It was damn good coffee."

It's no wonder MacLachlan can't say much, given Twin Peaks creators David Lynch and Mark Frost's insistence on keeping the Showtime series' story under tight wraps. Few characters are shrouded in more uncertainty than MacLachlan's Agent Dale Cooper, with the possible exception of Audrey Horne (Sherilyn Fenn), who seemingly exploded in the final episode of the series. (Fenn is one of the more than 200 actors aboard the revival; it's a good bet she survived the blast, but then again, who knows?! This is Twin Peaks, where dead does not always mean dead.) In the season two finale, Cooper entered the dark spiritual realm known as the Black Lodge, where he became the newest vessel for Killer BOB (played by the late Frank Silva), the denim-wearing demon responsible for killing Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee) and condemning her father Leland (Ray Wise) in the process.

What version of Agent Cooper will we see in the new Twin Peaks, set 25 years after that devastating cliffhanger? Will it be the soulful optimist who loves few things more than a damn good coffee paired with a slice of cherry pie? Or will it be a BOB in Coop's clothing, bursting through the Douglas firs to terrorize this eccentric Pacific Northwest town over the past two decades and change?

Of course, MacLachlan won't say one way or the other. He's much happier to weigh in on the process of filming the new Twin Peaks, reuniting with Lynch once again after several years apart, and what it was like to live through some of the most iconic moments of the series: the Red Room and the bananas BOB twist included. Here's what he told The Hollywood Reporter about all of that and more.

How are you feeling, now that the world is days away from putting eyes on the new Twin Peaks?

It's funny, isn't it? It feels exactly that way: a long time coming. But it feels like we're all coming into focus now, and everyone is turning our way. It's very exciting. There's been a lot of activity.

How often were you thinking about Agent Cooper in the years since you last played the character?

You know, off and on through the time that it was not on. It's a character who really stayed with me. He's one of the greatest characters that I have ever played, certainly. I always thought in the back of my mind that we could actually return there at some point in time if the stars aligned. It's not that I was sitting around hoping it would happen, but I felt it would be kind of fun were it to happen. It was always a "what if." Were it to happen, it would be really fun to revisit. It wasn't something where I was thinking, "We have to get this done." It was more, "Well, let's see what happens. Let's see if a story develops with David and Mark."

There are several reasons why Agent Cooper has endured as a character, including the fact that he's such a soulful and optimistic force in what's often a bleak world. Do you view him that way?

Definitely. I'm kind of that way in life. I tend to be more optimistic than the other way. The glass is always half full, I think, at least in most things — maybe not my golf game. (Laughs.) But! As far as the show and that character, he's intuitive and he's obviously empathic. He has a great love of the people around him, and a great love for them. I think he considers himself a fortress against whatever the dark side might be — the world of BOB and all of that — and I think he takes that role very seriously. To be able to step back into the suit and continue on this journey has been really fun and rewarding.

No, not at all. When I spoke with David about it, and he told me what was happening, we didn't talk much about the journey itself, just that he and Mark were working on this. I was excited about the prospect, because he said, "I'm going to be directing every episode." And I felt, "Wow." If you're going to return to Twin Peaks, there's no better way to do it than to have the creator also be the director of every frame. That, to me, was very exciting. But no, no trepidation at all. Just excitement, and curiosity, certainly, about what the story was going to be, and the journey that Cooper was going to be taking.

You and Lynch have worked together on a variety of projects, and there are few better people to weigh in on what it's like to work on a Lynch film set. Can you describe the experience?

He's unlike anything else. The environment he creates for us is so supportive. There's a lot of humor involved. There's tremendous focus. There's a clarity of vision. If for some reason he's not sure about something, he sits and thinks about it until he's sure. There's no forward steps without knowing where we're going. But that's not to say he's not open to happy accidents, as well. That's one of the catchphrases about David's process: If there's something that happens that's unexpected or accidental, as opposed to rejecting it outright, oftentimes he welcomes it in. He counts it as life. Those things can be very revealing and important. There's room for that in the creative process. It's a real pleasure working with him, whether you're talking to an old-timer like me or people who have just come on for the first time. To a person, they'll say that it was one of the best working experiences they have ever had.

The revival is shrouded in secrecy. We know nothing about the story, except that it takes place 25 years after the original series' cancellation. What's your view on all of the secrecy, the fact that the details of the plot are being held so close to the chest?

I think it's terrific. I'm excited about the idea. I'm actually thrilled about the idea, that we've been able to keep it under wraps, which was the idea from the very, very beginning. When I had my first reading of the script, I read it at the studio in a room by myself. Of course, I didn't tell them I took photographs of every page … (Laughs). No, I didn't do that. They let me read it all the way through, and then I had to pass the script back. The pages were then distributed out, and I was one of the ones who had most of the script, which I needed. Most people just received what was pertinent to them. Again, it was an effort to keep things contained, and also to help us. That way, if anyone asks us about the story, we could say, "I don't really know!" As opposed to feeling an obligation to say something, or maybe you would feel compelled out of your own sense of whatever to say it's about this or this. There were no opportunities for that. I love that people are going to be embarking on this fresh. For something that's so well known, it's going to be a whole new journey. I think that's wonderful.

The only thing I can say is that the journey continues. I have said it's almost as if Twin Peaks never stopped. The world of Twin Peaks, the environment and the town and the people, have all continued to live on, and now we're dipping back into that world and taking a further journey with them. We'll catch up on what's happened after these 25 years. Beyond that, I can't say much, other than it's David's vision. I feel like it's going to be something that's as unexpected and compelling as the original was when it was first broadcast — in a different way, of course. But it has that same kind of power and magic going forward. I, like you and many people, am curious to see how the audience is going to respond.

Lynch has talked about viewing the new Twin Peaks as an 18-hour movie, versus an eight-episode television series. Do you agree with the distinction?

It was definitely a different structure. Instead of traditional episodes that were handed out one by one, this came as a very long feature. He's made a point of calling them "hours" or "parts." In his mind, he's directed an 18-hour movie that was fractured into 18 installments. It's different in the telling of the story; maybe not different in the playing, because the scripts were already broken into scenes, anyway. You're concentrating on smaller pieces. But when you go to assemble it? I'm sure the editors were looking at it and going, "What are we going to do?!" The assemblage, I'm sure, was very different.

The reading was one thing. When you actually get into the environment, it's completely different. David was having us do some unusual things, like walking backwards. I didn't do too much backwards stuff, thank god, but Mike Anderson (The Man From Another Place) and Sheryl Lee (Laura Palmer) had to do some backward talking. We all know how that can translate when it's run forward: It's oddly disturbing and surprisingly effective for such a simple technique. I knew going in that it was going to be a little bit strange, and I was also wondering, "Is this going to work?" That's the thing: You can shoot it backwards, but at that time, you weren't able to run it forwards to see what you could expect. They could play the audio back so you could see how close you were to matching, to see if people could understand what you were saying — which is why they provided the subtitles as well, I think. You knew something odd was being created, but you didn't know the impact yet.

It ended up being quite iconic.

Oh, yeah. Super frightening. And unexpected, too. I think a lot of people sat up on their couches and exclaimed: "What am I watching here?" (Laughs.) "This doesn't seem like any TV that I've seen before!" And that was the idea.

A personal favorite moment is when Cooper throws rocks at bottles in order to narrow down suspects in the Laura Palmer case...

Yeah, me too. (Laughs.) It was such a great day. We were outside, drinking coffee, having fun, and I was just there throwing rocks at bottles. There are few things as satisfying as throwing rocks at a bottle, with the expectation being that if it hits, it's going to explode. It was really perfect, actually. David had no problem just rolling. We were burning film in those days. We were burning through thousand-foot mags, as I kept throwing rocks. He was shooting from behind me so he could see the whole thing. I missed a ton. And I said, "David, are you sure you don't want to cut?" And he goes, "Nope, we'll keep rolling." I threw a bunch, and I finally nicked a bottle or something. It took a while. There were a few very close ones. But what he was capturing, and I didn't realize this, is that everyone was watching me, and each time I threw a rock there would be a [collective gasp from the crew]. You think it's going to happen! You never really get tired of watching, because you think, "This could be the rock that breaks the bottle!" I realized later that that's what he was going for. He was going for that moment of expectation that would hopefully be fulfilled. It just took me a very long time before I made it happen. (Laughs.) And then he gave everyone else a chance to throw rocks. We didn't film that, but everyone had their chance. It was such a fun day.

Season two of the series is something of a mixed bag, with a very strong start in those first nine episodes, before losing its way in the middle of the season, when Lynch became less involved. What was your experience of shooting that season?

I think we all felt the pressure to resolve the mystery. Not internally, but from outside. The studio was saying, "We need to figure out who killed Laura Palmer. People are crazy about this." I think it was episode nine where they have that final sequence [with Wise as Leland Palmer], which I thought was beautiful. Everything leading up to that was pretty amazing. It was a culmination of the big mystery. There's a variety of thoughts about what happened later. I personally thought the "Who killed Laura Palmer?" mystery was such a strong engine for the show onto which we laid all these eccentric and unusual characters and this incredibly unusual environment, that to come up with something equally compelling? It just didn't happen. It was a great potential for a story, it just somehow didn't capture the audience in the same way as, "Who killed Laura Palmer?" We were going forward and doing the best we could. It was an interesting enough storyline, but it wasn't interesting enough, you know what I mean? That's where we lost people. Once you give people the resolution to that, it's kind of done. I think we all realized that we revealed it all … maybe not too soon, necessarily, but maybe there was another way to keep it going where that question wasn't answered. (Pauses.) Anyway. That's me looking back! Hindsight and all. But the end of it all, the last episode of that season, it ended with what I thought was, "Okay! Now the engine's revved up again. We have a very interesting question of, 'What's going to happen now?'" Unfortunately, it was too late. Which is why it's so beautiful that we get to return after all of this time and pick the story up and move forward and hopefully have some answers.

It's one of the most brutal cliffhangers in television history. As we were speaking about before, Cooper is such an optimistic man, so to see you doing almost a Killer BOB impression … it's such a foreign way of looking at that character.

I was excited by it. I was already thinking, "This is a journey that's going to be very interesting." I don't know if we knew at that time that we had been canceled yet. But I remember thinking, "Wow, I am ready to go!" And of course it was nipped in the bud. But I was so excited about the idea of being able to explore, as an actor, what that might look like.

Did you work with Frank Silva at all to incorporate BOB's mannerisms into your performance?

No, not really. I watched what he did. When we were trying to do the mime thing towards the mirror — because he was on the other side — we worked on that in sequence. Apart from that? Not really. It was just trying to capture that moment, and whatever it was going to turn into. I didn't know what it would turn into.

What do you remember about working with Silva, who passed away a few years after the series ended? He was so memorably terrifying as Killer BOB.

He was a lovely guy. Quiet, and kind of funny, and very humble. He was nothing like the character he played. I find that this is more often the case than not, that the guys who play the villains are the nicest and sweetest guys you can possibly imagine. And that was Frank. He was such a sweetheart.

As we look forward, knowing that there's so little you can say about it, do you have an out-of-context way of describing the new Twin Peaks? A word or two that might not make sense right now, but maybe will make sense once we finish watching the season?

Oh, man! (Laughs.) I could probably come up with one, or two, but I would be worried that speculation would start, and then David would call me and say, "Okay, what did you do?" (Laughs.) I don't want to get in trouble! But there will be some interesting reveals, I think. Unexpected, too. Which is fun. I'll tell you what has been fun: It's been very fun to read and follow along with people's ideas and thoughts, and what they think they know, and watching that and smiling and going, "Ah, they have no idea what's coming." That's very fun.

Do you view this as the end, or as a new beginning?

It's a good question. I don't know. David has said: "Everything is Twin Peaks." It leads me to believe that there are other stories to tell. I think it's just a question of whether David and Mark want to tell them. I don't know. But I'm happy. Revisiting the character, working on this character again, was really such a thrill. And working with David again. It had been a long time since we had the director-actor relationship. That was spectacular. Hopefully it's not the last time. I hope there's more that we can do together, whether it's Twin Peaks or not.

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#Twin Peaks #Kyle MacLachlan #Agent Cooper #The Hollywood Reporter

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