Wm. rogers silver coffee pot 800
[Best Buy] Weekly Top Deals Sale at Best Buy: June 2 - 8 (PlayStation Days of Play, Square Enix, 2K, Samsung Shopping Event, Smart Home Sale, Outlet Center, more)
2023.06.03 00:29 lbabinz [Best Buy] Weekly Top Deals Sale at Best Buy: June 2 - 8 (PlayStation Days of Play, Square Enix, 2K, Samsung Shopping Event, Smart Home Sale, Outlet Center, more)
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submitted by lbabinz to VideoGameDealsCanada [link] [comments]
Samsung Shopping Event
Smart Home Sale
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Video Games
Video Games
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Samsung Shopping Event
| Item | Sale Price | MSRP | Savings |
|---|---|---|---|
| Samsung 30" French Door Refrigerator; Electric Air Fry Range; Dishwasher; Cookware Set - Stainless | 2999.99 | 3749.96 | 749.97 |
| Samsung Galaxy Smarttag Bluetooth Item Tracker - Black | 27.99 | 39.99 | 12.00 |
| Samsung Galaxy Tab S8 Ultra 14.6" 256gb Android 11 Tablet W/ Qualcomm Sm8450 8-core Processor - Graphite | 1299.99 | 1499.99 | 200.00 |
| Samsung Hw-q750b/zc 5.1.2 Channel Wireless Dolby Atmos Sound Bar W/ Wireless Subwoofer & Speakers | 599.95 | 1099.95 | 500.00 |
| Samsung 55" 4k Uhd Hdr Led Tizen Smart Tv (un55cu7000fxzc) - 2023 - Titan Grey | 699.99 | 749.99 | 50.00 |
| Samsung 65" 4k Uhd Hdr Qled Smart Tv (qn65q60cafxzc) - 2023 - Titan Grey | 1199.99 | 1299.99 | 100.00 |
| Samsung T7 Shield 1tb Usb 3.2 External Solid State Drive (mu-pe1t0s/am) - Black | 119.99 | 149.99 | 30.00 |
Outlet Center
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2023.06.02 23:18 Ontical_ Brightness controls not working
Title says it all. Here's my inix -Fxxxrz
System:
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Distro: Linux Mint 21.1 Vera base: Ubuntu 22.04 jammy
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inxi: 3.3.13
submitted by Ontical_ to linuxmint [link] [comments]
System:
Kernel: 5.19.0-43-generic x86_64 bits: 64 compiler: N/A
Desktop: Cinnamon 5.6.8 tk: GTK 3.24.33 wm: muffin vt: 7 dm: LightDM 1.30.0
Distro: Linux Mint 21.1 Vera base: Ubuntu 22.04 jammy
Machine:
Type: Laptop System: PC Specialist product: OptimusIX 17 v: N/A
serial:
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class-ID: 0300
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chip-ID: 5986:2110 class-ID: 0e02
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Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/apandada1-brightness-controller-jammy.list
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2023.06.02 17:28 trollthumper [Comics] I'm With Stupid: Marvel's Civil War
So, we already discussed what DC was doing to match the tenor of the early years of the War on Terror: A grim, smarter-than-it-thinks miniseries full of gratuitous rape that was meant to take the shine off the Silver Age by showing the darker side of its greatest heroes. Marvel, on the other hand, was trying to find a way to capture the zeitgeist of a post-9/11 era of existential threats, constant government surveillance, and the idea that if you weren’t with America, you were against it. A Captain America storyline saw Cap wrestle with the very concept of Guantanamo Bay; like any story arc that involves Cap doubting whether America lives up to its ideals, this made certain conservatives pissy, to the point that bad movie cataloguer Michael Medved wrote an entire article asking if Cap was a traitor. Avengers Disassembled briefly saw the Avengers face down their demons, as the Scarlet Witch goes crazy (again) and starts killing team members, her reality manipulations causing fault lines to form among Marvel’s greatest superteam. But there hadn’t yet been a storyline that would tie the entire Marvel Universe together with the burning question, “Which side are you on?”
Yeah, it’s got nothing to do with the Sokovia Accords. We’d be a lot better off if it did.
Part 1: Mark Millar’s March to the C-Word
Content Warning: Sexual assault. None of this is germane to the topic of the drama, so feel free to skip ahead to Part 1.5 if you don’t want to deal with this. Tl;dr: Mark Millar, the writer of the event, has a near pathological need to be a 3edgy5u contrarian.
Every comics crossover is ultimately a chance for one creative in the stable to shine or falter. The editors pick a writer who has turned out dependable work and give them a chance to try to alter the status quo but good. And for Civil War, Marvel’s EiC Joe Quesada decided the best person to lead the charge was Ultimates writer Mark Millar.
But who is Millar? Well, we could say “edgelord” and leave it at that, but we’re trying to dig deeper. Millar came up in comics alongside fellow Scot Grant Morrison, long before Morrison said the only time they want to bump into Millar on the streets of Glasgow is while going at 100 miles per hour. This antipathy is alleged to have stemmed from Millar copping several ideas from Morrison that went into Superman: Red Son. But after getting a start on Superman Adventures and as a cowriter on parts of Morrison’s JLA run, Millar soon branched out to WildStorm, where he took over The Authority from departing creatowritesex pest Warren Ellis.
The reason I bring up Red Son (for those non-geeks, an alternative universe comic premised on “What if Superman’s rocket had landed in Soviet Russia?”) is to frame a constant refrain about Mark Millar. He has good high-concept ideas… which often get trammeled up in an almost Pavlovian urge to shock, disturb, and/or titillate the reader. For instance, in The Authority, Ellis had introduced Apollo and Midnighter, two close companions who just happened to share the rough power sets and demeanors of Superman and Batman, with a few tweaks. Then he revealed they were boyfriends, which was a pretty bold move for a late Nineties comic book full of widescreen action and lovingly-rendered eviscerations.
In Millar’s first arc on the title, centered on a villainous Jack Kirby clone sending out a team of baddies who totally aren’t the Avengers, Apollo is subdued and is strongly implied to have been raped by someone who’s not Captain America. Apollo gets revenge by destroying EvilCap’s spinal column with his laser vision, then leaving him to the tender mercies of Midnighter, who is strongly implied to have sodomized him with a jackhammer.
In case you can’t tell, Millar loved him some rape. And it kept showing up in his creator-owned titles as well, all of which were basically written as Hollywood pitch docs. Wanted asks the question, “What if the supervillains won and secretly ruled the world from behind the scenes?” Well, an Eminem clone would take the opportunity to step into his dead villainous dad’s shoes and commit a lot of rape (yeah, there’s a reason the movie version replaced this with basically the Euthanatos from Mage: the Ascension getting orders from a magic loom). Chosen asks the question, “What if Jesus were born today?” Well, in a blatantly obvious twist, it turns out he’s actually the Antichrist, and part of his journey into realizing his evil nature involves being raped by all the demons of Hell.
It’s not that Millar can’t write innocent or restrained; he got started on the Superman: the Animated Series comic spin-off, and some of his titles such as Huck and Starlight have been praised for being relatively wholesome (keep in mind Huck is basically “What if Superman was Forrest Gump?” when I say “relatively”). And, as mentioned above, his works are made for high-concept log lines. You might recognize some of his various pitch docs: Kick-Ass, The Secret Service (source for the Kingsman movies), and, as mentioned above, Wanted. It’s just there’s this unctuous contrarian streak to a lot of his titles, a tendency to focus on venality, grotesquerie, and sodomy, with an air of pop culture edge. This also leaked into his image outside of his writing, with comments like “Games are for pedos” and ventures like the creator-owned comics periodical CLiNT (yes, the kerning is intentional). This streak continues to this day, as The Magic Order, a title that emerged from his deal with Netflix, features a magical escapologist who, she feels it very important to tell the reader in a direct monologue, escaped her own abortion. Bottom line, Millar has a sense of vision, but it’s betrayed at times by this reflexive desire to prove he’s smarter than the reader, to rub your face in the contradictions and make you a party to the artifice of it all. Usually with a dash of rape.
But at Marvel, Millar was riding the lightning of the Ultimate Universe. His Ultimates title was drawing on the wide-screen action image of JLA and The Authority, creating the cinematic language that would come to define the MCU. The choice to fantasy cast Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury is why we have Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury. He also painted the Hulk as a cannibalistic monster, cemented Hank Pym’s reputation as a wifebeater, and gave us Captain America yelling “Surrender? Do you think this A on my head stands for France?”, so let’s just keep that in perspective.
But the Ultimate Universe was its own pocket universe. Millar was being tapped to write a story for Earth-616, the main Marvel Universe. And he had a vision:
Part 1.5: What Has Come Before
Ultimately, the crux of Civil War is something that has been explored lightly in the past at Marvel: The idea that, instead of being unlicensed vigilantes who decide the best solution of societal issues is to beat up assholes in spandex, superheroes become licensed government officers that register their true identities with Uncle Sam and solve societal issues by beating up assholes in spandex. In Marvel’s history, it hasn’t gone well. The reality of government liaisons to superhero bodies has ranged from Valerie Cooper, who worked with government mutant team X-Factor but still found herself backing the genocidal Sentinel program as a big “Yeah, but what if…?”, to Henry Peter Gyrich, an inflamed obstructionist asshole who had to be held back from flipping a switch that would depower every superhuman individual on Earth. The idea of heroes themselves bristling against a government they disagreed with had a long history, as there was a period where Steve Rogers quit being Captain America, and the government had to find a replacement while he rode around on a motorcycle in a surprisingly slutty costume. But the idea of registering with the government has usually ended up on the “No” side due to one big cohort at Marvel: Mutants.
Ever since the days of Chris Claremont, a general conceit of the Marvel Universe is that mutants are a stand-in for your minority group of choice. Hated and feared, born different and feeling alienated, painted as an existential menace and threat to the status quo. Of course, it’s long been pointed out that the metaphor breaks down on the general grounds that, say, gays can’t shoot laser beams out of their eyes. I have my thoughts on that which I might share in the comments if someone pokes me hard enough, but it’s been general editorial consensus that people with powers, especially those of persecuted minorities, being compelled to share their true names, addresses, and natures with the federal government is a “That train’s never late!” move. Not only that, it’s a slippery slope. The classic X-Men story “Days of Future Past” is entirely premised on the idea that a government program of genocidal robots built to wipe out mutants will eventually run out of mutants… and then start turning on humans who could give birth to mutants, and then it’s Skynet all over again.
Another running meme in the Marvel Universe is that the X-Men usually exist in a Schrodinger’s cat situation with the rest of the superhero universe, both coexisting and in their own worlds. Yes, mutants have served on the Avengers, and yes, Thor intervened when the Morlocks were nearly wiped out in the sewers under New York. But Captain America, for all his proud statements of living up to America’s ideals, has a habit of missing the plot whenever the US government (or Canada, seat of all the Marvel Universe’s governmental evils - no, really) decides it’s Genocide O’Clock. And when the mutant nation of Genosha was completely wiped out by said murder robots, the Avengers seemed to be all “New phone who dis?” But when the two do intersect, there’s usually support for the mutants. One story in Fantastic Four had Reed Richards - Mr. Fantastic, stretchy man, greatest genius in the Marvel Universe, guy who’s probably being cucked by a fish-man - get tapped by the US government to make a device that detects mutants and other people with powers. He does… and then uses it to show why the government probably doesn’t want it, as it pings several members of Congress as having just enough genetic variation to qualify as “mutants,” even if they don’t have powers.
All in all, while the argument has some merit, for years, Marvel has come down on the position that asking people with powers to reveal their identities to the federal government is something that could go really bad if somebody with a hate-on for superheroes ends up in power. Something that would never happen oh yeah it totally did. But before it all went to Hell, Civil War at least gave an opportunity to reexamine the concept and see if it had merit.
It might have. But not with this argument.
Part 1.75: What Else Has Happened Before?
And now, some things that will ultimately give context for what happens next:
The big kick-off for Civil War involves the New Warriors, a team of teen heroes who have, as of a recently canceled series, been trying to make it big as reality TV stars. They get in a fight with a bunch of villains in the small town of Stamford, CT, when exploding villain Nitro goes positively nuclear, resulting in a blast much bigger than any he’s generated. [1] Not only does this mostly wipe out the New Warriors (save for kinetic energy-absorbing goofball Speedball), but it also happens to hit a nearby school. In the end, 612 people are dead, many of them children, and the nation wants answers.
With public opinion turning against the New Warriors, former member Hindsight starts leaking secret identities to get the heat off his back. This only makes things worse. Secret identities have only recently stopped being a thing for some heroes: Captain America only came out a few years ago, it was only recently that Tony Stark stopped pretending Iron Man was his bodyguard, and Daredevil was almost outed in the pages of his book. But something needs to be done, so Tony helps work with Congress to pass the Super Human Registration Act, which requires that all people with powers or working as vigilantes register their identities with the government to receive training and oversight. If you don’t? Believe it or not, jail, right away.
Fault lines quickly develop in the superhero community. While Tony is leading the “pro” side, alongside Reed Richards (yeah, we’ll get to that), Captain America, usually painted as the embodiment of the dream of America despite its compromised history and many sins, is against it. He’s lived through Richard Nixon being a secret fascist and shooting himself in the head after being fingered as mastermind of a vast criminal conspiracy (yes, that happened ); he knows how badly this could go in the wrong hands. Needless to say, Maria Hill and SHIELD hear his concerns, understand his problems with it, and are willing to iron out the kinks through reasoned debate.
Just kidding. Before the law has even been signed, Maria sics SHIELD’s elite Cape-Killers squad on Cap with the intent of getting him behind bars. Cap swiftly goes underground and starts his own group of anti-registration superheroes.
The fight continues for the next few issues. Spider-Man, caught in the middle, reveals himself to be Peter Parker at a press conference, declaring his support for the SHRA. Doctor Strange is so powerful that he tells the government to fuck off, and somehow, Maria Hill doesn’t decide to go charging up his asshole. Ben Grimm, the ever-loving blue-eyed Thing, is so sick of all the conflict he goes to France. But things are still at a stalemate, and while SHIELD may be acting like a bunch of merry assholes, it seems like there’s a debate to be had that could still be resolved reasonably… except for one key factor.
Part 3: I Fought the Law, and the Law… Huh?
No one ever really defined what the Super Human Registration Act, the legislation that tore the Marvel Universe’s superhero community asunder, did. Every book that had an issue that touched on the event seemed to have a different understanding of its principles, as well as just how fascist it might be in the long run. In the pages of She-Hulk, attorney Jennifer Walters/She-Hulk argues the law is a net good, as it gives heroes the backing and resources they need to not have to go it alone, while also having some measure of government oversight. In the pages of Civil War Frontline (oh, and we’ll get back to Civil War Frontline, don’t you worry), Wonder Man is told by the government that he needs to do a job for them, and if he refuses, well, one thousand years dungeon.
Which then leads into the other issue behind the SHRA. Namely, that everyone in favor was either starting to swing towards fascism or embracing bootlicking as a lifestyle, not a kink. In the pages of Amazing Spider-Man, Peter asks Reed Richards, who has always bucked authority and once stopped the US government from doing something just like this with mutants, why he’s pro-registration. Reed then reveals that an uncle who has never been mentioned before was called before HUAC; he refused to name names, his career was ruined, and he killed himself. From this, Reed - the man who stole a rocketship because the government said “no” to his planned space voyage - has learned that the government is always right, especially when they could step on your neck (this was received so badly that a later comic revealed he’d actually borrowed the concept of psychohistory from Asimov’s Foundation, he’d made it work somehow, and his calculations showed that this was the only way to avoid a greater disaster). This comic also revealed that people who were in violation of the SHRA were sent to a literal extradimensional Gitmo, a prison in the Negative Zone that later comics would reveal was overseen by… Captain Marvel. No, not that one. No, not that one. The Kree superhero Captain Mar-Vell, who had famously died of cancer decades before. How did he come back from the dead? Fuck if we know.
This “the law says what you want it to say” approach spread across various books and miniseries meant to cross over into the event. In the pages of a crossover mini between the Runaways and the Young Avengers, this meant SHIELD Cape-Killer squads were using lethal force against teenagers. The second-to-last issue of the mini ends with several members of both teams in extradimensional Gitmo, about to be dissected by a guy who’s horny for torture. The fact that all the captive heroes were the queer members of both teams? Total coincidence. Honestly.
So, it quickly becomes clear that the editorial control on this event is less than cohesive. There are different ideas all over as to what the SHRA does, and some of those ideas are tacking pretty fashy. But if the law is being painted as that bad, then clearly, there must be some greater statement of freedom vs. security. Maybe Millar’s really painting a subversive picture of what happens when you trade liberty for control, right?
Part 4: Why Do You Hate the Good Thing?
After the publication of Civil War #3, Millar would say in an interview he was actually pro-registration. I can’t find that interview, but here’s a similar sentiment shared years later:
So here’s what happens in the pages of Civil War #3 to sell the audience on the SHRA:
Part 5: Yadda, Yadda, Yadda
The next few issues of Civil War might best be described as “They fight, and fight, and fight and fight and fight.” The anti-registration side picks up The Punisher, Marvel’s most avowed murderer of criminals - and Cap is somewhat shocked but not entirely surprised when two minor villains join the anti-registration side and Frank promptly kills them on sight. Spider-Man starts realizing things are weird on the pro-reg side and defects, after he has set his entire life on fire. The X-Men have continued to stay out of this whole mess. In the lead-up, Emma Frost called Tony out on the Avengers’ complete absence when Genosha got nuked. Later, Carol Danvers (then Ms. Marvel, now Captain Marvel) will show up at the Xavier School to pitch the SHRA just after a massive terrorist attack kills dozens of students. Emma responds by telepathically dogwalking her.
By the final issue of the miniseries, the SHRA has expanded out into the Fifty States Initiative, wherein each state gets its own superteam. There’s a big final battle, Hercules kills Robo-Thor, and Cap nearly takes out Tony, only to be stopped by… the heroes of 9/11. No shit, Captain America is subdued by cops, firefighters, and paramedics. And when that happens, Cap finally takes a look around, realizes their big ideological street brawl has resulted in collateral damage, and surrenders. The SHRA wins, though Tony feels a little bad about it. Cap is ready to stand trial and to argue that, while he may have done something wrong, he did it for the right reasons.
Once again: Yeah. About that.
Part 6: MySpace Tom Didn’t Die For This
Running alongside Civil War is Civil War Frontline, a street-level book written by Paul Jenkins that managed to capture this world-breaking conflict through the eyes of people on the street. Though it has side stories, its main leads are Ben Urich, Peter Parker’s journalist buddy at The Daily Bugle, and the aforementioned Sally Floyd. Throughout the series, they start to realize there’s a story underneath the SHRA, as if somebody is playing the angles.
Before we talk about that conclusion, let’s talk about a side story. Remember how we said part of the comics community saw Identity Crisis as a driven effort to make things less “wacky” and intentionally darken the DCU? Well, that same tonal approach led to one of the more laughable moments of a pretty laughable arc. See, despite the fact that, as established, it was Nitro who blew up Stamford, it’s Speedball, the only survivor of the New Warriors, that views himself as responsible and is held up as a scapegoat by the general public. In addition, the blast screwed up his powers. Now, he doesn’t absorb and reflect kinetic energy; rather, he generates energy based on pain. So, he builds himself a new, extreme outfit lined with 612 spikes, one for each person who died in Stamford. This will drive his crusade to make things right - not as Speedball… but as Penance.
It was so laughably DeviantArt “OC do not steal” that no one could take it seriously. Look what you did, you took a perfectly good goofball and gave him an emo streak. The turn is swiftly mocked in other Marvel books, and it’s eventually revealed that Speedball still had his original powerset and always intended to put Nitro in the Goofy Suit of Dark Inner Torment as punishment for his crimes. But this turn gives you a sense of the tone and heft Jenkins was bringing to the proceedings.
Anyway, back to the main plot. Ben and Sally follow the thread as Namor, as he is wont to do, declares war on the surface world after an Atlantean diplomat is shot. But it turns out the assassination was arranged by Norman Osborn, who decided it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission and manipulated Atlantis into war so that Tony could have another piece of evidence for getting superhumans on a leash. And the two journalists deduce that, on some level, Tony had to know this would be an inevitable outcome of giving state backing to an unhinged mogul who dresses like a Power Rangers villain. Weighing what to do with this information, Ben and Sally, who are kind of sick of the collateral damage by this point, sit on it while they go in for an interview with Captain America, now in custody and willing to tell his side of the story.
And then. And then. The monologue. If you want a lesson in how to assassinate a character in 30 seconds or less, this monologue is a great example. Sally Floyd calls Captain America out as completely divorced from American values. Now, again, Captain America has long served as the beating liberal heart of the Marvel Universe. He has always represented an America that reckons with its legacy of things like internment camps, Manifest Destiny, and Jim Crow, in order to transcend these scars and embody the promise offered by Emma Lazarus’s New Colossus, carved on the side of the Statue of Liberty. Why is he out of touch with Americans at the dawn of the 21st century?
Well, he’s never heard of MySpace. [2] He doesn’t watch NASCAR. He doesn’t follow American Idol. There are pop culture moments that have aged like milk; this one had all the permanence of an ice cream cone in a blast furnace. But despite the inanity of Floyd’s argument - and trust me, there are fan edits dedicated to Cap pointing out how full of shit this argument is - it’s clear it represents something else. This is a post-9/11 world. Fuck civil liberties, we have a no-fly list and Gitmo, and if the American people really cared, they’d do something other than watch Simon Cowell read aspiring singers to filth. What does Captain America stand for in this moment of crisis?
Nothing. Because he just looks away from Sally Floyd. No doubt thinking, “Oh my God this bitch.” But to underline the argument in question, Sally storms out of the interview, Ben in tow. She still has that information on Norman Osborn’s false flag operation… and while she and Ben confront Tony on everything that went down, they decide the story should never see the light of day. Because they wouldn’t dare jeopardize the SHRA, because security is more important than the truth.
Oh. And then Cap gets shot. And dies. He totally dies (except he doesn’t but we’ll get to that). If ever there was an unintentional thesis statement for this event, running in the late stages of the Bush era, it would be this: “It’s better to trust that the powers that be who oversee the new America will keep you safe, even when they stage false flag operations, stick you in a gulag, and put their trust in monsters. All that civil liberty stuff was the old America. And the old America was hopeless. It wasn’t even on MySpace.”
Epilogue: Consequences Keep Consequencing
As you can tell from that last paragraph, a lot of the fan reception to Civil War likely had a lot to do with the period. This was the Bush era, a time where you were for America or against it. We were in the shadow of the Patriot Act, Gitmo, and widespread wiretaps, paranoid about what civil liberty we’d be asked to put on the pyre next in the name of Freedom. A story all about the warm, clenching fist of government control that tells you to ignore the collateral damage… well, it wasn’t great for the cultural moment.
The ideas of Civil War aren’t necessarily bad ones. I frame Cap as the liberal dream of what America could be, but there are good arguments to be made that America has never been that and Cap is just copium for liberals. His most recent title, Sentinel of Liberty, opens with Steve saying he is out of touch with the average American - not because he doesn’t watch NASCAR, but because he’s a WWII veteran who looks maybe 30 years old at most and whose best friends are all superheroes or spies. A narrative that has him on the wrong side of the issue and detonates his beliefs isn’t impossible, but it probably shouldn’t be one where people who got powers due to a fluke of birth or a radiation accident are told by the government, “Join with us or we’ll send supervillains after you.” Hell, as the Civil War movie proves, there is a way to tell a story about a superhero community torn in half by the idea of mandatory registration as government-controlled actors, and just why people would think that could be a bad idea (“Hey, remember when a good chunk of our intelligence apparatus turned out to be Nazi stay behinds?”).
But in the context of the era, and coupled with the execution, Civil War felt like a hard sell, and you could feel the thumb pressing on the scale every second while reading it. The moral center of the Marvel Universe is wrong, the winning side employs sadistic murderers and has an extradimensional Gitmo, and the writer is telling you that any sane individual would be on Team Green Goblin Employer.
So how did that all work out? Well…
[1] This is eventually explored in the pages of Wolverine, of all books, as Wolverine decides maybe somebody should track down the person who actually killed hundreds of children. It’s revealed that Nitro was given power-boosting drugs by the CEO of Damage Control, Marvel’s designated “clean up after the super-battle” corporation, as a way of generating business. In a sign of how little this matters, Wolverine tells Maria Hill to her face that the person responsible for a mass casualty event is the pawn of a powerful conspiracy, and she basically says, “Not my problem.” Cobie Smulders must thank the gods that her Maria Hill is written as somebody with basic human decency.
[2] Hilariously, when Sally Floyd was brought back during Nick Spencer’s Captain America run because no one had piled enough dung on her corpse, this line was retconned to her asking him about Twitter. Given everything Elon’s been doing lately, we’ll see if that ages just as poorly.
submitted by trollthumper to HobbyDrama [link] [comments]
Yeah, it’s got nothing to do with the Sokovia Accords. We’d be a lot better off if it did.
Part 1: Mark Millar’s March to the C-Word
Content Warning: Sexual assault. None of this is germane to the topic of the drama, so feel free to skip ahead to Part 1.5 if you don’t want to deal with this. Tl;dr: Mark Millar, the writer of the event, has a near pathological need to be a 3edgy5u contrarian.
Every comics crossover is ultimately a chance for one creative in the stable to shine or falter. The editors pick a writer who has turned out dependable work and give them a chance to try to alter the status quo but good. And for Civil War, Marvel’s EiC Joe Quesada decided the best person to lead the charge was Ultimates writer Mark Millar.
But who is Millar? Well, we could say “edgelord” and leave it at that, but we’re trying to dig deeper. Millar came up in comics alongside fellow Scot Grant Morrison, long before Morrison said the only time they want to bump into Millar on the streets of Glasgow is while going at 100 miles per hour. This antipathy is alleged to have stemmed from Millar copping several ideas from Morrison that went into Superman: Red Son. But after getting a start on Superman Adventures and as a cowriter on parts of Morrison’s JLA run, Millar soon branched out to WildStorm, where he took over The Authority from departing creatowritesex pest Warren Ellis.
The reason I bring up Red Son (for those non-geeks, an alternative universe comic premised on “What if Superman’s rocket had landed in Soviet Russia?”) is to frame a constant refrain about Mark Millar. He has good high-concept ideas… which often get trammeled up in an almost Pavlovian urge to shock, disturb, and/or titillate the reader. For instance, in The Authority, Ellis had introduced Apollo and Midnighter, two close companions who just happened to share the rough power sets and demeanors of Superman and Batman, with a few tweaks. Then he revealed they were boyfriends, which was a pretty bold move for a late Nineties comic book full of widescreen action and lovingly-rendered eviscerations.
In Millar’s first arc on the title, centered on a villainous Jack Kirby clone sending out a team of baddies who totally aren’t the Avengers, Apollo is subdued and is strongly implied to have been raped by someone who’s not Captain America. Apollo gets revenge by destroying EvilCap’s spinal column with his laser vision, then leaving him to the tender mercies of Midnighter, who is strongly implied to have sodomized him with a jackhammer.
In case you can’t tell, Millar loved him some rape. And it kept showing up in his creator-owned titles as well, all of which were basically written as Hollywood pitch docs. Wanted asks the question, “What if the supervillains won and secretly ruled the world from behind the scenes?” Well, an Eminem clone would take the opportunity to step into his dead villainous dad’s shoes and commit a lot of rape (yeah, there’s a reason the movie version replaced this with basically the Euthanatos from Mage: the Ascension getting orders from a magic loom). Chosen asks the question, “What if Jesus were born today?” Well, in a blatantly obvious twist, it turns out he’s actually the Antichrist, and part of his journey into realizing his evil nature involves being raped by all the demons of Hell.
It’s not that Millar can’t write innocent or restrained; he got started on the Superman: the Animated Series comic spin-off, and some of his titles such as Huck and Starlight have been praised for being relatively wholesome (keep in mind Huck is basically “What if Superman was Forrest Gump?” when I say “relatively”). And, as mentioned above, his works are made for high-concept log lines. You might recognize some of his various pitch docs: Kick-Ass, The Secret Service (source for the Kingsman movies), and, as mentioned above, Wanted. It’s just there’s this unctuous contrarian streak to a lot of his titles, a tendency to focus on venality, grotesquerie, and sodomy, with an air of pop culture edge. This also leaked into his image outside of his writing, with comments like “Games are for pedos” and ventures like the creator-owned comics periodical CLiNT (yes, the kerning is intentional). This streak continues to this day, as The Magic Order, a title that emerged from his deal with Netflix, features a magical escapologist who, she feels it very important to tell the reader in a direct monologue, escaped her own abortion. Bottom line, Millar has a sense of vision, but it’s betrayed at times by this reflexive desire to prove he’s smarter than the reader, to rub your face in the contradictions and make you a party to the artifice of it all. Usually with a dash of rape.
But at Marvel, Millar was riding the lightning of the Ultimate Universe. His Ultimates title was drawing on the wide-screen action image of JLA and The Authority, creating the cinematic language that would come to define the MCU. The choice to fantasy cast Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury is why we have Samuel L. Jackson as Nick Fury. He also painted the Hulk as a cannibalistic monster, cemented Hank Pym’s reputation as a wifebeater, and gave us Captain America yelling “Surrender? Do you think this A on my head stands for France?”, so let’s just keep that in perspective.
But the Ultimate Universe was its own pocket universe. Millar was being tapped to write a story for Earth-616, the main Marvel Universe. And he had a vision:
“I opted instead for making the superhero dilemma something a little different. People thought they were dangerous, but they did not want a ban. What they wanted was superheroes paid by the federal government like cops and open to the same kind of scrutiny. It was the perfect solution and nobody, as far as I'm aware, has done this before.”Yeah. About that.
Part 1.5: What Has Come Before
Ultimately, the crux of Civil War is something that has been explored lightly in the past at Marvel: The idea that, instead of being unlicensed vigilantes who decide the best solution of societal issues is to beat up assholes in spandex, superheroes become licensed government officers that register their true identities with Uncle Sam and solve societal issues by beating up assholes in spandex. In Marvel’s history, it hasn’t gone well. The reality of government liaisons to superhero bodies has ranged from Valerie Cooper, who worked with government mutant team X-Factor but still found herself backing the genocidal Sentinel program as a big “Yeah, but what if…?”, to Henry Peter Gyrich, an inflamed obstructionist asshole who had to be held back from flipping a switch that would depower every superhuman individual on Earth. The idea of heroes themselves bristling against a government they disagreed with had a long history, as there was a period where Steve Rogers quit being Captain America, and the government had to find a replacement while he rode around on a motorcycle in a surprisingly slutty costume. But the idea of registering with the government has usually ended up on the “No” side due to one big cohort at Marvel: Mutants.
Ever since the days of Chris Claremont, a general conceit of the Marvel Universe is that mutants are a stand-in for your minority group of choice. Hated and feared, born different and feeling alienated, painted as an existential menace and threat to the status quo. Of course, it’s long been pointed out that the metaphor breaks down on the general grounds that, say, gays can’t shoot laser beams out of their eyes. I have my thoughts on that which I might share in the comments if someone pokes me hard enough, but it’s been general editorial consensus that people with powers, especially those of persecuted minorities, being compelled to share their true names, addresses, and natures with the federal government is a “That train’s never late!” move. Not only that, it’s a slippery slope. The classic X-Men story “Days of Future Past” is entirely premised on the idea that a government program of genocidal robots built to wipe out mutants will eventually run out of mutants… and then start turning on humans who could give birth to mutants, and then it’s Skynet all over again.
Another running meme in the Marvel Universe is that the X-Men usually exist in a Schrodinger’s cat situation with the rest of the superhero universe, both coexisting and in their own worlds. Yes, mutants have served on the Avengers, and yes, Thor intervened when the Morlocks were nearly wiped out in the sewers under New York. But Captain America, for all his proud statements of living up to America’s ideals, has a habit of missing the plot whenever the US government (or Canada, seat of all the Marvel Universe’s governmental evils - no, really) decides it’s Genocide O’Clock. And when the mutant nation of Genosha was completely wiped out by said murder robots, the Avengers seemed to be all “New phone who dis?” But when the two do intersect, there’s usually support for the mutants. One story in Fantastic Four had Reed Richards - Mr. Fantastic, stretchy man, greatest genius in the Marvel Universe, guy who’s probably being cucked by a fish-man - get tapped by the US government to make a device that detects mutants and other people with powers. He does… and then uses it to show why the government probably doesn’t want it, as it pings several members of Congress as having just enough genetic variation to qualify as “mutants,” even if they don’t have powers.
All in all, while the argument has some merit, for years, Marvel has come down on the position that asking people with powers to reveal their identities to the federal government is something that could go really bad if somebody with a hate-on for superheroes ends up in power. Something that would never happen oh yeah it totally did. But before it all went to Hell, Civil War at least gave an opportunity to reexamine the concept and see if it had merit.
It might have. But not with this argument.
Part 1.75: What Else Has Happened Before?
And now, some things that will ultimately give context for what happens next:
- In the pages of Thor, all of Asgard eventually runs headlong into Ragnarok. Thor and the rest of the Asgardians give their lives to save the earth, taking Thor off the board… for now.
- As mentioned above, the Avengers experience a critical fault due to Wanda going batshit (a common lament). With Avengers Mansion destroyed and the team at odds, it is eventually reunited under Tony Stark, who put the Avengers up in a tower he built.
- Nick Fury has vanished due to doing some skullduggery in the pages of the miniseries Secret War (no, not Secret Wars, this is different). Acting head of SHIELD, the all-purpose super spy squad of Marvel, is Maria Hill, who can’t seem to draw her pistol without shooting herself in the foot.
- Due to Wanda continuing to go batshit, the House of M crossover event ends with her casting a spell: “No more mutants.” While the damage is staunched, Earth-616’s population of mutants (which was recently established to be somewhere around 16 million) is reduced to 200, the rest being depowered or dying as a result of being depowered. This was because, as Editor-in-Chief Joe Quesada said, the idea of mutants being everywhere made them “boring.” The fact that mutants were starting to be written less as a minority stand-in and more as an actual minority group with fashion, culture, music, and neighborhoods might have had something to do with that. From the wake of this event emerges Sally Floyd, a journalist whose own mutant daughter died before the mass depowering due to having a power that was more curse than blessing. The series Generation M follows her as the viewpoint character as she investigates the stories of former mutants.
The big kick-off for Civil War involves the New Warriors, a team of teen heroes who have, as of a recently canceled series, been trying to make it big as reality TV stars. They get in a fight with a bunch of villains in the small town of Stamford, CT, when exploding villain Nitro goes positively nuclear, resulting in a blast much bigger than any he’s generated. [1] Not only does this mostly wipe out the New Warriors (save for kinetic energy-absorbing goofball Speedball), but it also happens to hit a nearby school. In the end, 612 people are dead, many of them children, and the nation wants answers.
With public opinion turning against the New Warriors, former member Hindsight starts leaking secret identities to get the heat off his back. This only makes things worse. Secret identities have only recently stopped being a thing for some heroes: Captain America only came out a few years ago, it was only recently that Tony Stark stopped pretending Iron Man was his bodyguard, and Daredevil was almost outed in the pages of his book. But something needs to be done, so Tony helps work with Congress to pass the Super Human Registration Act, which requires that all people with powers or working as vigilantes register their identities with the government to receive training and oversight. If you don’t? Believe it or not, jail, right away.
Fault lines quickly develop in the superhero community. While Tony is leading the “pro” side, alongside Reed Richards (yeah, we’ll get to that), Captain America, usually painted as the embodiment of the dream of America despite its compromised history and many sins, is against it. He’s lived through Richard Nixon being a secret fascist and shooting himself in the head after being fingered as mastermind of a vast criminal conspiracy (yes, that happened ); he knows how badly this could go in the wrong hands. Needless to say, Maria Hill and SHIELD hear his concerns, understand his problems with it, and are willing to iron out the kinks through reasoned debate.
Just kidding. Before the law has even been signed, Maria sics SHIELD’s elite Cape-Killers squad on Cap with the intent of getting him behind bars. Cap swiftly goes underground and starts his own group of anti-registration superheroes.
The fight continues for the next few issues. Spider-Man, caught in the middle, reveals himself to be Peter Parker at a press conference, declaring his support for the SHRA. Doctor Strange is so powerful that he tells the government to fuck off, and somehow, Maria Hill doesn’t decide to go charging up his asshole. Ben Grimm, the ever-loving blue-eyed Thing, is so sick of all the conflict he goes to France. But things are still at a stalemate, and while SHIELD may be acting like a bunch of merry assholes, it seems like there’s a debate to be had that could still be resolved reasonably… except for one key factor.
Part 3: I Fought the Law, and the Law… Huh?
No one ever really defined what the Super Human Registration Act, the legislation that tore the Marvel Universe’s superhero community asunder, did. Every book that had an issue that touched on the event seemed to have a different understanding of its principles, as well as just how fascist it might be in the long run. In the pages of She-Hulk, attorney Jennifer Walters/She-Hulk argues the law is a net good, as it gives heroes the backing and resources they need to not have to go it alone, while also having some measure of government oversight. In the pages of Civil War Frontline (oh, and we’ll get back to Civil War Frontline, don’t you worry), Wonder Man is told by the government that he needs to do a job for them, and if he refuses, well, one thousand years dungeon.
Which then leads into the other issue behind the SHRA. Namely, that everyone in favor was either starting to swing towards fascism or embracing bootlicking as a lifestyle, not a kink. In the pages of Amazing Spider-Man, Peter asks Reed Richards, who has always bucked authority and once stopped the US government from doing something just like this with mutants, why he’s pro-registration. Reed then reveals that an uncle who has never been mentioned before was called before HUAC; he refused to name names, his career was ruined, and he killed himself. From this, Reed - the man who stole a rocketship because the government said “no” to his planned space voyage - has learned that the government is always right, especially when they could step on your neck (this was received so badly that a later comic revealed he’d actually borrowed the concept of psychohistory from Asimov’s Foundation, he’d made it work somehow, and his calculations showed that this was the only way to avoid a greater disaster). This comic also revealed that people who were in violation of the SHRA were sent to a literal extradimensional Gitmo, a prison in the Negative Zone that later comics would reveal was overseen by… Captain Marvel. No, not that one. No, not that one. The Kree superhero Captain Mar-Vell, who had famously died of cancer decades before. How did he come back from the dead? Fuck if we know.
This “the law says what you want it to say” approach spread across various books and miniseries meant to cross over into the event. In the pages of a crossover mini between the Runaways and the Young Avengers, this meant SHIELD Cape-Killer squads were using lethal force against teenagers. The second-to-last issue of the mini ends with several members of both teams in extradimensional Gitmo, about to be dissected by a guy who’s horny for torture. The fact that all the captive heroes were the queer members of both teams? Total coincidence. Honestly.
So, it quickly becomes clear that the editorial control on this event is less than cohesive. There are different ideas all over as to what the SHRA does, and some of those ideas are tacking pretty fashy. But if the law is being painted as that bad, then clearly, there must be some greater statement of freedom vs. security. Maybe Millar’s really painting a subversive picture of what happens when you trade liberty for control, right?
Part 4: Why Do You Hate the Good Thing?
After the publication of Civil War #3, Millar would say in an interview he was actually pro-registration. I can’t find that interview, but here’s a similar sentiment shared years later:
“Weirdly, some of the other writers would often make Tony the bad guy, which I thought was a strange choice because I was actually on Tony’s side... In the real world, if somebody had superpowers, I’d like them to be registered in the same way that somebody who has a gun has to carry a license. But a gun can kill several people while a superhero can kill several thousands of people, so on a pragmatic level I’m 100% on Tony’s side. Maybe on a romantic level, Cap’s position makes sense but I don’t think anybody in the real world would really want that."”And again, here’s the thing: He’s not entirely wrong. As said above, the idea of civil liberties for all and “free to me you and me” falls down a little when one of your neighbors can blow up a city block by thinking real hard. But Millar is fighting against years of ideological inertia in the Marvel Universe, as well as painting Captain America, the guy who has always embodied the ideal of a righteous, just America, as in the wrong. He needs to make one hell of an argument.
So here’s what happens in the pages of Civil War #3 to sell the audience on the SHRA:
- Thor comes back from the dead… and he’s on Tony’s side! Well, not really. Tony and Reed both realized that having one of the most beloved gods of the Marvel Universe come out on their side would be a big win… if only he wasn’t dead. So, they cloned him. Or rather, they T-800’d him, putting cloned divine flesh on a robot skeleton. But I’m sure he’s perfectly under control, and - oh, he just killed Goliath. In the next issue, one of Marvel’s black male heroes, frozen at the size of a small townhouse in death, will be buried in a gigantic ditch, wrapped in a tarp and chains. You’d think Hank Pym could grow a large enough coffin, at least.
- With Cap and the anti-registration side escaping once again, Tony decides he needs a dedicated team that can track down fugitive superhumans. To do so, he creates a new version of the Thunderbolts, a concept long associated with “villains acting like heroes.” And who does he put on this team? Venom, the Spider-Man villain who eats people’s brains; Bullseye, the Daredevil villain who will kill anyone for the lulz; and Norman Osborn, a.k.a. The Green Goblin, who famously murdered Spider-Man’s girlfriend Gwen Stacy.
Part 5: Yadda, Yadda, Yadda
The next few issues of Civil War might best be described as “They fight, and fight, and fight and fight and fight.” The anti-registration side picks up The Punisher, Marvel’s most avowed murderer of criminals - and Cap is somewhat shocked but not entirely surprised when two minor villains join the anti-registration side and Frank promptly kills them on sight. Spider-Man starts realizing things are weird on the pro-reg side and defects, after he has set his entire life on fire. The X-Men have continued to stay out of this whole mess. In the lead-up, Emma Frost called Tony out on the Avengers’ complete absence when Genosha got nuked. Later, Carol Danvers (then Ms. Marvel, now Captain Marvel) will show up at the Xavier School to pitch the SHRA just after a massive terrorist attack kills dozens of students. Emma responds by telepathically dogwalking her.
By the final issue of the miniseries, the SHRA has expanded out into the Fifty States Initiative, wherein each state gets its own superteam. There’s a big final battle, Hercules kills Robo-Thor, and Cap nearly takes out Tony, only to be stopped by… the heroes of 9/11. No shit, Captain America is subdued by cops, firefighters, and paramedics. And when that happens, Cap finally takes a look around, realizes their big ideological street brawl has resulted in collateral damage, and surrenders. The SHRA wins, though Tony feels a little bad about it. Cap is ready to stand trial and to argue that, while he may have done something wrong, he did it for the right reasons.
Once again: Yeah. About that.
Part 6: MySpace Tom Didn’t Die For This
Running alongside Civil War is Civil War Frontline, a street-level book written by Paul Jenkins that managed to capture this world-breaking conflict through the eyes of people on the street. Though it has side stories, its main leads are Ben Urich, Peter Parker’s journalist buddy at The Daily Bugle, and the aforementioned Sally Floyd. Throughout the series, they start to realize there’s a story underneath the SHRA, as if somebody is playing the angles.
Before we talk about that conclusion, let’s talk about a side story. Remember how we said part of the comics community saw Identity Crisis as a driven effort to make things less “wacky” and intentionally darken the DCU? Well, that same tonal approach led to one of the more laughable moments of a pretty laughable arc. See, despite the fact that, as established, it was Nitro who blew up Stamford, it’s Speedball, the only survivor of the New Warriors, that views himself as responsible and is held up as a scapegoat by the general public. In addition, the blast screwed up his powers. Now, he doesn’t absorb and reflect kinetic energy; rather, he generates energy based on pain. So, he builds himself a new, extreme outfit lined with 612 spikes, one for each person who died in Stamford. This will drive his crusade to make things right - not as Speedball… but as Penance.
It was so laughably DeviantArt “OC do not steal” that no one could take it seriously. Look what you did, you took a perfectly good goofball and gave him an emo streak. The turn is swiftly mocked in other Marvel books, and it’s eventually revealed that Speedball still had his original powerset and always intended to put Nitro in the Goofy Suit of Dark Inner Torment as punishment for his crimes. But this turn gives you a sense of the tone and heft Jenkins was bringing to the proceedings.
Anyway, back to the main plot. Ben and Sally follow the thread as Namor, as he is wont to do, declares war on the surface world after an Atlantean diplomat is shot. But it turns out the assassination was arranged by Norman Osborn, who decided it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission and manipulated Atlantis into war so that Tony could have another piece of evidence for getting superhumans on a leash. And the two journalists deduce that, on some level, Tony had to know this would be an inevitable outcome of giving state backing to an unhinged mogul who dresses like a Power Rangers villain. Weighing what to do with this information, Ben and Sally, who are kind of sick of the collateral damage by this point, sit on it while they go in for an interview with Captain America, now in custody and willing to tell his side of the story.
And then. And then. The monologue. If you want a lesson in how to assassinate a character in 30 seconds or less, this monologue is a great example. Sally Floyd calls Captain America out as completely divorced from American values. Now, again, Captain America has long served as the beating liberal heart of the Marvel Universe. He has always represented an America that reckons with its legacy of things like internment camps, Manifest Destiny, and Jim Crow, in order to transcend these scars and embody the promise offered by Emma Lazarus’s New Colossus, carved on the side of the Statue of Liberty. Why is he out of touch with Americans at the dawn of the 21st century?
Well, he’s never heard of MySpace. [2] He doesn’t watch NASCAR. He doesn’t follow American Idol. There are pop culture moments that have aged like milk; this one had all the permanence of an ice cream cone in a blast furnace. But despite the inanity of Floyd’s argument - and trust me, there are fan edits dedicated to Cap pointing out how full of shit this argument is - it’s clear it represents something else. This is a post-9/11 world. Fuck civil liberties, we have a no-fly list and Gitmo, and if the American people really cared, they’d do something other than watch Simon Cowell read aspiring singers to filth. What does Captain America stand for in this moment of crisis?
Nothing. Because he just looks away from Sally Floyd. No doubt thinking, “Oh my God this bitch.” But to underline the argument in question, Sally storms out of the interview, Ben in tow. She still has that information on Norman Osborn’s false flag operation… and while she and Ben confront Tony on everything that went down, they decide the story should never see the light of day. Because they wouldn’t dare jeopardize the SHRA, because security is more important than the truth.
Oh. And then Cap gets shot. And dies. He totally dies (except he doesn’t but we’ll get to that). If ever there was an unintentional thesis statement for this event, running in the late stages of the Bush era, it would be this: “It’s better to trust that the powers that be who oversee the new America will keep you safe, even when they stage false flag operations, stick you in a gulag, and put their trust in monsters. All that civil liberty stuff was the old America. And the old America was hopeless. It wasn’t even on MySpace.”
Epilogue: Consequences Keep Consequencing
As you can tell from that last paragraph, a lot of the fan reception to Civil War likely had a lot to do with the period. This was the Bush era, a time where you were for America or against it. We were in the shadow of the Patriot Act, Gitmo, and widespread wiretaps, paranoid about what civil liberty we’d be asked to put on the pyre next in the name of Freedom. A story all about the warm, clenching fist of government control that tells you to ignore the collateral damage… well, it wasn’t great for the cultural moment.
The ideas of Civil War aren’t necessarily bad ones. I frame Cap as the liberal dream of what America could be, but there are good arguments to be made that America has never been that and Cap is just copium for liberals. His most recent title, Sentinel of Liberty, opens with Steve saying he is out of touch with the average American - not because he doesn’t watch NASCAR, but because he’s a WWII veteran who looks maybe 30 years old at most and whose best friends are all superheroes or spies. A narrative that has him on the wrong side of the issue and detonates his beliefs isn’t impossible, but it probably shouldn’t be one where people who got powers due to a fluke of birth or a radiation accident are told by the government, “Join with us or we’ll send supervillains after you.” Hell, as the Civil War movie proves, there is a way to tell a story about a superhero community torn in half by the idea of mandatory registration as government-controlled actors, and just why people would think that could be a bad idea (“Hey, remember when a good chunk of our intelligence apparatus turned out to be Nazi stay behinds?”).
But in the context of the era, and coupled with the execution, Civil War felt like a hard sell, and you could feel the thumb pressing on the scale every second while reading it. The moral center of the Marvel Universe is wrong, the winning side employs sadistic murderers and has an extradimensional Gitmo, and the writer is telling you that any sane individual would be on Team Green Goblin Employer.
So how did that all work out? Well…
- With Cap seemingly dead, shot by his brainwashed love interest Sharon Carter as part of a plot by the Red Skull, Bucky Barnes/the Winter Soldier becomes the new Cap. Only it turns out Steve wasn’t killed, but shot with a time bullet that Billy Pilgrims his ass. He eventually comes back.
- Thor comes back, finds out what Tony did, and beats his ass all the way across post-Katrina New Orleans (thank you to Powman_7 for the link).
- The Secret Invasion event happens next, which leads to Skrull infiltrators hitting everything (this is also the explanation for Captain Mar-Vell’s miraculous resurrection: He was a Skrull all along). With Tony caught with his pants down and Norman Osborn seeming to save the day, Norman - who has been losing his shit for some time - takes over the Initiative and forms his own fascist cabal, HAMMER. To try and stop Norman from learning everything on every hero ever, Tony goes on the run and actually starts deleting his own brain, which he then reassembles with a backup from before anyone even thought of the SHRA. The fact that getting rid of Tony’s “Oops I did a fascism” period came out alongside Iron Man hitting theaters is a coincidence, I’m sure.
[1] This is eventually explored in the pages of Wolverine, of all books, as Wolverine decides maybe somebody should track down the person who actually killed hundreds of children. It’s revealed that Nitro was given power-boosting drugs by the CEO of Damage Control, Marvel’s designated “clean up after the super-battle” corporation, as a way of generating business. In a sign of how little this matters, Wolverine tells Maria Hill to her face that the person responsible for a mass casualty event is the pawn of a powerful conspiracy, and she basically says, “Not my problem.” Cobie Smulders must thank the gods that her Maria Hill is written as somebody with basic human decency.
[2] Hilariously, when Sally Floyd was brought back during Nick Spencer’s Captain America run because no one had piled enough dung on her corpse, this line was retconned to her asking him about Twitter. Given everything Elon’s been doing lately, we’ll see if that ages just as poorly.
2023.06.02 12:25 Rhion-618 Just One Drop - Ch 88
Chapter 88 - From All I Believed
Morning, Two days before Shel
Captain Setar suppressed a smile as she watched the Ops door close. “Well, that was interesting… Ce’lani is a little cranky.” The last vestiges of sleep clung to her as she settled down into the command chair. She felt worn out, but it was the cusp of dawn, and Pod Seven had only just turned over control. “Report on station?”
“The perimeter’s secure,” Jelki replied crisply, pulling up the map of the campus on the main screen. “Pod One is on station and reports twelve by twelve. Sgt Ma’reis is already complaining about janitor duty.”
“Ah, first pod problems.” Setar shook her head, rubbing her eyes and blowing gently on her mug of tea. “What about the objective?”
“The objective’s secure,” Re’lan piped up, already sounding chipper. The woman could have been priestess of Jrafell. Her unwavering cheeriness would have been a character fault if she weren’t so devoted. As it was, it was a damned penance for everyone else at this time of day.
Jelke finished running the obligatory shift change checks and stretched. Things wouldn't get interesting until breakfast, but watching the perimeter was a given. It didn't keep the curiosity out of her voice, as she cocked her head and glanced over. “What was interesting with Captain Ton’is, Ma’am?”
“Mm! Well… it appears she’s expecting a call from Professor Warrick today,” Setar drawled out, taking a moment to savor their reaction. “She felt a need to remind me she’s devoted to Hele, and that if Be’ona or I let her sleep through the call, she’s going to ‘fuck us up the ass with a lasrifle and pull the trigger’.”
Re’lan was probably blushing like a cadet, but Jelke shook her head ruefully. “I expect there's a ‘but’ in there somewhere, Captain?”
“Well, yeah, she said that’s where the rifle would go…” Setar sniggered before taking a long sip from her tea, and slid a bit lower in the command couch. Her eyes wandered to the traffic on the board. “She also made it clear what’ll happen if anybody listens in.”
Thoughtful silence descended. Setar almost counted to twelve before-
“We’re going to anyway, right Captain?” Jelke asked nonchalantly. “You know, for security’s sake?”
“Sergeant, that would be a base infringement of Captain Ton’is’ privacy, which is in fucking short supply for everyone in this bunker.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, watching the steam rise from her mug. “Deeps right we are.”
_ _ _
Lady Wicama regarded her guest with interest as their autocab plied its way about the outskirts of Prelitauri. While she’d been free and cheerfully able to accommodate Khelira’s request, Monsignor Santino Barcio, or Friar Barcio, as he preferred, was not at all what she’d been expecting. She supposed it was a matter of exposure…
The Palace had never quite been the same since Princess Yn’dara’s wedding. Yn’dara was one of those odd Royals who, though well-regarded, was seldom in the public eye. A perennial favorite of the Empress, indulging her unexplained absences passed as a matter of course for the Court. Widely known to be estranged from her mother, Princess Arduina, no one enquired either deeply or often, so when she suddenly resurfaced, her return would have equally passed without comment… if not for the wedding.
Yn’dara had shocked the entire Nobility.
While it was common for any woman to marry into an established family and become a kho, the wedding should have been singular for a Princess. Princesses didn’t marry into families, Princesses formed them. And while Yn’dara technically had done so, she’d taken on three unmarried women at the same time as her husband, who was a Human! Favorite or no, the wags in the court were agog that the Empress accepted Adam so readily! The Empress, however, had been adamant; Yn’dara and her family had her blessings, and were to be left alone.
However, time had proven to be on Yn’dara’s side as well as the Empress.
After a wedding seen across the galaxy, Yn’dara’s family settled into a life of public duty. They spent long trips away from Shil, and while quietly dismissed as ‘pleasure excursions’, her trips often showed the throne to the outer provinces. Although her public engagements were few, she’d become a vocal advocate of the Empress’ reforms against graft and corruption, and, gradually, the jealous mutters about scandalous excess and Human debauchery faded away. Her marriage remained an unusual footnote, but time had demonstrated the value of Yn’dara and her wives to the throne.
Then there was Prince Adam.
Rumor held the Prince had made a favorable impression on the Empress years before, at an event hosted by Yn’dara’s mother. While details had never been forthcoming, a more significant story about Adam wafted briefly through the ranks of the Golden Glaives.
Both stories had been effectively silenced, but Wicama knew who to talk to, and being Khelira’s guardian carried a certain clout all its own. Though that influence waxed and waned over the years, raising Khelira required being aware of events that could shape her future, and she’d proven herself to be discreet. Over time, doors had opened and words had flowed.
Time had been on Prince Adam’s side, as well.
As the years passed, she’d had an exposure to Prince Adam that few of the court and none of the public enjoyed. She’d been wary at first, but he’d been a good friend and mentor to Princess Khelandri before she joined the Marines, and however infrequent his presence, he always displayed a keen mind, a loving heart, and a steadfast duty to his wives. Privately, he absolutely doted on young Khelira and possessed a loyalty to the Empress that you could bend battlesteel around. The two got along famously - after all, he was a veteran.
Not Navy, mind you, but you couldn’t have everything.
And so, as Humanity began making forays upon the galactic stage, her first impression of the species had been favorable. She’d witnessed Adam mature into his role with the court, and while the issue of children remained unspoken, that faded as well. At the time, Yn’dara had been sixth in the line of succession. A year after the wedding, Kamaud’re became an adult, followed a year later by Khelandri, and the matter became largely moot.
As for a second impression on Humans, Khelira had provided enthusiastic reports about Thomas Warrick. While the Princess thrived at the Academy, Warrick seemed to be something special.
The absence of a father in her life had been a void that no woman could properly fill, but she’d done her best. Although she’d entertained a few qualms, as the months passed by, Warrick remained a positive influence. Khelira’s messages were infrequent by necessity, but she’d written about her distress over Warrick’s family and clearly been moved. Prince Adam carried his own scars, but what veteran didn’t? He hid them carefully around Khelli, and if Warrick had chosen not to, he’d provided a useful sense of perspective, instead. It was time for Khelira to grow up, and that meant facing the grist of differing opinions and ugly realities. That was what education was actually for, and Warrick seemed to be doing admirably well as a grindstone.
All of that was before the library incident, which settled her opinion once and for all. While erratic, irreverent, and capable of violence, Humans clearly could be a positive influence when channeled in the right direction. Yn’dara had shown what a good Shil’vati woman was capable of with Prince Adam, and Lady Pel’avon was following suit.
And at least the wags at the Palace wouldn’t speak of Yn’dara’s state wedding again. As a subject for spectacle, Miv’eire Pel’avon’s had put it to shame.
Still, it was good to see Warrick married. While Professor Ha’meres scandalous exploits had faded from the public eye, older wo… more mature women didn’t forget such things. The man had been a daring adventurer - and an inveterate gadabout - and an unmarried man around that many young women was too tempting for some girls. A wife or two… preferably more… resolved such idle fancies. If the Pel’avon ceremony had been somewhat… questionable in taste, compared to Adam’s, it remained legally binding. Warrick was willing to settle down, and by all reports his wife had a proper sense of decorum.
Human men seemed to be a trial from the Goddess, but hopefully she and her kho-wife could sort him with time, love, and kindness.
While exposure to only two Humans was not what she’d call a comprehensive sample, in both cases her impressions had been quite positive. And so, when Khelli asked her to escort a Human Priest about the city, she’d been entirely willing.
Thus far, it had been an enjoyable morning. While there had been occasional missteps, their conversation had been delightful as they traveled from property to property. Even so, she hadn’t expected to meet such a kindred spirit.
Admittedly she’d stammered a bit when he mentioned eating the flesh and drinking the blood of his redeemer. On the other hand, she compared it to the first time she’d bled into the ocean, mingling salt in her blood with the seas. He’d turned shockingly pale, so she changed the subject. It was a purely symbolic act to Drepna - just a cut on the thumb, for goddess sake...
She’d taken extra care afterwards. Barcio could be clearly a sensitive male, but diplomacy was part of her work. Even calling her role ‘work’ was deceptive. She’d raised Khelira in every way an Empress could not.
It was easy for other women to appreciate the prestige of her position, but few understood the depth of it - or the satisfaction.
During her career in the Navy, her flotilla had provided direct support for the Empress, and they’d come to work closely over three tours. After Khelira’s birth years later, the invitation came from the Royal Household to act as her guardian, and she’d never looked back. Competition had been fierce for the prestigious position, but applying had been the best move of her life.
Empress Kamilesh loved all her children and had spent as much time with each of them as she could, but her work was all-consuming, and after her husband’s act of… Well, the Empress had been there, but she’d born her pain privately. She had lost herself in her work for many years before recovering a semblance of her former self, and her absence had taken a toll on her children. Kamaud’re had taken it the worst. Khelandri had bounced back, while everyone doted on Lu’ral. Barely more than an infant, Khelira had been far too young to remember. Wicama had been there through all of it.
It was a good life, and the princess was a delightful girl. For Wicama, the absence of a man in her life was something she’d felt now and then, but she invested her life in Khelira. The Empress treated her as a member of the family in all but name… and in a very real sense, the child you raised was your child.
Looking back, some women might insinuate she’d given up her personal life to raise another woman’s daughter. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
She had her calling - just as Friar Barcio had his.
Yes, he was a priest, and his religious strictures were very unusual. A male priest in any of the Shil’vati faiths would never be placed under such restraints, and for a man to go unmarried was noteworthy…
But she understood having a calling. Oh yes, she understood that as few others could.
After discussing his needs, they’d set out to examine three properties around Prelitauri. The Friar’s individual requirements were deceptively difficult when taken as a whole. A complex coupling a generous auditorium, ample administrative space, and he clearly needed substantial grounds to properly convey a sense of aura. Such accommodations were seldom on the market, and since he expected his colleagues to arrive in weeks, his need was immediate.
Thankfully, urban renewal moved in waves. The tides of such fashions meant Prelitauri was once again an up-and-coming area. While difficult to find, three older structures had the potential to be suitable, and so it was that she’d enjoyed learning about her guest as they explored the tiny district.
The Monsignor spoke four other Earth languages fluently. He tended to break into his native tongue and hadn’t mastered contractions yet, but his Vatikre was passable and he listened carefully, seldom needing to ask about a word. After limiting her contractions when she spoke, their conversation flowed easily.
Barcio had shown little enthusiasm for the first two properties, but their conversation regarding other matters never waned. She expanded on her devotion to Drepna, Shil and the roles of each goddess while asking careful questions of his faith. His own inquiries proved thoughtful, and he was as avid in politely asking after her beliefs as explaining his faith.
After their second hour together, she’d taken the liberty of calling Prelate Hi’meta Merlamiss. As a priestess of Drepna’s second circle, Merlamiss had proven a valuable contact over the years. Well connected, she enjoyed a good relationship with many other prelates of the Divine Halls; she also got on well with Xinfess, the Rakiri’s Speaker of the Dark Mother on Shil. A meeting with Barcio would readily open doors for his group that might otherwise prove difficult to attain, and while Barcio’s accent strained now and then, it was clear the Monsignor and the Prelate shared a questionably low sense of humor.
Given a chance, they’d probably get on famously.
Certainly, that would be a blessing. Their hunt for a suitable facility had not gone nearly so well, and while Barcio had been conciliatory toward the first two facilities, she could tell he wasn’t taken with either. The last property wasn’t high in her expectations, so she found herself casting her head to the side when it swept into view and he clasped his hands in excitement.
”*È bella!* This is beautiful,” he exclaimed. “It reminds me a bit of my childhood home in Sacile!”
She looked out at the complex with its low gabled roofs, as their cab wound up from the entrance. Beside the drive, a small river meandered through the campus past the main buildings. She tapped the console to slow their ride and considered the place in a new light. “I’m… well, a bit surprised to be honest, Friar.”
“Please! We have been traveling for hours now, and I am not holding a service.” The Friar spared her a warm smile, before gazing back at the premises. “I would take it as a great kindness if you would call me Santino.”
“Very well - on the condition you call me Wicama.” It had been some time since anyone called her by anything but title or rank, and the informality was pleasant. Still, as their autocab closed on the end of the lane, she let such thoughts go and considered the location properly.
The buildings were low, sensible cubes, but that was largely an end to it. The architect had made some unusual choices in Helkam motifs that strained understanding. A long colonnade bordered the river, and that seemed nice enough, but the buildings! Forgoing purple was one thing, but they were beige! With unusual elements and the repressively bland color scheme, it was small wonder the clerk handling the property confessed that the space had lain vacant. Its original owners went into foreclosure. The exotic design had proven unable to attract interest, laying dormant ever since.
Barcio… Santino… seemed delighted, however, and she pulled up the specifications on her omni-pad. “This site has two smaller auditoriums besides the main one, while the central building has four floors. One is underground, but all the floors face an interior atrium.”
As the cab gently halted in the car park, she climbed out to hold the door but Santino had already scrambled out and was examining the gardens with evident interest. Tall stands of parago trees were losing the last of their fronds for the year, but she had to admit the grounds were substantial. Yesterday’s storm had left the morning air cold and crisp, lending the gardens an appealing aspect. Untended since the last owners, much could be done with them.
She had given up trying to escort the Friar anywhere after their first two stops, and now they fell into an easy pace side by side as they strolled toward the main building. She turned back to the property itself. “So, this reminds you of your home?”
It wasn’t exactly Helkam architecture - domes weren’t covering every possible surface - but the builder had clearly been nodding in that direction. A promenade wound to the entry, supporting white chevrons that arced into the sky. The bright morning sky shone through clever cutouts, making the unusual design at least look light, rather than oppressive and unappealing. With a decent renovation, the facility had possibilities, and the price was comparatively low.
“*Si!* Oh, not so much like home, but there is the sense of it. I was born near the sea, and this feels… similar.” He gave her a depreciating smile before rolling his eyes. “It may not please everyone who is coming, but ‘everyone’ is not here, so I am allowed some indulgence! Better to have something waiting than nothing at all. I confess, some of my colleagues thought we’d only manage when the bridge to Messina is finished.”
“You should not have been sent ahead alone! Surely your colleagues were not that worried about a poor reception,” she tutted. Priest or no, there were decencies about a man traveling alone to be observed. “You shouldn't need a bridge to find a place for your mission. I don’t know where Messina is, but I’m certain Prelate Marlemis wouldn’t stand for it!”
“Tch! Excuse my poor efforts! The older I get, the more I remember things like yesterday. Unfortunately, the yesterdays I remember so well were thirty years ago!” Barcio smiled wryly up at her as they walked. “The ‘bridge to Messina’ used to be a saying… People dreamed of building a bridge to Sicily, and it became something that never happened. My English friends would instead say ‘when hell freezes over’. *Un'espressione volgare*, but very much to the point.”
“Ah… I’m sure we can manage something, and this could be made presentable. Maybe change the beige to a pale violet?” she offered helpfully as she made it to the door first, holding it open. “The aura inside isn’t so bad.”
“You’ve said that several times, but I do not know what you mean?” He paused in looking around the entry, which had an open foyer exposing the two floors above and led out to the atrium beyond. “What is ‘aura’? I do not think I know the word as you mean it.”
“Aura is… Hmm…” Wicama paused thoughtfully and gestured at the atrium. The interior was in better shape than the grounds, and the architect had done something clever. Not yet noon, a bevel along the top edge filled the space with sunlight. “Have you ever walked along a beach and wanted to save a shell? When you are there, that is aura… When you take the shell home and think of the beach, that is aura, but… less focused. Diminished. You sense the beach because of the shell, but you are not at the beach. Places can have aura, but it is more than character. If you move through a place and find yourself experiencing it? That is aura.”
“Mhm! *lodevole!* I like this idea very much. It would be right at home in the Vatican. Not everyone understands a space can move the spirit, or lend power to a message.” He nodded thoughtfully as he cast his eye about the open space. “With the right advice, perhaps we can lead others to these halls.”
“Perhaps. If you tour the Palace, I hope you’ll allow me to show you about? A lot of the real gems are hidden from the public.” She watched as he wandered toward the double-helixed stairways bordering the room. Those were definitely Helkam; walking up one side without meeting someone coming down the other was an interesting experience… once. After that, they could be an absolute nuisance. Spotting the elevators, she called him back. “The nice thing is this place is inexpensive! That will pad out your funds for a good remodel.”
Wicama quietly thanked the Goddesses that the builder’s had the good sense to install normal Shil’vati-style elevators. The sides were open, granting a wide view out over the atrium. The grounds were terraced to create a small park; that could make the underground space bearable, and the plans made them seem spacious enough. Not to everyone’s taste, but pretty. “I feel bad for asking, but can you afford the building? If the price of the first two bothered you, we can find others.”
“I would not hear of it! Thank you for your concern, but we are economical with our funds, and were sent with a generous sum. This is an important venture to everyone involved,” Barcio clasped a hand over his chest, as he shook his head. “I can not thank you enough for your help! You have surely spared me weeks, and I might not have found something half so suitable. As it is, the grounds are enough to gain me converts. Father Roscio and Pastor Weber will surely plant a vineyard before the inside is half done!”
“It’s not a problem. I have plenty of time,” she replied, dismissing the matter as inconsequential. “I work at the Palace, but with the Court away and my daughter at school, I’m a bit at loose ends just now. At the very least, I insist on helping you through the paperwork. I wouldn’t put it past some realty clerks to try and overcharge you… Someone from outside Shil, that is. I’ll ensure they stick to the listing.”
“To someone not from Shil… or someone who is not Shil’vati, perhaps?” His head canted slightly to one side, but he smiled as he said it. “*Certamente!* I would not dream of preventing you, though Rabbi Kleinbaum will be bitterly disappointed she has nothing to moan about.”
“I hope you won't take this badly, as I’ve only met one Human.” Wicama gave him a smile. She was long past girlish uncertainty, and the Navy had taught her a generous measure of professional poise to go with her skills as a markswoman. “You aren’t what I expected.”
“You know the professore, then?” He sucked in a breath and pursed his lips. “I am still deciding what sort of man he is.”
“No, actually, I know another Human but I’ve not… I have not… met Professor Warrick.”
“So. You mean that I am not *un barbaro*? I am here to make sure that we are seen as something more than savage warriors, *capisci*?” He studied her expectantly. “While the Imperium is doing good work on Earth, some still live in want. The Imperium provides enough for all to survive, but not all live in plenty. We need to present ourselves well.”
”That seems like a very secular outlook.” She offered, as they rode up to the third floor. Barcio asked for an explanation of the word, and by the time they’d made their way through the first offices he had the idea.
“My church has not always troubled itself with such things, but our holy father is greatly concerned with such inequalities. He takes it upon himself to address such matters with the Governess, when their time allows.”
“Your church has a good relationship with her?”
“È straordinario! The Governess adores our food, and while she was adamant about taking quarters in the Vatican, she has taken pains not to disturb us.” He shrugged dismissively. “*Cosa sai fare?* It seemed a small price, and we have endured far worse.”
“I used to hear terrible stories about red zones on Earth, though the Humans I’ve met don't seem the sort. It is good that your… pulp?” She tried the word and was rewarded with kind laughter and a gentle correction. “It is good that your pope concerns himself with the full welfare of the people and works with your governess. Our prelates share the same concerns.”
“I thought the Empress was the head of your church? Now, I find you have many…” he groped for a word, frowning, and gave up. “*Questo accento è una prova di fede!* ‘Denominations’ is not the right word, but she is the one revered, yes?”
“Of course! The Empress has to show all of our virtues and none of our faults, but that’s part of her role. To favor any divinity over the others could cause divisions. She has her personal preferences, of course, but never lets them be known.” Wicama explained carefully. “It would be in poor taste.”
“And poor politics, I think?” Santino gave her a long look. At his height it was difficult, but he managed. “This makes sense to me now, that the Imperium leaves matters of faith alone. *Una benedizione inaspettata.*”
Despite the serious topic, his fervent reply brought a smile back to her lips. “It seems your pope considers politics as well as economics.”
“People will always defend economic theories which assume that growth will inevitably succeed in bringing about greater justice. This has never been confirmed by the facts, and expresses a crude trust in the goodness of those wielding economic power and the sacralized workings of the prevailing economic system.” He said, stopping to clasp a hand over his cross. “Meanwhile, the excluded are still waiting.”
“That doesn't sound like scripture.” She offered cautiously, as they made their way into a wider suite of offices on the second floor.
“*Esattamente.* The words of Pope Francis, a good and blessed man who appointed me to my position. His successor, his holiness John Paul the Third, is much of the same mind,” Santino said quietly. “Our savior washed the feet of others and urged all to do the same. The hardest step is to be involved. To work together for change, as well as to pray. That is why I am here.
“*I pigri di cuore trovano sempre una scusa* Some Humans, they are yet angry with the Imperium. Now they have enough, they are bitter not to have plenty. For some there is never enough - the true poverty lies within their hearts,” Santino said a bit testily. “Our faith teaches us to find salvation in eternal life, but others? *Pigrizia!* They see it as an excuse from taking agency in themselves. Jesus washed the feet of others - he did not lay down and wait for someone to wash his!”
Wicama turned the unfamiliar metaphor over in her mind but decided she had the sense of it. “Sham teaches us that helping our families and one another is the same as helping ourselves. ‘The rising tide bares us all from the reefs’.” It was a matter of faith… but that was why it was faith in the first place. On the whole, it seemed like a mature perspective that explained the changes she’d seen in Prince Adam over the years. “You’re here to meet with others, but this seems as much about knowing yourselves.”
“*Sì, non è una brutta cosa avere umiltà davanti a Dio.* Human beings, while we are capable of the worst, we are also capable of choosing the good. Of rising up to make a new start. We are entering the galaxy.” He gestured out the window at the world beyond. “If not now… when?”
_ _ _ “So, when are you going to explain this masterpiece you four have been cooking up?” Marin asked. Sammi and Sam were barely awake but the twins had already arrived, bright-eyed and enthusiastic, and Marin cursed the resilience of youth. The room was acceptably warm, but Ayen had complained about the cold and used the excuse to slip back into bed. She was considering her options for joining him.
Somewhere, somehow, Sammi had found their rabbit pajamas again. “Sam, explain it to her? You do it better.” Sammi yawned, but Marin suspected it was an act. Once something got their attention, sleep was usually an afterthought.
“What, now?” Sam had barely stumbled into the room and blinked. Bleary-eyed and barely awake, he looked like he’d been ambushed, which was exactly the case.
“Pllllllleeeease…?” They sat back pulling the ears, giving their best Roger Rabbit impression. Luminous green eyes peered out at Sam, imploringly.
“Alright… I need coffee, but fine.” Sam trudged over to the kitchenette and poked listlessly at the instant coffee. It was getting perilously low, but Marin was sure he’d brought more on the ship. Eventually Sam gestured at the K’herbhal sisters with his mug. “So the girls want to create an artificial topological soliton. It's like a black hole, except where it isn't… It's sort of a kink in space-time.”
“Made you say kink!” Sammi grinned impishly and the girls blushed. Marin shook her head but paid attention. It felt far too early after another late night, but once everyone was up you had to hang on for whatever came next.
“So, what's that got to do with this… hole you want to use for power?” Marin raised her voice just enough to drag the conversation back on track.
“It’s more like a side effect. If it cuts the right angle, it goes into a realm of space-time we can tap for power. Think of it as an obverse of an energy drain, so it's like a white hole.”
“Let me guess.” Marin shook her head and grinned, holding up a hand to forestall the inevitable. “Except where it isn’t?”
“Ummm… pretty much.” Sam grumbled, blowing at his coffee. Marin glanced back at the twins. With Sam busy, the twins had gravitated to either side of Sammi. There was room left on the couch, and she wandered over to settle in beside one of them.
The Sams had been complaining for years about a lack of ‘focal power’ for their mass compression technologies, and while a rubber duck inside a diamond was impressive, they’d wanted to do something more - a lot more. She suspected if the twins were providing the means, then they already had something about to surface from the depths of their imaginations. Over the years she’d learned to pick a bit, rather than take their answers at straight value. “And if things don’t cut at the right angle? You remember how long it took to get rid of the Navy, when you started talking about making black holes?”
“It's not our fault they didn’t understand,” Sammi said defensively, crossing their arms and pouting at her before the rabbit ears fell over their face.
“Who didn’t understand what?” Akeimei yawned at the door. She cast a wink her way before wrapping her arms around Sam and gave him a quick hug. “What did I miss?”
“Umm… a parallel universe, if the math is right,” Sam mumbled from the depths of his coffee cup.
“What? Like identical versions of us?” Marin watched Akimei’s nose wrinkled at the smell before she slipped away from Sam. Slipped down beside her, they rubbed shoulders a moment. “Tell me, is there one where I get more sleep?”
“More or less identical… though it's not like you need to go into a parallel universe for that sort of thing. There’s already a ‘you’ out there somewhere right now, to say nothing of past and future ‘you’.” Sam scratched his cheek idly for a moment “It's just the math. The universe is so vast that there are exact physical cosmic twins of us out there somewhere, not to mention even more almost-twins.”
“Sam’s right!” Sammi perked up excitedly, bouncing on the sofa. “Then there are quantum cosmic twins - which gets weird because particles exist in multiple states and you’d sort of overlap… but the easiest one is probably just another us elsewhere in the universe right now! That's sort of the point where the universe is bigger than you can imagine!”
“So exactly the same… or almost.” One of the twins giggled. “Just like us!”
“Pretty much,” Sam nodded, slowly emerging from the depths of his coffee. “Another you out there on another Shil, or another me on a whole Earth, even - just a little bit different.”
“What? Like an Earth that never met the Imperium?” Marin canted her head, tossing out the obvious. It was hard to remember her life before, and she didn’t want to contemplate the alternative.
“Oh, I don't like that idea.” One of the twins stuck out her lip. “We want to come to Earth!”
“Yeah,” her sister nodded, though she suddenly looked glum. “I don’t know if Professor Warrick would mind though. He’d be with his wife and daughter, there.”
“Oh…” her sister's face crumpled. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Well, don’t…” Sammi hugged them both a moment, though they held the first twin a bit tighter. “The point is, somewhere he’s with them right now!”
“Wow, I guess so.” she brightened. “Just imagine! A whole Earth that never met the Shil’vati!”
“I wouldn’t worry, sis.” her twin nodded. “I think Professor Warrick is pretty happy right now.”
_ _ _
“I am not happy about this!” Tom glared at his omni-pad before tossing it down in frustration.
Miv looked up at her husband.
“It’s an honor!” She tucked her chin in and gave him a long, considered look, “What is it that’s bothering you - really? It wasn't Monsignor Barcio. Are you certain this isn't the same sort of thing?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” he growled, looking away like a guilty child. “Alright, maybe… but this uniform is the silliest thing I’ve ever seen. I’ll look like a mushroom, and the hat only makes it worse!" Tom grimaced at the omni-pad accusingly, "They won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so now I’m on the rolls as a Warden Captain - whatever that is - and this ceremony is ridiculous!”
“The ceremony is traditional. Very symbolic... Besides, they don't make wardens out of anyone below the rank of captain - I looked it up. You were one before, so it's appropriate to make you one instead of a Warden Major or Warden Colonel.” She smiled at him serenely. “Surely, it can’t be the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
He turned to wag a finger her way. “I’ll take that bet!”
“Worse than our wedding reception…?” She crooned, teasing him. “Or maybe pre-term night? I swear by the Goddess no one will pinch your ass, except for Lea and I.”
“Fine…” Her smile grew wider as he grumbled, but he was calming down already and there wasn't heat in it. Still, he stubbornly clung on to the point a while longer. "It’s in my top five.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive, husband. Now then, I have meetings all afternoon, so why don't you finish reviewing the menu? You’ll feel better when all this is over and you can go back to cooking, chess, or starting that eeeyiy club… You might even give Ce’lani a call or message her?” She gathered her coat and smiled demurely, though it harbored nothing innocent. “If I’m not here you’ll have perfect privacy… Just don't promise anything you wouldn't promise to me.”
“It’s iai-do…” Tom groused, but he was already picking up his omni-pad.
She blew him a kiss and made her way toward the commons. Tom would probably stew a while, but he’d make the call.
There would be time to meet with Ce’lani on the common, before she had to come home for dinner.
_ _ _
Tom looked over the banquet menu as if it might reach out and bite him. The words stared up at him with perfect innocence.
Appetizer: Fruit and Cheese Platter - Slices of various cheeses and fruits on a platter providing a delicate mix of sweet, tangy and creamy to invigorate the dining experience. Serve with a selection of sweet and semi-sweet wines.
Soup: Choice of Tomato or French Onion Soup - Served with a piece of baguette and cheese.
Salad: Strawberry Salad with Poppy Seed Dressing -- an assortment of greens and fruit with a balsamic grain dressing to cleanse the palate.
Entree: Cornish Pasty - This herb-infused meat and pastry dish provides a counterpoint to the tangy taste of the salad and soup. Served with a creamy buttered mashed potato (a vegetable, humanely prepared!) with chives (also a vegetable). Served with a selection of wines or ales.
Dessert: Chef’s Sorbet Surprise - A sweet treat complemented by a palate cleanser, ending the meal on a piquant note.
His last call with Bherdin had been a trial and a half. Omni-pads were the definition of ‘high fidelity’, and hearing the little Shil’vati hyperventilate for ten minutes over the plan was pointless. At least Melondi had easier going with Vedeem on her side... one way or another this was happening.
As a final consolation, he relented on wearing matching suits. Bherdin frequently bemoaned Tom’s 'lamentable' fashion sense, and he perked up at that, promising to get him some appropriate formalwear for the occasion.
Privately, he suspected his Shil’vati friend was looking for a convenient alibi if a riot started.
In fairness, it probably wasn't a bad idea.
“Too late to use it myself…” he muttered. It wasn’t quite noon, and Miv was probably right. Instead of Chess Club or starting Iai-do practice or just cooking out at Human Food, he was stuck here at home. Miv’s place was bigger, but most of his stuff was still in boxes; it left him listless and climbing the walls. If this worked, at least things could get back to normal.
…Mostly normal…
He flipped back to the picture of the Warden uniform on his omni-pad. It was bad enough, but the hat made the whole thing look like a blue toadstool in silver filigree.
He swiped the picture away like an act of revenge, but didn’t toss the pad back on the table.
…Miv was right... and I promised to call Ce’lani…
Tom centered himself, pulling up the number. The universe was always in motion and a good Taoist accepted their part in what came. That was the lesson of ‘the Vinegar Tasters’, and it held true… The painting showed three men standing around a vat of vinegar. Each has dipped his finger into the vinegar and tasted it. The expression on each man's face showed his individual reaction.
The painting was an allegory for Confucius, Buddha, and Lao-tse. Confucius wore a sour look on his face. He believed life was out of harmony with the universe. As the second figure in the painting, Buddha had a bitter expression. Like the vinegar, life was painful and filled with attachments and desires that led to suffering. The last man, Lao-tse, was smiling at the taste. To him, harmony existed naturally and could be found by anyone at any time in any experience.
He thought about his buddy Dave. The old Marine would probably shake his head and tell him to ‘embrace the suck.’ It pretty much boiled down to the same thing.
Not that he was against calling. Miv and Lea had practically taken turns urging him on and giving their views on why it was a good idea. They hadn't harped about it, but he knew which way the wind was blowing. And Ce’lani’s message had been short, sweet in the literal sense, and the sound file she’d offered up had been…
…Pretty nice, really…
If he still said no, or decided he didn't like where this was going, they’d back his choice, of course. He didn't have a doubt in his mind… But with everything else in his life turned upside down, calling Ce’lani seemed like a calm in the eye of a storm.
…It's just a phone call. Leave the chaos at the gate…
He settled down on the couch to check his messages before giving her a call. It was nearly lunch…
submitted by Rhion-618 to Sexyspacebabes [link] [comments]
Morning, Two days before Shel
Captain Setar suppressed a smile as she watched the Ops door close. “Well, that was interesting… Ce’lani is a little cranky.” The last vestiges of sleep clung to her as she settled down into the command chair. She felt worn out, but it was the cusp of dawn, and Pod Seven had only just turned over control. “Report on station?”
“The perimeter’s secure,” Jelki replied crisply, pulling up the map of the campus on the main screen. “Pod One is on station and reports twelve by twelve. Sgt Ma’reis is already complaining about janitor duty.”
“Ah, first pod problems.” Setar shook her head, rubbing her eyes and blowing gently on her mug of tea. “What about the objective?”
“The objective’s secure,” Re’lan piped up, already sounding chipper. The woman could have been priestess of Jrafell. Her unwavering cheeriness would have been a character fault if she weren’t so devoted. As it was, it was a damned penance for everyone else at this time of day.
Jelke finished running the obligatory shift change checks and stretched. Things wouldn't get interesting until breakfast, but watching the perimeter was a given. It didn't keep the curiosity out of her voice, as she cocked her head and glanced over. “What was interesting with Captain Ton’is, Ma’am?”
“Mm! Well… it appears she’s expecting a call from Professor Warrick today,” Setar drawled out, taking a moment to savor their reaction. “She felt a need to remind me she’s devoted to Hele, and that if Be’ona or I let her sleep through the call, she’s going to ‘fuck us up the ass with a lasrifle and pull the trigger’.”
Re’lan was probably blushing like a cadet, but Jelke shook her head ruefully. “I expect there's a ‘but’ in there somewhere, Captain?”
“Well, yeah, she said that’s where the rifle would go…” Setar sniggered before taking a long sip from her tea, and slid a bit lower in the command couch. Her eyes wandered to the traffic on the board. “She also made it clear what’ll happen if anybody listens in.”
Thoughtful silence descended. Setar almost counted to twelve before-
“We’re going to anyway, right Captain?” Jelke asked nonchalantly. “You know, for security’s sake?”
“Sergeant, that would be a base infringement of Captain Ton’is’ privacy, which is in fucking short supply for everyone in this bunker.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, watching the steam rise from her mug. “Deeps right we are.”
_ _ _
Lady Wicama regarded her guest with interest as their autocab plied its way about the outskirts of Prelitauri. While she’d been free and cheerfully able to accommodate Khelira’s request, Monsignor Santino Barcio, or Friar Barcio, as he preferred, was not at all what she’d been expecting. She supposed it was a matter of exposure…
The Palace had never quite been the same since Princess Yn’dara’s wedding. Yn’dara was one of those odd Royals who, though well-regarded, was seldom in the public eye. A perennial favorite of the Empress, indulging her unexplained absences passed as a matter of course for the Court. Widely known to be estranged from her mother, Princess Arduina, no one enquired either deeply or often, so when she suddenly resurfaced, her return would have equally passed without comment… if not for the wedding.
Yn’dara had shocked the entire Nobility.
While it was common for any woman to marry into an established family and become a kho, the wedding should have been singular for a Princess. Princesses didn’t marry into families, Princesses formed them. And while Yn’dara technically had done so, she’d taken on three unmarried women at the same time as her husband, who was a Human! Favorite or no, the wags in the court were agog that the Empress accepted Adam so readily! The Empress, however, had been adamant; Yn’dara and her family had her blessings, and were to be left alone.
However, time had proven to be on Yn’dara’s side as well as the Empress.
After a wedding seen across the galaxy, Yn’dara’s family settled into a life of public duty. They spent long trips away from Shil, and while quietly dismissed as ‘pleasure excursions’, her trips often showed the throne to the outer provinces. Although her public engagements were few, she’d become a vocal advocate of the Empress’ reforms against graft and corruption, and, gradually, the jealous mutters about scandalous excess and Human debauchery faded away. Her marriage remained an unusual footnote, but time had demonstrated the value of Yn’dara and her wives to the throne.
Then there was Prince Adam.
Rumor held the Prince had made a favorable impression on the Empress years before, at an event hosted by Yn’dara’s mother. While details had never been forthcoming, a more significant story about Adam wafted briefly through the ranks of the Golden Glaives.
Both stories had been effectively silenced, but Wicama knew who to talk to, and being Khelira’s guardian carried a certain clout all its own. Though that influence waxed and waned over the years, raising Khelira required being aware of events that could shape her future, and she’d proven herself to be discreet. Over time, doors had opened and words had flowed.
Time had been on Prince Adam’s side, as well.
As the years passed, she’d had an exposure to Prince Adam that few of the court and none of the public enjoyed. She’d been wary at first, but he’d been a good friend and mentor to Princess Khelandri before she joined the Marines, and however infrequent his presence, he always displayed a keen mind, a loving heart, and a steadfast duty to his wives. Privately, he absolutely doted on young Khelira and possessed a loyalty to the Empress that you could bend battlesteel around. The two got along famously - after all, he was a veteran.
Not Navy, mind you, but you couldn’t have everything.
And so, as Humanity began making forays upon the galactic stage, her first impression of the species had been favorable. She’d witnessed Adam mature into his role with the court, and while the issue of children remained unspoken, that faded as well. At the time, Yn’dara had been sixth in the line of succession. A year after the wedding, Kamaud’re became an adult, followed a year later by Khelandri, and the matter became largely moot.
As for a second impression on Humans, Khelira had provided enthusiastic reports about Thomas Warrick. While the Princess thrived at the Academy, Warrick seemed to be something special.
The absence of a father in her life had been a void that no woman could properly fill, but she’d done her best. Although she’d entertained a few qualms, as the months passed by, Warrick remained a positive influence. Khelira’s messages were infrequent by necessity, but she’d written about her distress over Warrick’s family and clearly been moved. Prince Adam carried his own scars, but what veteran didn’t? He hid them carefully around Khelli, and if Warrick had chosen not to, he’d provided a useful sense of perspective, instead. It was time for Khelira to grow up, and that meant facing the grist of differing opinions and ugly realities. That was what education was actually for, and Warrick seemed to be doing admirably well as a grindstone.
All of that was before the library incident, which settled her opinion once and for all. While erratic, irreverent, and capable of violence, Humans clearly could be a positive influence when channeled in the right direction. Yn’dara had shown what a good Shil’vati woman was capable of with Prince Adam, and Lady Pel’avon was following suit.
And at least the wags at the Palace wouldn’t speak of Yn’dara’s state wedding again. As a subject for spectacle, Miv’eire Pel’avon’s had put it to shame.
Still, it was good to see Warrick married. While Professor Ha’meres scandalous exploits had faded from the public eye, older wo… more mature women didn’t forget such things. The man had been a daring adventurer - and an inveterate gadabout - and an unmarried man around that many young women was too tempting for some girls. A wife or two… preferably more… resolved such idle fancies. If the Pel’avon ceremony had been somewhat… questionable in taste, compared to Adam’s, it remained legally binding. Warrick was willing to settle down, and by all reports his wife had a proper sense of decorum.
Human men seemed to be a trial from the Goddess, but hopefully she and her kho-wife could sort him with time, love, and kindness.
While exposure to only two Humans was not what she’d call a comprehensive sample, in both cases her impressions had been quite positive. And so, when Khelli asked her to escort a Human Priest about the city, she’d been entirely willing.
Thus far, it had been an enjoyable morning. While there had been occasional missteps, their conversation had been delightful as they traveled from property to property. Even so, she hadn’t expected to meet such a kindred spirit.
Admittedly she’d stammered a bit when he mentioned eating the flesh and drinking the blood of his redeemer. On the other hand, she compared it to the first time she’d bled into the ocean, mingling salt in her blood with the seas. He’d turned shockingly pale, so she changed the subject. It was a purely symbolic act to Drepna - just a cut on the thumb, for goddess sake...
She’d taken extra care afterwards. Barcio could be clearly a sensitive male, but diplomacy was part of her work. Even calling her role ‘work’ was deceptive. She’d raised Khelira in every way an Empress could not.
It was easy for other women to appreciate the prestige of her position, but few understood the depth of it - or the satisfaction.
During her career in the Navy, her flotilla had provided direct support for the Empress, and they’d come to work closely over three tours. After Khelira’s birth years later, the invitation came from the Royal Household to act as her guardian, and she’d never looked back. Competition had been fierce for the prestigious position, but applying had been the best move of her life.
Empress Kamilesh loved all her children and had spent as much time with each of them as she could, but her work was all-consuming, and after her husband’s act of… Well, the Empress had been there, but she’d born her pain privately. She had lost herself in her work for many years before recovering a semblance of her former self, and her absence had taken a toll on her children. Kamaud’re had taken it the worst. Khelandri had bounced back, while everyone doted on Lu’ral. Barely more than an infant, Khelira had been far too young to remember. Wicama had been there through all of it.
It was a good life, and the princess was a delightful girl. For Wicama, the absence of a man in her life was something she’d felt now and then, but she invested her life in Khelira. The Empress treated her as a member of the family in all but name… and in a very real sense, the child you raised was your child.
Looking back, some women might insinuate she’d given up her personal life to raise another woman’s daughter. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
She had her calling - just as Friar Barcio had his.
Yes, he was a priest, and his religious strictures were very unusual. A male priest in any of the Shil’vati faiths would never be placed under such restraints, and for a man to go unmarried was noteworthy…
But she understood having a calling. Oh yes, she understood that as few others could.
After discussing his needs, they’d set out to examine three properties around Prelitauri. The Friar’s individual requirements were deceptively difficult when taken as a whole. A complex coupling a generous auditorium, ample administrative space, and he clearly needed substantial grounds to properly convey a sense of aura. Such accommodations were seldom on the market, and since he expected his colleagues to arrive in weeks, his need was immediate.
Thankfully, urban renewal moved in waves. The tides of such fashions meant Prelitauri was once again an up-and-coming area. While difficult to find, three older structures had the potential to be suitable, and so it was that she’d enjoyed learning about her guest as they explored the tiny district.
The Monsignor spoke four other Earth languages fluently. He tended to break into his native tongue and hadn’t mastered contractions yet, but his Vatikre was passable and he listened carefully, seldom needing to ask about a word. After limiting her contractions when she spoke, their conversation flowed easily.
Barcio had shown little enthusiasm for the first two properties, but their conversation regarding other matters never waned. She expanded on her devotion to Drepna, Shil and the roles of each goddess while asking careful questions of his faith. His own inquiries proved thoughtful, and he was as avid in politely asking after her beliefs as explaining his faith.
After their second hour together, she’d taken the liberty of calling Prelate Hi’meta Merlamiss. As a priestess of Drepna’s second circle, Merlamiss had proven a valuable contact over the years. Well connected, she enjoyed a good relationship with many other prelates of the Divine Halls; she also got on well with Xinfess, the Rakiri’s Speaker of the Dark Mother on Shil. A meeting with Barcio would readily open doors for his group that might otherwise prove difficult to attain, and while Barcio’s accent strained now and then, it was clear the Monsignor and the Prelate shared a questionably low sense of humor.
Given a chance, they’d probably get on famously.
Certainly, that would be a blessing. Their hunt for a suitable facility had not gone nearly so well, and while Barcio had been conciliatory toward the first two facilities, she could tell he wasn’t taken with either. The last property wasn’t high in her expectations, so she found herself casting her head to the side when it swept into view and he clasped his hands in excitement.
”*È bella!* This is beautiful,” he exclaimed. “It reminds me a bit of my childhood home in Sacile!”
She looked out at the complex with its low gabled roofs, as their cab wound up from the entrance. Beside the drive, a small river meandered through the campus past the main buildings. She tapped the console to slow their ride and considered the place in a new light. “I’m… well, a bit surprised to be honest, Friar.”
“Please! We have been traveling for hours now, and I am not holding a service.” The Friar spared her a warm smile, before gazing back at the premises. “I would take it as a great kindness if you would call me Santino.”
“Very well - on the condition you call me Wicama.” It had been some time since anyone called her by anything but title or rank, and the informality was pleasant. Still, as their autocab closed on the end of the lane, she let such thoughts go and considered the location properly.
The buildings were low, sensible cubes, but that was largely an end to it. The architect had made some unusual choices in Helkam motifs that strained understanding. A long colonnade bordered the river, and that seemed nice enough, but the buildings! Forgoing purple was one thing, but they were beige! With unusual elements and the repressively bland color scheme, it was small wonder the clerk handling the property confessed that the space had lain vacant. Its original owners went into foreclosure. The exotic design had proven unable to attract interest, laying dormant ever since.
Barcio… Santino… seemed delighted, however, and she pulled up the specifications on her omni-pad. “This site has two smaller auditoriums besides the main one, while the central building has four floors. One is underground, but all the floors face an interior atrium.”
As the cab gently halted in the car park, she climbed out to hold the door but Santino had already scrambled out and was examining the gardens with evident interest. Tall stands of parago trees were losing the last of their fronds for the year, but she had to admit the grounds were substantial. Yesterday’s storm had left the morning air cold and crisp, lending the gardens an appealing aspect. Untended since the last owners, much could be done with them.
She had given up trying to escort the Friar anywhere after their first two stops, and now they fell into an easy pace side by side as they strolled toward the main building. She turned back to the property itself. “So, this reminds you of your home?”
It wasn’t exactly Helkam architecture - domes weren’t covering every possible surface - but the builder had clearly been nodding in that direction. A promenade wound to the entry, supporting white chevrons that arced into the sky. The bright morning sky shone through clever cutouts, making the unusual design at least look light, rather than oppressive and unappealing. With a decent renovation, the facility had possibilities, and the price was comparatively low.
“*Si!* Oh, not so much like home, but there is the sense of it. I was born near the sea, and this feels… similar.” He gave her a depreciating smile before rolling his eyes. “It may not please everyone who is coming, but ‘everyone’ is not here, so I am allowed some indulgence! Better to have something waiting than nothing at all. I confess, some of my colleagues thought we’d only manage when the bridge to Messina is finished.”
“You should not have been sent ahead alone! Surely your colleagues were not that worried about a poor reception,” she tutted. Priest or no, there were decencies about a man traveling alone to be observed. “You shouldn't need a bridge to find a place for your mission. I don’t know where Messina is, but I’m certain Prelate Marlemis wouldn’t stand for it!”
“Tch! Excuse my poor efforts! The older I get, the more I remember things like yesterday. Unfortunately, the yesterdays I remember so well were thirty years ago!” Barcio smiled wryly up at her as they walked. “The ‘bridge to Messina’ used to be a saying… People dreamed of building a bridge to Sicily, and it became something that never happened. My English friends would instead say ‘when hell freezes over’. *Un'espressione volgare*, but very much to the point.”
“Ah… I’m sure we can manage something, and this could be made presentable. Maybe change the beige to a pale violet?” she offered helpfully as she made it to the door first, holding it open. “The aura inside isn’t so bad.”
“You’ve said that several times, but I do not know what you mean?” He paused in looking around the entry, which had an open foyer exposing the two floors above and led out to the atrium beyond. “What is ‘aura’? I do not think I know the word as you mean it.”
“Aura is… Hmm…” Wicama paused thoughtfully and gestured at the atrium. The interior was in better shape than the grounds, and the architect had done something clever. Not yet noon, a bevel along the top edge filled the space with sunlight. “Have you ever walked along a beach and wanted to save a shell? When you are there, that is aura… When you take the shell home and think of the beach, that is aura, but… less focused. Diminished. You sense the beach because of the shell, but you are not at the beach. Places can have aura, but it is more than character. If you move through a place and find yourself experiencing it? That is aura.”
“Mhm! *lodevole!* I like this idea very much. It would be right at home in the Vatican. Not everyone understands a space can move the spirit, or lend power to a message.” He nodded thoughtfully as he cast his eye about the open space. “With the right advice, perhaps we can lead others to these halls.”
“Perhaps. If you tour the Palace, I hope you’ll allow me to show you about? A lot of the real gems are hidden from the public.” She watched as he wandered toward the double-helixed stairways bordering the room. Those were definitely Helkam; walking up one side without meeting someone coming down the other was an interesting experience… once. After that, they could be an absolute nuisance. Spotting the elevators, she called him back. “The nice thing is this place is inexpensive! That will pad out your funds for a good remodel.”
Wicama quietly thanked the Goddesses that the builder’s had the good sense to install normal Shil’vati-style elevators. The sides were open, granting a wide view out over the atrium. The grounds were terraced to create a small park; that could make the underground space bearable, and the plans made them seem spacious enough. Not to everyone’s taste, but pretty. “I feel bad for asking, but can you afford the building? If the price of the first two bothered you, we can find others.”
“I would not hear of it! Thank you for your concern, but we are economical with our funds, and were sent with a generous sum. This is an important venture to everyone involved,” Barcio clasped a hand over his chest, as he shook his head. “I can not thank you enough for your help! You have surely spared me weeks, and I might not have found something half so suitable. As it is, the grounds are enough to gain me converts. Father Roscio and Pastor Weber will surely plant a vineyard before the inside is half done!”
“It’s not a problem. I have plenty of time,” she replied, dismissing the matter as inconsequential. “I work at the Palace, but with the Court away and my daughter at school, I’m a bit at loose ends just now. At the very least, I insist on helping you through the paperwork. I wouldn’t put it past some realty clerks to try and overcharge you… Someone from outside Shil, that is. I’ll ensure they stick to the listing.”
“To someone not from Shil… or someone who is not Shil’vati, perhaps?” His head canted slightly to one side, but he smiled as he said it. “*Certamente!* I would not dream of preventing you, though Rabbi Kleinbaum will be bitterly disappointed she has nothing to moan about.”
“I hope you won't take this badly, as I’ve only met one Human.” Wicama gave him a smile. She was long past girlish uncertainty, and the Navy had taught her a generous measure of professional poise to go with her skills as a markswoman. “You aren’t what I expected.”
“You know the professore, then?” He sucked in a breath and pursed his lips. “I am still deciding what sort of man he is.”
“No, actually, I know another Human but I’ve not… I have not… met Professor Warrick.”
“So. You mean that I am not *un barbaro*? I am here to make sure that we are seen as something more than savage warriors, *capisci*?” He studied her expectantly. “While the Imperium is doing good work on Earth, some still live in want. The Imperium provides enough for all to survive, but not all live in plenty. We need to present ourselves well.”
”That seems like a very secular outlook.” She offered, as they rode up to the third floor. Barcio asked for an explanation of the word, and by the time they’d made their way through the first offices he had the idea.
“My church has not always troubled itself with such things, but our holy father is greatly concerned with such inequalities. He takes it upon himself to address such matters with the Governess, when their time allows.”
“Your church has a good relationship with her?”
“È straordinario! The Governess adores our food, and while she was adamant about taking quarters in the Vatican, she has taken pains not to disturb us.” He shrugged dismissively. “*Cosa sai fare?* It seemed a small price, and we have endured far worse.”
“I used to hear terrible stories about red zones on Earth, though the Humans I’ve met don't seem the sort. It is good that your… pulp?” She tried the word and was rewarded with kind laughter and a gentle correction. “It is good that your pope concerns himself with the full welfare of the people and works with your governess. Our prelates share the same concerns.”
“I thought the Empress was the head of your church? Now, I find you have many…” he groped for a word, frowning, and gave up. “*Questo accento è una prova di fede!* ‘Denominations’ is not the right word, but she is the one revered, yes?”
“Of course! The Empress has to show all of our virtues and none of our faults, but that’s part of her role. To favor any divinity over the others could cause divisions. She has her personal preferences, of course, but never lets them be known.” Wicama explained carefully. “It would be in poor taste.”
“And poor politics, I think?” Santino gave her a long look. At his height it was difficult, but he managed. “This makes sense to me now, that the Imperium leaves matters of faith alone. *Una benedizione inaspettata.*”
Despite the serious topic, his fervent reply brought a smile back to her lips. “It seems your pope considers politics as well as economics.”
“People will always defend economic theories which assume that growth will inevitably succeed in bringing about greater justice. This has never been confirmed by the facts, and expresses a crude trust in the goodness of those wielding economic power and the sacralized workings of the prevailing economic system.” He said, stopping to clasp a hand over his cross. “Meanwhile, the excluded are still waiting.”
“That doesn't sound like scripture.” She offered cautiously, as they made their way into a wider suite of offices on the second floor.
“*Esattamente.* The words of Pope Francis, a good and blessed man who appointed me to my position. His successor, his holiness John Paul the Third, is much of the same mind,” Santino said quietly. “Our savior washed the feet of others and urged all to do the same. The hardest step is to be involved. To work together for change, as well as to pray. That is why I am here.
“*I pigri di cuore trovano sempre una scusa* Some Humans, they are yet angry with the Imperium. Now they have enough, they are bitter not to have plenty. For some there is never enough - the true poverty lies within their hearts,” Santino said a bit testily. “Our faith teaches us to find salvation in eternal life, but others? *Pigrizia!* They see it as an excuse from taking agency in themselves. Jesus washed the feet of others - he did not lay down and wait for someone to wash his!”
Wicama turned the unfamiliar metaphor over in her mind but decided she had the sense of it. “Sham teaches us that helping our families and one another is the same as helping ourselves. ‘The rising tide bares us all from the reefs’.” It was a matter of faith… but that was why it was faith in the first place. On the whole, it seemed like a mature perspective that explained the changes she’d seen in Prince Adam over the years. “You’re here to meet with others, but this seems as much about knowing yourselves.”
“*Sì, non è una brutta cosa avere umiltà davanti a Dio.* Human beings, while we are capable of the worst, we are also capable of choosing the good. Of rising up to make a new start. We are entering the galaxy.” He gestured out the window at the world beyond. “If not now… when?”
_ _ _ “So, when are you going to explain this masterpiece you four have been cooking up?” Marin asked. Sammi and Sam were barely awake but the twins had already arrived, bright-eyed and enthusiastic, and Marin cursed the resilience of youth. The room was acceptably warm, but Ayen had complained about the cold and used the excuse to slip back into bed. She was considering her options for joining him.
Somewhere, somehow, Sammi had found their rabbit pajamas again. “Sam, explain it to her? You do it better.” Sammi yawned, but Marin suspected it was an act. Once something got their attention, sleep was usually an afterthought.
“What, now?” Sam had barely stumbled into the room and blinked. Bleary-eyed and barely awake, he looked like he’d been ambushed, which was exactly the case.
“Pllllllleeeease…?” They sat back pulling the ears, giving their best Roger Rabbit impression. Luminous green eyes peered out at Sam, imploringly.
“Alright… I need coffee, but fine.” Sam trudged over to the kitchenette and poked listlessly at the instant coffee. It was getting perilously low, but Marin was sure he’d brought more on the ship. Eventually Sam gestured at the K’herbhal sisters with his mug. “So the girls want to create an artificial topological soliton. It's like a black hole, except where it isn't… It's sort of a kink in space-time.”
“Made you say kink!” Sammi grinned impishly and the girls blushed. Marin shook her head but paid attention. It felt far too early after another late night, but once everyone was up you had to hang on for whatever came next.
“So, what's that got to do with this… hole you want to use for power?” Marin raised her voice just enough to drag the conversation back on track.
“It’s more like a side effect. If it cuts the right angle, it goes into a realm of space-time we can tap for power. Think of it as an obverse of an energy drain, so it's like a white hole.”
“Let me guess.” Marin shook her head and grinned, holding up a hand to forestall the inevitable. “Except where it isn’t?”
“Ummm… pretty much.” Sam grumbled, blowing at his coffee. Marin glanced back at the twins. With Sam busy, the twins had gravitated to either side of Sammi. There was room left on the couch, and she wandered over to settle in beside one of them.
The Sams had been complaining for years about a lack of ‘focal power’ for their mass compression technologies, and while a rubber duck inside a diamond was impressive, they’d wanted to do something more - a lot more. She suspected if the twins were providing the means, then they already had something about to surface from the depths of their imaginations. Over the years she’d learned to pick a bit, rather than take their answers at straight value. “And if things don’t cut at the right angle? You remember how long it took to get rid of the Navy, when you started talking about making black holes?”
“It's not our fault they didn’t understand,” Sammi said defensively, crossing their arms and pouting at her before the rabbit ears fell over their face.
“Who didn’t understand what?” Akeimei yawned at the door. She cast a wink her way before wrapping her arms around Sam and gave him a quick hug. “What did I miss?”
“Umm… a parallel universe, if the math is right,” Sam mumbled from the depths of his coffee cup.
“What? Like identical versions of us?” Marin watched Akimei’s nose wrinkled at the smell before she slipped away from Sam. Slipped down beside her, they rubbed shoulders a moment. “Tell me, is there one where I get more sleep?”
“More or less identical… though it's not like you need to go into a parallel universe for that sort of thing. There’s already a ‘you’ out there somewhere right now, to say nothing of past and future ‘you’.” Sam scratched his cheek idly for a moment “It's just the math. The universe is so vast that there are exact physical cosmic twins of us out there somewhere, not to mention even more almost-twins.”
“Sam’s right!” Sammi perked up excitedly, bouncing on the sofa. “Then there are quantum cosmic twins - which gets weird because particles exist in multiple states and you’d sort of overlap… but the easiest one is probably just another us elsewhere in the universe right now! That's sort of the point where the universe is bigger than you can imagine!”
“So exactly the same… or almost.” One of the twins giggled. “Just like us!”
“Pretty much,” Sam nodded, slowly emerging from the depths of his coffee. “Another you out there on another Shil, or another me on a whole Earth, even - just a little bit different.”
“What? Like an Earth that never met the Imperium?” Marin canted her head, tossing out the obvious. It was hard to remember her life before, and she didn’t want to contemplate the alternative.
“Oh, I don't like that idea.” One of the twins stuck out her lip. “We want to come to Earth!”
“Yeah,” her sister nodded, though she suddenly looked glum. “I don’t know if Professor Warrick would mind though. He’d be with his wife and daughter, there.”
“Oh…” her sister's face crumpled. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Well, don’t…” Sammi hugged them both a moment, though they held the first twin a bit tighter. “The point is, somewhere he’s with them right now!”
“Wow, I guess so.” she brightened. “Just imagine! A whole Earth that never met the Shil’vati!”
“I wouldn’t worry, sis.” her twin nodded. “I think Professor Warrick is pretty happy right now.”
_ _ _
“I am not happy about this!” Tom glared at his omni-pad before tossing it down in frustration.
Miv looked up at her husband.
“It’s an honor!” She tucked her chin in and gave him a long, considered look, “What is it that’s bothering you - really? It wasn't Monsignor Barcio. Are you certain this isn't the same sort of thing?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” he growled, looking away like a guilty child. “Alright, maybe… but this uniform is the silliest thing I’ve ever seen. I’ll look like a mushroom, and the hat only makes it worse!" Tom grimaced at the omni-pad accusingly, "They won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so now I’m on the rolls as a Warden Captain - whatever that is - and this ceremony is ridiculous!”
“The ceremony is traditional. Very symbolic... Besides, they don't make wardens out of anyone below the rank of captain - I looked it up. You were one before, so it's appropriate to make you one instead of a Warden Major or Warden Colonel.” She smiled at him serenely. “Surely, it can’t be the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
He turned to wag a finger her way. “I’ll take that bet!”
“Worse than our wedding reception…?” She crooned, teasing him. “Or maybe pre-term night? I swear by the Goddess no one will pinch your ass, except for Lea and I.”
“Fine…” Her smile grew wider as he grumbled, but he was calming down already and there wasn't heat in it. Still, he stubbornly clung on to the point a while longer. "It’s in my top five.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive, husband. Now then, I have meetings all afternoon, so why don't you finish reviewing the menu? You’ll feel better when all this is over and you can go back to cooking, chess, or starting that eeeyiy club… You might even give Ce’lani a call or message her?” She gathered her coat and smiled demurely, though it harbored nothing innocent. “If I’m not here you’ll have perfect privacy… Just don't promise anything you wouldn't promise to me.”
“It’s iai-do…” Tom groused, but he was already picking up his omni-pad.
She blew him a kiss and made her way toward the commons. Tom would probably stew a while, but he’d make the call.
There would be time to meet with Ce’lani on the common, before she had to come home for dinner.
_ _ _
Tom looked over the banquet menu as if it might reach out and bite him. The words stared up at him with perfect innocence.
Appetizer: Fruit and Cheese Platter - Slices of various cheeses and fruits on a platter providing a delicate mix of sweet, tangy and creamy to invigorate the dining experience. Serve with a selection of sweet and semi-sweet wines.
Soup: Choice of Tomato or French Onion Soup - Served with a piece of baguette and cheese.
Salad: Strawberry Salad with Poppy Seed Dressing -- an assortment of greens and fruit with a balsamic grain dressing to cleanse the palate.
Entree: Cornish Pasty - This herb-infused meat and pastry dish provides a counterpoint to the tangy taste of the salad and soup. Served with a creamy buttered mashed potato (a vegetable, humanely prepared!) with chives (also a vegetable). Served with a selection of wines or ales.
Dessert: Chef’s Sorbet Surprise - A sweet treat complemented by a palate cleanser, ending the meal on a piquant note.
His last call with Bherdin had been a trial and a half. Omni-pads were the definition of ‘high fidelity’, and hearing the little Shil’vati hyperventilate for ten minutes over the plan was pointless. At least Melondi had easier going with Vedeem on her side... one way or another this was happening.
As a final consolation, he relented on wearing matching suits. Bherdin frequently bemoaned Tom’s 'lamentable' fashion sense, and he perked up at that, promising to get him some appropriate formalwear for the occasion.
Privately, he suspected his Shil’vati friend was looking for a convenient alibi if a riot started.
In fairness, it probably wasn't a bad idea.
“Too late to use it myself…” he muttered. It wasn’t quite noon, and Miv was probably right. Instead of Chess Club or starting Iai-do practice or just cooking out at Human Food, he was stuck here at home. Miv’s place was bigger, but most of his stuff was still in boxes; it left him listless and climbing the walls. If this worked, at least things could get back to normal.
…Mostly normal…
He flipped back to the picture of the Warden uniform on his omni-pad. It was bad enough, but the hat made the whole thing look like a blue toadstool in silver filigree.
He swiped the picture away like an act of revenge, but didn’t toss the pad back on the table.
…Miv was right... and I promised to call Ce’lani…
Tom centered himself, pulling up the number. The universe was always in motion and a good Taoist accepted their part in what came. That was the lesson of ‘the Vinegar Tasters’, and it held true… The painting showed three men standing around a vat of vinegar. Each has dipped his finger into the vinegar and tasted it. The expression on each man's face showed his individual reaction.
The painting was an allegory for Confucius, Buddha, and Lao-tse. Confucius wore a sour look on his face. He believed life was out of harmony with the universe. As the second figure in the painting, Buddha had a bitter expression. Like the vinegar, life was painful and filled with attachments and desires that led to suffering. The last man, Lao-tse, was smiling at the taste. To him, harmony existed naturally and could be found by anyone at any time in any experience.
He thought about his buddy Dave. The old Marine would probably shake his head and tell him to ‘embrace the suck.’ It pretty much boiled down to the same thing.
Not that he was against calling. Miv and Lea had practically taken turns urging him on and giving their views on why it was a good idea. They hadn't harped about it, but he knew which way the wind was blowing. And Ce’lani’s message had been short, sweet in the literal sense, and the sound file she’d offered up had been…
…Pretty nice, really…
If he still said no, or decided he didn't like where this was going, they’d back his choice, of course. He didn't have a doubt in his mind… But with everything else in his life turned upside down, calling Ce’lani seemed like a calm in the eye of a storm.
…It's just a phone call. Leave the chaos at the gate…
He settled down on the couch to check his messages before giving her a call. It was nearly lunch…
2023.06.01 21:00 GalaxiGazer You never existed
To my dear and loving Prince Charming,
Oh, my future love of my life! Where are you? Could you be the man who takes his daily walk by my office, listening intently to Howard Stern podcasts while tuning out the rest of the world? Were you that cashier who greeted me at the self-checkout at my neighborhood Safeway, internally battling your desire to stare deeply into my eyes as you stacked the plastic bags onto the racks and locked up the cash drawer? Or perhaps you came to me as someone who wanted a quote for his new Chevy Silverado 2500 4WD, and wanted to discuss the differences between having full coverage versus just basic liability? Did I pass by you when I was at the gym the other day, as you headed outside to the pool while I made a beeline for the hot tub? Oh, my, you could by anyone, anywhere! I curse the universe everyday for placing you in my path and yet I'm so busy wrapped up in my own little world that I don't notice you!
You've been on my mind since I was young, the very first time that Ariel was able to get back her human legs and finally marry her prince. Oh, how wonderful true love must be, being willing to conquer all! After they unlocked from their kiss, they sailed on and lived happily ever after. Where were you? I looked for you in each school I had attended, during church nearly every Sunday morning, as well as during youth group on Friday nights. I had written you letters expressing my desire for you, dreaming about the way you would look at me at the very blessed moment when we would meet for the very first time. As I got older, I dreamt about our wedding day, the picture perfect life that you and I would have together, and how much happier I would be being with you than without you.
Surely, the universe must want me to keep looking for you! You can only find me if I make sure that I write that perfect bio, otherwise you will not recognize me. You are worth my taking 4,228,355 selfies for that perfect picture or you will just pass me by. Yes, you may have ghosted me and blocked me as you gave your ex another chance, but I know that you'll be back for me someday. I just need to try harder to get your attention. Maybe after losing some weight, you might see me as more than a friend to you. Or I just need to make sure that your divorce is final before we can start our new life together. Please forgive me, maybe I'm being too impatient as I should remain on the sidelines, trusting you that one day when you get over the one who got away, then you'll be ready to see how things go with me. Maybe I shouldn't be so selfish but instead allow you to cry on my shoulder as you grieve over the one woman you loved so much; once you finish drying your tears, then you'll see that the right woman was literally in front of you this whole time.
Please forgive me, as my efforts towards finding you have amounted to nothing but a history of failure. If you want to know where I am, I'm currently in hiding in my own crafted war room, trying to devise another tactic that will FOR SURE get you to notice me this time. I mean, you are out there, but the responsibility of locating you, selling myself to you and eventually winning you over to me falls exclusively on me. There's nothing that you need to do. Yes, keep longing for the one who got away. I want you to make every effort you can towards shielding your heart away from me, because you know how much I love a challenge. Provide for me 3,221,986 different versions of "I'm not just ready for a relationship" so that way I can keep biting your ankles, doing everything I can on my end to fully crack your code. I want your life to remain busy and dysfunctional so you can be somewhat truthful as you cancel yet another date with me because you really were too busy. How else would I learn to reschedule things with you and truly value our time together unless I know that spending time with you is not guaranteed? I also need to make sure that you're on the right app. Who knows ... maybe THAT is what is keeping us apart!! Could it be that maybe the secret to unlocking you entering my life is simply deciding between Bumble and Tinder, but ultimately switching to Hinge? Of course, you're already there waiting for me! It's just me, your obvious Dimwitted Damsel in Distress, who just needs to download that app to my phone and surely ... SURELY ... we'll both be one step closer to discovering our own happily ever after.
Yeah, do you really think that I'm talking to you, Prince Charming? The answer is no. I'm not talking to a real person, a real man who exists in this world, whose heart has GalaxiGazer boldly tattooed on it. I'm actually talking to a fantasy, a dream, an idea that someone else had cooked up in their mind and served it to me on a silver platter with a smile. I'm talking to a concept that many people have spent money, time, and talent crafting and developing. I'm talking to the source behind many successful marketing schemes that the C-Suite executives from Bumble, Hinge, Tinder, Zoosk, Match, E-harmony, Coffee Meets Bagel, Disney, Hollywood, and Hallmark have already discovered.
You don't exist.
You never did.
You never will.
There are those out there who hold out hope on your behalf, telling me not to give up on love and that "Mr. Right is just right around the corner". They will waste no time giving me fashion, beauty, health, and sex tips trying to turn the many villains out there into my hero in order to keep your legend alive. While I appreciate their efforts, they have yet to understand that telling me to keep chasing you is like seeing a rainbow during a rainstorm and believing that there's a pot o' gold at the end. Well, you don't see me getting into my car, driving towards this rainbow, and actually expecting to see it, do you? No. I've seen many rainbows (even multiples) with no pot o' gold at the end. Just goes to show.
While I'm not discouraging anyone from chasing after you, believing in you, and eventually finding you, I have chosen to confront you and see through you to understand that you don't exist. You're not real. And you know what? It's okay. I liken this to finally outgrowing those fairy tales that suited me well in childhood, but I'm grown up enough to know that's not real. Neither is Santa. Neither is the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny. But that's what life is about. Living and learning.
So I bid you farewell, O Prince.
~ Me
submitted by GalaxiGazer to UnsentLetters [link] [comments]
Oh, my future love of my life! Where are you? Could you be the man who takes his daily walk by my office, listening intently to Howard Stern podcasts while tuning out the rest of the world? Were you that cashier who greeted me at the self-checkout at my neighborhood Safeway, internally battling your desire to stare deeply into my eyes as you stacked the plastic bags onto the racks and locked up the cash drawer? Or perhaps you came to me as someone who wanted a quote for his new Chevy Silverado 2500 4WD, and wanted to discuss the differences between having full coverage versus just basic liability? Did I pass by you when I was at the gym the other day, as you headed outside to the pool while I made a beeline for the hot tub? Oh, my, you could by anyone, anywhere! I curse the universe everyday for placing you in my path and yet I'm so busy wrapped up in my own little world that I don't notice you!
You've been on my mind since I was young, the very first time that Ariel was able to get back her human legs and finally marry her prince. Oh, how wonderful true love must be, being willing to conquer all! After they unlocked from their kiss, they sailed on and lived happily ever after. Where were you? I looked for you in each school I had attended, during church nearly every Sunday morning, as well as during youth group on Friday nights. I had written you letters expressing my desire for you, dreaming about the way you would look at me at the very blessed moment when we would meet for the very first time. As I got older, I dreamt about our wedding day, the picture perfect life that you and I would have together, and how much happier I would be being with you than without you.
Surely, the universe must want me to keep looking for you! You can only find me if I make sure that I write that perfect bio, otherwise you will not recognize me. You are worth my taking 4,228,355 selfies for that perfect picture or you will just pass me by. Yes, you may have ghosted me and blocked me as you gave your ex another chance, but I know that you'll be back for me someday. I just need to try harder to get your attention. Maybe after losing some weight, you might see me as more than a friend to you. Or I just need to make sure that your divorce is final before we can start our new life together. Please forgive me, maybe I'm being too impatient as I should remain on the sidelines, trusting you that one day when you get over the one who got away, then you'll be ready to see how things go with me. Maybe I shouldn't be so selfish but instead allow you to cry on my shoulder as you grieve over the one woman you loved so much; once you finish drying your tears, then you'll see that the right woman was literally in front of you this whole time.
Please forgive me, as my efforts towards finding you have amounted to nothing but a history of failure. If you want to know where I am, I'm currently in hiding in my own crafted war room, trying to devise another tactic that will FOR SURE get you to notice me this time. I mean, you are out there, but the responsibility of locating you, selling myself to you and eventually winning you over to me falls exclusively on me. There's nothing that you need to do. Yes, keep longing for the one who got away. I want you to make every effort you can towards shielding your heart away from me, because you know how much I love a challenge. Provide for me 3,221,986 different versions of "I'm not just ready for a relationship" so that way I can keep biting your ankles, doing everything I can on my end to fully crack your code. I want your life to remain busy and dysfunctional so you can be somewhat truthful as you cancel yet another date with me because you really were too busy. How else would I learn to reschedule things with you and truly value our time together unless I know that spending time with you is not guaranteed? I also need to make sure that you're on the right app. Who knows ... maybe THAT is what is keeping us apart!! Could it be that maybe the secret to unlocking you entering my life is simply deciding between Bumble and Tinder, but ultimately switching to Hinge? Of course, you're already there waiting for me! It's just me, your obvious Dimwitted Damsel in Distress, who just needs to download that app to my phone and surely ... SURELY ... we'll both be one step closer to discovering our own happily ever after.
Yeah, do you really think that I'm talking to you, Prince Charming? The answer is no. I'm not talking to a real person, a real man who exists in this world, whose heart has GalaxiGazer boldly tattooed on it. I'm actually talking to a fantasy, a dream, an idea that someone else had cooked up in their mind and served it to me on a silver platter with a smile. I'm talking to a concept that many people have spent money, time, and talent crafting and developing. I'm talking to the source behind many successful marketing schemes that the C-Suite executives from Bumble, Hinge, Tinder, Zoosk, Match, E-harmony, Coffee Meets Bagel, Disney, Hollywood, and Hallmark have already discovered.
You don't exist.
You never did.
You never will.
There are those out there who hold out hope on your behalf, telling me not to give up on love and that "Mr. Right is just right around the corner". They will waste no time giving me fashion, beauty, health, and sex tips trying to turn the many villains out there into my hero in order to keep your legend alive. While I appreciate their efforts, they have yet to understand that telling me to keep chasing you is like seeing a rainbow during a rainstorm and believing that there's a pot o' gold at the end. Well, you don't see me getting into my car, driving towards this rainbow, and actually expecting to see it, do you? No. I've seen many rainbows (even multiples) with no pot o' gold at the end. Just goes to show.
While I'm not discouraging anyone from chasing after you, believing in you, and eventually finding you, I have chosen to confront you and see through you to understand that you don't exist. You're not real. And you know what? It's okay. I liken this to finally outgrowing those fairy tales that suited me well in childhood, but I'm grown up enough to know that's not real. Neither is Santa. Neither is the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny. But that's what life is about. Living and learning.
So I bid you farewell, O Prince.
~ Me
2023.06.01 14:12 sonofabutch No game today, so let's remember a forgotten Yankee: Jackie Jensen, "The Golden Boy"
Jackie Jensen, "The Golden Boy", was a superstar athlete in the 1940s who seemed destined for greatness as the heir to Joe DiMaggio... only to be supplanted by a different golden boy, the great Mickey Mantle.
Jensen would eventually live up to the hype, but with the Red Sox -- but his career ended prematurely because, as baseball expanded to the west coast, his fear of flying made road games unbearable!
The Yankees between 1947 and 1964 were utterly dominant, winning 15 pennants and 10 World Series. And it wasn't just the major league team that was successful. The Yankees of this era were loaded up and down the system, from Rookie ball to their two Triple-A teams!
With such a loaded major league roster, the Yankees had many talented players stuck either on the end of the bench or in the minors who would eventually find an opportunity with other teams, including Bob Cerv, Vic Power, Gus Triandos, Lew Burdette, Jerry Lumpe, Bob Porterfield, and Bob Keegan, all named All-Stars with other teams after leaving the Yankees. Clint Courtney would be the 1952 A.L. Rookie of the Year runner-up after the Yankees traded him to the Browns, and Bill Virdon was the 1955 N.L. Rookie of the Year with the Cardinals (and then Yankee manager from 1974 to 1975!).
But the most talented player who just couldn't find the playing time in New York was Jack Eugene Jensen, born March 9, 1927, in San Francisco. His parents divorced when he was 5, and he grew up poor, his mother working six days a week, 12 hours a day. Jensen said the family moved 16 times between kindergarten and eighth grade -- "every time the rent came due."
After serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II, Jensen went to the University of California in 1946 on the G.I. Bill. There he became one of the most famous college players in the country, leading Cal to the Rose Bowl. In 1947, he was the starting fullback as well as the team's top defensive back, and in 1948, he rushed for 1,000 yards and was an All-American.
He also was a tremendous two-way baseball player, pitching and hitting for the Golden Bears in 1947 as the won the very first College World Series, beating a Yale team that had George H.W. Bush playing first base. In 1949, he was an All-American in baseball, too.
His blond hair, good looks, and athletic accomplishments earned him the nickname "The Golden Boy."
Halfway through his junior year, Jensen left Berkeley to turn pro. Jensen would later say he couldn't risk playing a career-ending injury playing for free while teams -- baseball and football -- were trying to sign him to big-money contracts.
At the end of the year, the Oaks sold his contract (and that of Billy Martin, another Northern California kid) to the Yankees.
That same year, Jensen married his high school sweetheart, Zoe Ann Olsen, an Olympic diver. (By age 18, she had won 14 national diving championships and a silver medal in the 1948 Olympics.) "Together they looked like a Nordic god and goddess," Sports Illustrated reported. Nicknamed "the sweethearts of sports," they were the Dansby Swanson and Mallory Pugh of their era. More than 1,000 people attended their wedding.
Jensen would start the 1950 season not in the minors but in the Bronx. He joined the Yankees in a time of flux. They though they'd won the 1949 World Series, the Yankees knew they had to make some changes, with 35-year-old Joe DiMaggio nearing the end of his career. And their heir apparent was not Mickey Mantle -- at the time an 18-year-old shortstop playing in the Class C league, the equivalent of A-ball today -- but the 23-year-old Jensen.
But Jensen disappointed, hitting just .171/.247/.300 in 70 at-bats, and only starting in 13 games. Watching from the bench most of the season, Jensen would later lament the lost year of development, saying he'd have been better off playing every day in the Pacific Coast League.
The Yankees won the pennant for a second straight year, and in the World Series he once again was left on the bench. His only action was as a pinch runner in Game 3 as the Yankees swept the Phillies. That "Moonlight Graham" appearance would be his only taste of the post-season in an 11-year career.
The following year would be DiMaggio's last, and Mantle's first. Jensen began the year as the Yankees' starting left fielder and proved he belonged, hitting .296/.371/.509 through the end of July... and then, shockingly, was demoted to Triple-A and replaced with previously forgotten Yankee Bob Cerv.
I can see why they called up Cerv -- the University of Nebraska stand-out was tearing up Triple-A, leading the American Association in batting average (.349), home runs (26), triples (21), RBIs (101), and total bases (261) -- but why demote Jensen, who had a 140 OPS+ in the majors? Maybe the Yankees felt the brash 23-year-old needed to be taken down a peg. In any event, Cerv hit just .214/.333/.250 in August and was sent back to Triple-A, but Jensen also was left down there. He hit .263/.344/.469 and was recalled after the Triple-A season ended, only getting into three games (he went 3-for-9).
Mantle, too, had started the season with the Yankees, and after hitting .260/.341/.423 through the middle of July, was sent down to Triple-A. But he hit .361/.445/.651 in 166 at-bats, and unlike Jensen was back in the bigs by August 24. He would play pretty much every game the rest of the season, hitting .284/.370/.495 in 95 at-bats.
The torch had clearly been passed -- Jensen was no longer the heir apparent to DiMaggio. In the World Series that year, Mantle was the starting right fielder, and Jensen wasn't even on the post-season roster.
Jensen was so disappointed with how the Yankees had treated him in 1951 that he talked to the San Francisco 49ers about switching to pro football, but ultimately decided to stick with baseball.
Never shy about what he said to reporters, Jensen told The Sporting News on October 24, 1951:
Sportswriters spent the off-season speculating whether DiMaggio would retire, and if he did, whether Jensen or Mantle would take over as the center fielder, as there were still concerns that Mantle, who had hurt his knee in the 1951 World Series, wouldn't be fully recovered by the start of the season.
On Opening Day, April 16, 1952, it was Jackie Jensen in center and Mickey Mantle in right. Jensen went 0-for-5 with a GIDP; Mantle, 3-for-4 with a double, a walk, and a stolen base! Seven games into the season, Jensen was 2-for-17 (.118) and found himself on the bench. He'd never play for the Yankees again. On May 3, the Golden Boy was traded to the Washington Senators along with Spec Shea, Jerry Snyder, and Archie Wilson in exchange for Irv Noren and Tom Upton.
In two years with the Senators, Jensen hit an impressive .276/.359/.407 (112 OPS+), but the team was terrible, and Jensen wasn't happy. Still just 26 years old, he later said he had almost quit after the 1953 season... particularly after a harrowing flight to Japan for a series of exhibition games with a squad of All-Stars that included Yankees Yogi Berra, Eddie Lopat, and Billy Martin. That experience gave Jensen a lifelong fear of flying, a phobia that became so intense eventually he could only fly with the help of sleeping pills... and a hypnotist!
He might have quit if not for the trade on December 9, 1953, that sent him to the Boston Red Sox for pitcher Mickey McDermott and outfielder Tom Umphlett. He was homesick, he hated flying, and he now had two little kids at home. Red Sox general manager Joe Cronin convinced Jensen to come to the Red Sox, telling him that Fenway Park was tailor made for his swing. Cronin was right: Jensen was a career .279/.369/.460 hitter, but .298/.400/.514 at Fenway.
It was in Boston that Jensen finally lived up to the hype, becoming a two-time All-Star and winning the A.L. MVP Award in 1958 and a Gold Glove in 1959. During his seven seasons in Boston, he hit .282/.374/.478 in 4,519 plate appearances. In his MVP season, Jensen hit .286/.396/.535 (148 OPS+) with 31 doubles, 35 home runs, and a league-leading 122 RBIs. During his peak with the Red Sox, 1954 to 1959, Jensen's average season was .285/.378/.490 (127 OPS+) with 28 doubles, 26 home runs, 111 RBIs, 14 stolen bases, and 3.6 bWAR. During those six seasons, no one in the American League -- not Mickey Mantle, not Ted Williams, not Al Kaline -- had more runs batted in than Jackie Jensen.
Of course, Mantle was the far better player -- even in Jensen's MVP season, Mantle had more runs, hits, home runs, walks, and a 188 OPS+ -- but Jensen's 127 OPS+ between 1954 and 1959 would have been an upgrade over the aging Hank Bauer's 110 OPS+ in right or the left field merry-go-round of Norm Siebern (113 OPS+), Irv Noren (107 OPS+), Enos Slaughter (103 OPS+), and previously forgotten Yankee Hector Lopez (101 OPS+). Casey Stengel would later say the Jensen trade was the worst one the Yankees had made while he was manager.
Despite his success, Jensen was sometimes booed by the Boston fans, just as they sometimes booed Ted Williams. There even was an article in Sport magazine, "What Do They Want From Jackie Jensen?", taking Red Sox fans to task for their unreasonably high demands from the Golden Boy. In 1956, in a game at Fenway Park against the Yankees, the hometown fans were razzing Jensen so much that teammates had to restrain him from going into the stands after a fan. Later that same game, Williams misplayed a wind-blown fly ball from Mantle, and the fans booed lustily. The very next play, Williams made a leaping catch at the scoreboard to rob Yogi Berra of a double. But Williams, still furious, spit into the crowd. He was later fined $5,000.
And Jackie was unhappy to be away from home. He and Zoe Ann had bought a house near Lake Tahoe, where they could both ski and golf year-round, as well as hit the casinos. They also had a home in Oakland, and a restaurant there, and each year Jensen hosted a pro-am golf tournament. But the marriage was struggling. Zoe Ann, once nationally known for her Olympic exploits, was frustrated to be a stay-at-home mom in the shadow of her famous husband, and Jackie became angry if she engaged in her favorite outdoor hobbies, suspecting there were men around.
Jensen's fear of flying also had become even more intense. Sometimes he was so drugged up that he had to be carried on and off the plane, fueling rumors that he was a drunk. Other times he took trains or even drove while his teammates flew.
Once again Jensen was talking about retirement, and in Spring Training 1957, the Red Sox allowed him to train with the San Francisco Seals, Boston's Triple-A team, rather than having to go to Florida. But he was still miserable. That year, he told Sports Illustrated:
After leaving baseball, Jensen invested in real estate and a golf course, but lost most of his money. He then got a job working for a Lake Tahoe casino, was a national spokesman for Camel cigarettes, Wonder Bread, and Gillette, and even tried selling cars. Ironically, Jackie found himself on the road almost as much as he had been as a ballplayer. In 1963, he and Zoe Ann divorced, remarried, and then divorced again.
In 1967, Jensen became a TV sportscaster, married his producer Katharine Cortesi, and eventually teamed up with Keith Jackson calling college football games for ABC, and was a college baseball coach, first at the University of Nevada-Reno and then at the University of California. He managed the Red Sox team in the New York Penn League in 1970. In 1977, Jackie and Katharine moved to Virginia and started a Christmas tree farm while he coached baseball at a military academy. About five years later, on July 14, 1982, he died of a heart attack at age 55.
You Don't Know Jack(ie):
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Jensen would eventually live up to the hype, but with the Red Sox -- but his career ended prematurely because, as baseball expanded to the west coast, his fear of flying made road games unbearable!
The Yankees between 1947 and 1964 were utterly dominant, winning 15 pennants and 10 World Series. And it wasn't just the major league team that was successful. The Yankees of this era were loaded up and down the system, from Rookie ball to their two Triple-A teams!
With such a loaded major league roster, the Yankees had many talented players stuck either on the end of the bench or in the minors who would eventually find an opportunity with other teams, including Bob Cerv, Vic Power, Gus Triandos, Lew Burdette, Jerry Lumpe, Bob Porterfield, and Bob Keegan, all named All-Stars with other teams after leaving the Yankees. Clint Courtney would be the 1952 A.L. Rookie of the Year runner-up after the Yankees traded him to the Browns, and Bill Virdon was the 1955 N.L. Rookie of the Year with the Cardinals (and then Yankee manager from 1974 to 1975!).
But the most talented player who just couldn't find the playing time in New York was Jack Eugene Jensen, born March 9, 1927, in San Francisco. His parents divorced when he was 5, and he grew up poor, his mother working six days a week, 12 hours a day. Jensen said the family moved 16 times between kindergarten and eighth grade -- "every time the rent came due."
After serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II, Jensen went to the University of California in 1946 on the G.I. Bill. There he became one of the most famous college players in the country, leading Cal to the Rose Bowl. In 1947, he was the starting fullback as well as the team's top defensive back, and in 1948, he rushed for 1,000 yards and was an All-American.
He also was a tremendous two-way baseball player, pitching and hitting for the Golden Bears in 1947 as the won the very first College World Series, beating a Yale team that had George H.W. Bush playing first base. In 1949, he was an All-American in baseball, too.
His blond hair, good looks, and athletic accomplishments earned him the nickname "The Golden Boy."
Halfway through his junior year, Jensen left Berkeley to turn pro. Jensen would later say he couldn't risk playing a career-ending injury playing for free while teams -- baseball and football -- were trying to sign him to big-money contracts.
"There was a money tree growing in my backyard. Why shouldn't I pluck off the dollars when I wanted to?"Jensen considered a number of offers, including from the Yankees, before signing a three-year, $75,000 contract with the Oakland Oaks of the Pacific Coast League. Jensen said he thought he'd face better competition in the Pacific Coast League, the top minor league of the era, than he would at the bottom of the Yankee farm system. He was right about it being more of a challenge -- he hit an unimpressive .261/.317/.394 in 510 plate appearances with the Oaks.
At the end of the year, the Oaks sold his contract (and that of Billy Martin, another Northern California kid) to the Yankees.
That same year, Jensen married his high school sweetheart, Zoe Ann Olsen, an Olympic diver. (By age 18, she had won 14 national diving championships and a silver medal in the 1948 Olympics.) "Together they looked like a Nordic god and goddess," Sports Illustrated reported. Nicknamed "the sweethearts of sports," they were the Dansby Swanson and Mallory Pugh of their era. More than 1,000 people attended their wedding.
Jensen would start the 1950 season not in the minors but in the Bronx. He joined the Yankees in a time of flux. They though they'd won the 1949 World Series, the Yankees knew they had to make some changes, with 35-year-old Joe DiMaggio nearing the end of his career. And their heir apparent was not Mickey Mantle -- at the time an 18-year-old shortstop playing in the Class C league, the equivalent of A-ball today -- but the 23-year-old Jensen.
But Jensen disappointed, hitting just .171/.247/.300 in 70 at-bats, and only starting in 13 games. Watching from the bench most of the season, Jensen would later lament the lost year of development, saying he'd have been better off playing every day in the Pacific Coast League.
The Yankees won the pennant for a second straight year, and in the World Series he once again was left on the bench. His only action was as a pinch runner in Game 3 as the Yankees swept the Phillies. That "Moonlight Graham" appearance would be his only taste of the post-season in an 11-year career.
The following year would be DiMaggio's last, and Mantle's first. Jensen began the year as the Yankees' starting left fielder and proved he belonged, hitting .296/.371/.509 through the end of July... and then, shockingly, was demoted to Triple-A and replaced with previously forgotten Yankee Bob Cerv.
I can see why they called up Cerv -- the University of Nebraska stand-out was tearing up Triple-A, leading the American Association in batting average (.349), home runs (26), triples (21), RBIs (101), and total bases (261) -- but why demote Jensen, who had a 140 OPS+ in the majors? Maybe the Yankees felt the brash 23-year-old needed to be taken down a peg. In any event, Cerv hit just .214/.333/.250 in August and was sent back to Triple-A, but Jensen also was left down there. He hit .263/.344/.469 and was recalled after the Triple-A season ended, only getting into three games (he went 3-for-9).
Mantle, too, had started the season with the Yankees, and after hitting .260/.341/.423 through the middle of July, was sent down to Triple-A. But he hit .361/.445/.651 in 166 at-bats, and unlike Jensen was back in the bigs by August 24. He would play pretty much every game the rest of the season, hitting .284/.370/.495 in 95 at-bats.
The torch had clearly been passed -- Jensen was no longer the heir apparent to DiMaggio. In the World Series that year, Mantle was the starting right fielder, and Jensen wasn't even on the post-season roster.
Jensen was so disappointed with how the Yankees had treated him in 1951 that he talked to the San Francisco 49ers about switching to pro football, but ultimately decided to stick with baseball.
Never shy about what he said to reporters, Jensen told The Sporting News on October 24, 1951:
"I felt so badly about the treatment that I received from the Yankees that, although I was in New York at the end of the season, I didn't feel like sticking around to even watch the club play in any of the World's Series games."Despite blasting his manager in the press, Jensen was still the property of the Yankees. That off-season, teams were circling, hoping to pry away the talented but disgruntled outfielder. There were newspaper reports of offers from the St. Louis Browns, the Detroit Tigers, the Philadelphia Athletics, the Washington Senators, the Cleveland Indians, and the Boston Red Sox -- with one rumor being Ted Williams to the Bronx in exchange for Jensen and several other players. (A Red Sox scout called the rumored deal "a lot of hogwash.")
"I do not feel the Yankees were justified in sending me to the minor leagues. When I was shipped to Kansas City, I was doing as good a job as any Yankee outfielder and better than some of them. I was hitting .296, which was ten points better than Hank Bauer and 30 points better than Joe DiMaggio, Gene Woodling and Mickey Mantle. Yet Casey Stengel didn't give me the chance I felt I deserved."
Sportswriters spent the off-season speculating whether DiMaggio would retire, and if he did, whether Jensen or Mantle would take over as the center fielder, as there were still concerns that Mantle, who had hurt his knee in the 1951 World Series, wouldn't be fully recovered by the start of the season.
On Opening Day, April 16, 1952, it was Jackie Jensen in center and Mickey Mantle in right. Jensen went 0-for-5 with a GIDP; Mantle, 3-for-4 with a double, a walk, and a stolen base! Seven games into the season, Jensen was 2-for-17 (.118) and found himself on the bench. He'd never play for the Yankees again. On May 3, the Golden Boy was traded to the Washington Senators along with Spec Shea, Jerry Snyder, and Archie Wilson in exchange for Irv Noren and Tom Upton.
In two years with the Senators, Jensen hit an impressive .276/.359/.407 (112 OPS+), but the team was terrible, and Jensen wasn't happy. Still just 26 years old, he later said he had almost quit after the 1953 season... particularly after a harrowing flight to Japan for a series of exhibition games with a squad of All-Stars that included Yankees Yogi Berra, Eddie Lopat, and Billy Martin. That experience gave Jensen a lifelong fear of flying, a phobia that became so intense eventually he could only fly with the help of sleeping pills... and a hypnotist!
He might have quit if not for the trade on December 9, 1953, that sent him to the Boston Red Sox for pitcher Mickey McDermott and outfielder Tom Umphlett. He was homesick, he hated flying, and he now had two little kids at home. Red Sox general manager Joe Cronin convinced Jensen to come to the Red Sox, telling him that Fenway Park was tailor made for his swing. Cronin was right: Jensen was a career .279/.369/.460 hitter, but .298/.400/.514 at Fenway.
It was in Boston that Jensen finally lived up to the hype, becoming a two-time All-Star and winning the A.L. MVP Award in 1958 and a Gold Glove in 1959. During his seven seasons in Boston, he hit .282/.374/.478 in 4,519 plate appearances. In his MVP season, Jensen hit .286/.396/.535 (148 OPS+) with 31 doubles, 35 home runs, and a league-leading 122 RBIs. During his peak with the Red Sox, 1954 to 1959, Jensen's average season was .285/.378/.490 (127 OPS+) with 28 doubles, 26 home runs, 111 RBIs, 14 stolen bases, and 3.6 bWAR. During those six seasons, no one in the American League -- not Mickey Mantle, not Ted Williams, not Al Kaline -- had more runs batted in than Jackie Jensen.
Of course, Mantle was the far better player -- even in Jensen's MVP season, Mantle had more runs, hits, home runs, walks, and a 188 OPS+ -- but Jensen's 127 OPS+ between 1954 and 1959 would have been an upgrade over the aging Hank Bauer's 110 OPS+ in right or the left field merry-go-round of Norm Siebern (113 OPS+), Irv Noren (107 OPS+), Enos Slaughter (103 OPS+), and previously forgotten Yankee Hector Lopez (101 OPS+). Casey Stengel would later say the Jensen trade was the worst one the Yankees had made while he was manager.
Despite his success, Jensen was sometimes booed by the Boston fans, just as they sometimes booed Ted Williams. There even was an article in Sport magazine, "What Do They Want From Jackie Jensen?", taking Red Sox fans to task for their unreasonably high demands from the Golden Boy. In 1956, in a game at Fenway Park against the Yankees, the hometown fans were razzing Jensen so much that teammates had to restrain him from going into the stands after a fan. Later that same game, Williams misplayed a wind-blown fly ball from Mantle, and the fans booed lustily. The very next play, Williams made a leaping catch at the scoreboard to rob Yogi Berra of a double. But Williams, still furious, spit into the crowd. He was later fined $5,000.
And Jackie was unhappy to be away from home. He and Zoe Ann had bought a house near Lake Tahoe, where they could both ski and golf year-round, as well as hit the casinos. They also had a home in Oakland, and a restaurant there, and each year Jensen hosted a pro-am golf tournament. But the marriage was struggling. Zoe Ann, once nationally known for her Olympic exploits, was frustrated to be a stay-at-home mom in the shadow of her famous husband, and Jackie became angry if she engaged in her favorite outdoor hobbies, suspecting there were men around.
Jensen's fear of flying also had become even more intense. Sometimes he was so drugged up that he had to be carried on and off the plane, fueling rumors that he was a drunk. Other times he took trains or even drove while his teammates flew.
Once again Jensen was talking about retirement, and in Spring Training 1957, the Red Sox allowed him to train with the San Francisco Seals, Boston's Triple-A team, rather than having to go to Florida. But he was still miserable. That year, he told Sports Illustrated:
“In baseball you get to the point where you don’t think you have a family. It just looks like I’m not built for this life like some ballplayers. You are always away from home and you’re lonesome, and as soon as I can, I intend to get out.”The 32-year-old Jensen announced his retirement after the 1959 season, and he spent 1960 home with Zoe Ann and their children and running his restaurant. But he returned in 1961. After hitting just .130 in April, Jensen took a train from Detroit home to Reno, determined to quit once again. After a week away, he rejoined the team and had six hits in his next 10 at-bats. By the end of the season he was at .263/.350/.392, and he quit again. This time for good.
After leaving baseball, Jensen invested in real estate and a golf course, but lost most of his money. He then got a job working for a Lake Tahoe casino, was a national spokesman for Camel cigarettes, Wonder Bread, and Gillette, and even tried selling cars. Ironically, Jackie found himself on the road almost as much as he had been as a ballplayer. In 1963, he and Zoe Ann divorced, remarried, and then divorced again.
In 1967, Jensen became a TV sportscaster, married his producer Katharine Cortesi, and eventually teamed up with Keith Jackson calling college football games for ABC, and was a college baseball coach, first at the University of Nevada-Reno and then at the University of California. He managed the Red Sox team in the New York Penn League in 1970. In 1977, Jackie and Katharine moved to Virginia and started a Christmas tree farm while he coached baseball at a military academy. About five years later, on July 14, 1982, he died of a heart attack at age 55.
You Don't Know Jack(ie):
- How good would Jackie Jensen have been as a Yankee? Maybe not great. He was a career .279/.369/.460 hitter, but just .238/.326/.398 at Yankee Stadium, which -- especially in that era -- was famously death on right-handed batters. Fenway Park was much more to his liking!
- Born in San Francisco in 1927, it's no surprise Jensen's favorite player as a kid was Joe DiMaggio, who made his debut with the San Francisco Seals when Jensen was a 5 years old. When Jensen made his major league debut, on April 18, 1950, DiMaggio went 3-for-6 with a triple in a 15-10 win over the Red Sox. Two weeks later, on May 3, Jensen made his first start, playing left field and batting second, and DiMaggio was in center and batting fourth.
- Jensen wore #36 at Cal. When he came up with the Yankees, he was first issued #40, then switched to #27, and finally to #25. (With the Senators, he wore #8, then #4; in Boston, he first wore #30 but primarily wore #4.) Currently, #40 is worn by Luis Severino. Other famous 40's include Chien-Ming Wang (2005-2009), Andy Hawkins (1989-1991), and Lindy McDaniel (1968-1973). #27 has been worn by Giancarlo Stanton since 2018; prior to him, it was worn by Austin Romine (2016-2017). It also was the number worn by Bob Wickman (1993-1996), Butch Wynegar (1982-1986), and Woodie Held (1954-1957). Gleyber Torres has worn #25 since 2018; it also was worn by Mark Teixeira (2009-2016), Jason Giambi (2002-2008), Joe Girardi (1996-1999), Jim Abbott (1993-1994), Tommy John (1979-1989), and Joe Pepitone (1962-1969).
- Jensen is one of six major leaguers to graduate from Oakland High School, but the only Yankee. Cal has sent 83 players to the majors, including twenty Yankees -- most notably, early 1990s pitcher Chuck Cary, 1930s infielder Lyn Lary, and 1990 A.L. ROY runner-up Kevin Maas.
- The Yankees during spring training in 1951 tinkered with the idea of using Jensen into a pitcher. Jensen had been a star pitcher at Cal, including pitching in the 1947 College World Series, and had pitched in a winter league that off-season. But he was bombed in a handful of spring training innings -- while crushing as a hitter -- and the Yankees decided to leave him in the outfield.
- College teammates said Jensen wasn't afraid of flying at Cal. His second wife Katharine said the phobia came from a near-miss experience on a flight early in his baseball career -- he looked out the window and saw another plane coming straight at him! The two planes managed to avoid each other, but he was never comfortable on a plane again.
- Billy Martin, who also had grown up in Northern California and was Jensen's teammate on both the Oakland Oaks and the Yankees, was merciless when it came to teasing Jensen about his fear of flying. In 1953, on a flight from Okinawa to Honshu to play a series of exhibition games in Japan, the plane ran into a bad storm and was bouncing pretty hard. Jensen, who wouldn't get on a plane without the help of tranquilizers, was blissfully sleeping through the turbulence. Martin found a lifejacket and put it on, then stood over Jensen and shouted "We're going down!"
- Arthur Ellen, a hypnotist that Jensen had used to try to cure his fear of flying, believed Jackie wasn't aerophobic at all. It was really a fear of losing his family. "Subconsciously, it developed as a good reason to leave the Red Sox and go home," the hypnotist said.
- Jensen is featured prominently in Norman Rockwell's famous 1957 painting, The Rookie. Jensen is the one seated on the bench tying his shoe in the middle of the painting. Standing behind him is Ted Williams, and sitting on the bench next to him is pitcher Frank Sullivan (#18). Wearing the catcher's mitt in the foreground is Sammy White, and the player with his hand over his mouth to the far right is Billy Goodman. Jensen, Sullivan, and White had gone to Rockwell's studio in Massachusetts to pose for the painting; the images of Williams and Goodman were based on photos. The shirtless player was one of Rockwell's assistants, and "the rookie" holding the suitcase was a local high school student!
- Boston sportswriters named Jensen the team's MVP in 1954, when he hit .276/.359/.472 with 25 home runs and 117 RBIs. I guess they were tired of giving the award to Ted Williams, who hit .345/.513/.635 that year, albeit in just 117 games as he had broken his collarbone in spring training. Williams didn't qualify for the batting title that year because he had only 386 at-bats... mostly due to his league-leading 136 walks. The rule was subsequently changed from at-bats to plate appearances.
- After Jensen was acquired by the Washington Senators, manager Bucky Harris -- who managed the Yankees when they won the 1947 World Series -- pulled him aside and told him he was the right fielder and he'd hit third. "No pep talk, no nothing, but he made it sound like I was the right fielder and third place hitter for a long time to come," Jensen later recalled. "It made me feel good." The 1950s Senators had a number of ex-Yankees and several of them told reporters that Harris was a much more low-key, hands-off manager than Casey Stengel, and Jensen agreed. "With Stengel it was always 'watch for that curve ball' or 'watch for that change up'," Jensen said. "Bucky leaves you on your own up there." But Jensen would later say Stengel was the smartest manager he'd ever had.
- Stengel obliquely mentioned Jensen in his famously long, rambling testimony before the Senate Anti-Trust and Monopoly Subcommittee on July 8, 1958. Asked about legislation that would exempt baseball from federal anti-trust laws, Stengel said about 7,000 words without really saying anything. The hearing was held the day after the All-Star Game -- the Stengel-managed A.L. All-Stars won, 4-3 -- and in the American League starting lineup were Jensen and two other ex-Yankees, Bob Cerv and Gus Triandos. Stengel was asked if the Yankees were going to continue to "monopolize" the World Series, and his confusing answer: "Well, I will tell you. I got a little concerned yesterday in the first three innings when I saw the three players I had gotten rid of [Jensen, Cerv, and Triandos] and I said when I lost nine what am I going to do? And when I had a couple of my players I thought so great of that did not do so good up to the sixth inning I was more confused but I finally had to go and call on a young man in Baltimore that we don't own and the Yankees don't own him and he is doing pretty well and I would actually have to to tell you that we are more the Greta Garbo-type now from success. We are being hated. I mean from the ownership and all we are being hated. Every sport that gets too great or one individual -- but if we made twenty-seven cents and it pays to have a winner at home why would you have a good winner in your park if you were an owner? That is the result of baseball. An owner gets most of the money at home, and it is up to him and his staff to do better or they ought to be discharged." After befuddling the committee with answers like that for 45 minutes, Stengel was excused and Mickey Mantle called upon. His opening statement: "My views are just about the same as Casey's."
- Casey Stengel later said Jensen plus Spec Shea, Jerry Snyder, and Archie Wilson to the Senators for Irv Noren and Tom Upton was the worst trade the Yankees made during his tenure. But in reality it was pretty much a wash for the Yankees. Jensen, in two seasons, would be worth 4.9 bWAR for the Senators before being traded. Shea, a right-handed pitcher who had been an All-Star with the Yankees as a rookie, pitched four years in Washington and was worth 2.9 bWAR. Snyder was a good-glove, no-hit infielder worth -0.1 bWAR in seven seasons with the Senators. (You must have a really good glove to last seven seasons with a 55 OPS+!) Wilson, at one point seen as a good prospect but now a 28-year-old minor league journeyman, only played 26 games in Washington before being traded. In exchange, the Yankees received the 27-year-old Irv Noren, an outfieldefirst baseman who played five years in New York and was an All-Star in 1954; he was worth 7.9 bWAR, making the trade essentially even by bWAR. (The other player the Yankees received, minor league infielder Tom Upton, never made it back to the bigs.) Prior to the 1957 season, Noren was traded to the Kansas City Athletics as part of a monster 13-player trade that included Clete Boyer, third baseman of the early 1960s dynasty!
- The two players Washington got from Boston for Jensen, Mickey McDermott and Tom Umphlett, were both future Yankees. McDermott was a left-handed pitcher whose father, Maurice McDermott, had played in the minors with Lou Gehrig. Mickey was just 25 years old at the time of the trade but had been in the majors for six seasons, going 48-34 with a 3.80 ERA (114 ERA+). In two years with the Senators, McDermott went 17-25 (but with a 3.58 ERA), then prior to the 1957 season was traded to the Yankees as part of a seven-player deal; he went 2-6 with a 4.24 ERA as a swingman, and closed out the Game 2 win in the 1956 World Series. After that one season in New York, he was part of the trade with the A's that brought back Clete Boyer.
- Umphlett, a 22-year-old infielder, was traded back to the Red Sox in 1955, and then the Red Sox traded him to the Yankees in 1962 for infielder Billy Gardner. He would spend 1962 and 1963 in Triple-A for the Yankees, then ended his career in the minors with the Minnesota Twins -- the team that had been the Senators until 1961.
- In 1956, the anthology television show Cavalcade of America had an episode called The Jackie Jensen Story. Jackie had a cameo as the adult version of himself, but the 30-minute episode was focused on Jackie's teenage years and the influence of his middle high school coach, a man named Ralph Kerchum who became a father figure. The coach was played by Ross Elliott, a Bronx native whose most memorable role might have been as the director in the Vitameatavegamin episode of I Love Lucy.
- Jensen's MVP in 1958 broke a string of four straight MVP awards for Yankees -- Yogi Berra in 1954 and 1955 followed by Mickey Mantle in 1956 and 1957. Nellie Fox of the White Sox won it in 1959, and then the Yankees won it four years in a row again -- Roger Maris in 1960 and 1961, Mantle in 1962, and Elston Howard in 1963. Then a long drought -- the next Yankee to win it would be Thurman Munson in 1976.
- Going by bWAR, Mantle should have won it a third straight year in 1958 -- his 8.7 bWAR led the league, followed by Frank Lary at 6.7 and Al Kaline at 6.5. Jensen's 4.9 was 10th that year. Of course, they didn't have bWAR back then!
- Jackie won a Gold Glove in 1959; it was just the third year of the award's existence, or he might have won more. "Right field in Boston is a bitch, the sun field, and few play it well," Ted Williams said. "Jackie Jensen was the best I saw at it." Jensen was renowned for his throwing arm -- he twice led the league in assists, and twice led the league in double plays as an outfielder. One Yankee scout said he had the best arm he'd seen since previously forgotten Yankee Bob Meusel, usually said to have the best cannon in baseball history until Roberto Clemente came along.
- Jensen was well known for his brashness, especially compared to Mantle's aw shucks attitude. Mantle, asked if he thought he could beat out Jensen to replace DiMaggio in center field, humbly replied that there were three positions in the outfield and he hoped to win any one of them. Jensen, on the other hand, vowed he'd "out-run, out-hit, and out-throw" Mantle, an arrogant answer that didn't go over well with teammates. Joe DiMaggio, asked what he thought of the duel for his old job, quipped that Mantle was "out-quoting" Jensen.
- When Mantle was asked what he thought about Jensen's quote, he replied: "I don't know what to make of that guy." Jensen would later say he was misquoted, but reports of his cockiness would follow him throughout his Yankee years. Later in life, Jensen said people mistook his shyness and anxiety for arrogance and rudeness.
- According to Sports Illustrated, Jensen is the only player to have played in the East-West football game, the Rose Bowl, the World Series, and the Major League All-Star Game. I'll take their word for it!
- As a freshman at Cal, the first time Jensen touched the ball -- on a punt return -- he ran it back for a 56-yard touchdown. Cal quarterback Charles Erb said they'd never seen anything like it. "He was all over the field, dodging and leaping over guys. The rest of us just stood there on the sidelines with our mouths open. Finally somebody said, 'Who in the hell is that guy?' "
- Jensen is one of two "forgotten" Yankees in the College Football Hall of Fame -- the other is 1960s catcher Jake Gibbs. (Other Yankees in the College Football Hall of Fame include John Elway, who was in the Yankee minor league system before joining the Denver Broncos, and Deion Sanders, who was on the Yankees in 1989 and 1990.) Jensen also is a member of the Cal Hall of Fame, the Bay Area Sports Hall of Fame, and... ugh... the Boston Red Sox Hall of Fame.
- Despite his speed -- Jensen led the league in triples in 1956 and in stolen bases in 1954, and was in the top five in stolen bases in six seasons -- Jackie also was prone to grounding into double plays, leading the league in 1954, 1956, and 1957. His 32 GIDPs in 1954 was the major league record until Boston's Jim Rice hit into 36 in 1984, which is still the single-season record. Rice also had 35 in 1985. Jensen's 32 is tied for third with four others. The most by a Yankee? Dave Winfield with 30 in 1983, which is tied for 14th.
- Jensen lost most of his baseball earnings through a series of bad investments. His ex-wife, former Olympian Zoe Ann, later became a blackjack dealer in Reno to pay the bills.
- Jensen had four appearances on the popular show Home Run Derby, and set a record for most home runs in one match when he defeated Ernie Banks, 14-11, in Episode 24. The 25 combined home runs also was a record. He took on Mickey Mantle in Episode 3, with Mantle winning, 9-2, then defeated Rocky Colavito, 3-2, in Episode 25. He rematched against Mantle in Episode 26, with Mantle winning again, 13-10. Jensen set another record in that contest when he became the only player to hit four home runs in a row, and then a fifth home run in a row. That episode was supposed to be the season one finale, but it turned out to be the last episode of the series: The show's host and producer, Mark Scott, died of a heart attack at age 45, shortly after the last episode aired, and two months later the show's 64-year-old director Benjamin Stoloff also died. Rather than replacing them, the show was cancelled.
- Jensen's last game came against the Yankees, on October 1st, 1961, at Yankee Stadium. He appeared as a pinch hitter and popped out to shortstop Tony Kubek. In the 4th inning of that game, Roger Maris hit his 61st home run, breaking Babe Ruth's single-season record!
- Jackie and Zoe Ann had two sons, Jon and Jay, and a daughter, Jan. Jay's son, Tucker Jensen, was a pitcher in the Blue Jays farm system in 2011 and 2012.
2023.05.31 18:23 k819799amvrhtcom Self-Imposed Videogame Challenge: Trans Ally Edition!
TL;DR (spoilers): You, and anyone who wants to try the challenge with you if it's a multiplayer game, are a trans ally, and your job is to collect $25,000 or the equivalent thereof in in-game money (rounded up to the next smallest divisible part) for your transgender friend's transition in less than 31 in-game years. Everything is allowed. You do not have to finish the game.
Want a new and interesting way to play your favorite videogame? I got one with a transgender theme that is interesting, challenging, easy to implement, and compatible with almost any videogame, so it's a Mario challenge, a Pokémon challenge, a Minecraft challenge, and so on and so forth, all at the same time!
Rule #2: If the in-game currency is fictional then you'll have to convert it (rounded up to the next smallest divisible part). It's easy if you can buy in-game money with real money, even if that feature doesn't work because of a glitch or something. Otherwise, you'll have to do some research. If you can't find any direct information on the internet, I would suggest starting here to get a basic idea on how to calculate that. If there are multiple in-game currencies you are allowed to split the price of the transition among them in any way you want, provided you know the value of all of them. If there is no in-game currency then you are allowed to use points instead. If the game doesn't have points either then you can try to invent a substitute currency but it has to be something that would actually work as a substitute currency in the world you're in. If that's not possible either then the only way for you to win this challenge is to raise real money by doing a let's play of the game. But then you'll have to actually pay for a real trans person's transition (yourself included) or donate the money to transgender-related causes to actually win the challenge. Here's a website that lets you donate for transgender causes. If the amount of in-game money you can hold at once is less or you were unable to find out how much you need then you are also allowed to simply collect the maximum possible amount instead because games will never ask you for more money than you can hold for a single product, meaning that this would have to be the in-game prize of a transition, as transitions are always for only a single person. This only applies to videogame currencies.
Rule #3: You do not need to finish the game. All you need to do to win this challenge is to get the money somehow. Please keep in mind that the exchange rate isn't constant. The exact amount you need to win the challenge has to be enough in the moment when you have the amount. You automatically win the challenge the moment this is the case.
Rule #4: You need to get the money in less than 31 in-game years. This number was calculated by subtracting the age at which children begin to have an innate sense of their own gender (4 years) from the average lifespan of a trans person (35 years). If the game has time-travelling elements, you are allowed to use those to extend the time limit. However, it only counts if this actually involves time itself and not just the timer. The same also goes the other way around: Travelling into the future or even moving in relativistic speeds will decrease the time limit. If the time limit runs out, I hope you have a way to return back to the past later!
Rule #5: If you can choose between multiple difficulty settings, you are allowed to choose the easiest one. In fact, you are expected to. Trans people are already on hard mode and the idea of being an ally is to specifically use the possibilities given to you to help those with fewer possibilities than you. If you have the option to select an easier difficulty setting which would make it easier for you to win this challenge, use it. Even if you're already used to playing on a higher difficulty mode. Not doing so would be considered bad strategy on your part. You are allowed to choose a higher difficulty setting, but please only do so if this actually gives you some advantages, like more rewards, more levels, or faster gameplay. This challenge gives you no bonus points for selecting a higher difficulty setting.
Rule #6: Emulation, and all tricks that come with it, are explicitly allowed. Doing so might be against the law but it is explicitly not against the rules of this challenge. The reason for this is because being transgender has been illegal for a long time and still is in many states, forcing many people to break the law in order to live their lives. The police have historically targeted trans and gender non-conforming folks. Stonewall was a riot against police brutality. I am not advocating for doing anything illegal. I am, however, saying that you should never use the law to argue for the morality of anything trans-related, as doing so would be disrespectful towards a huge part of transgender history. Therefore, this rule will remain in effect even if being transgender ever becomes legal worldwide.
In order to make the challenge even less boring for you, I have started researching loads of fictional currencies and how much money you would have to collect there for this challenge so you don't have to.
A Song of Ice and Fire - 19 Gold Dragons and 1 Copper Star or 39 Hands
Albion Online - 4,752,500 Gold
Among Us - 250,000 Stars
Animal Crossing - 2,625,000 Bells
Animal Jam - 69,833 Diamonds
Animal Jam - 2,688,173 Sapphires
Apex Legends - 2,500,000 Apex Coins
Arcaea - 2,550,000 Memories
Archage Unchained - 125,000,000 Coins
Arknights - 30,000 Originium
Ashes of Creation - 3,376,000 Embers
Astroneer - 2,500,000 QBits
Avatar - 166,666.67 Yuan
Azur Lane - 1,531,440 Gems
Baldi's Basics in Education and Learning - 2,500,000 You Thought Points
Banjo-Kazooie - 900 Musical Notes
BattleTech - 2,500 C-Bills
Be Funny Now! - 2,625,000 Gems
Bioshock Infinite - 715 Silver Eagles
Bloons Monkey City - 1,250,000 Bloonstones
Bloons TD Battles - 625,000 Medallions
Bloons TD Battles 2 - 13,000,000 Monkey Money
Bloons Tower Defense 5 - 19,318,182 Monkey Money
Bloons Tower Defense 5 - 150,000 Tokens
Bloons Tower Defense 6 - 17,500,000 Monkey Money
Boomlings - 93,750,000 Gold
Brawl Stars - 425,000 Gems
Call of Duty - 2,500,000 Points
Candy Crush Saga - 250,000 Gold Bars
Change - finish the game
Chronicles of Riddick - 150,000 UD
Clash of Clans - 2,500,000 Gems
Clash Royale - 2,500,000 Gems
Cookie Clicker - 300,000 Cookies
Cookie Run Kingdom - 2,500,000 Crystals
Cowboy Bebop - 13,461,539 Woolongs
Cyberpunk - 11,208,707,759 Eurodollars
Dead by Daylight - 2,500,000 Auric Cells
Demolition Man - 25 Credits
DemonCrawl - 3,125,000 Tokens
Destiny 2 - 2,500,000 Silver
Disco Zoo - 375,000 DiscoBux
Discworld - 150.00 Ankh-Morpork Dollar or 40,000 Crowns
Disney Ducks Comic Universe
Volcano Valley - 2,500,000,000 Volcanovian Pezozies
Donald Duck - 1,250 Bajillion Pecos
Diablo Immortal - 1,800,180 Eternal Orbs
Disney Emoji Blitz - 219,298,000 Coins or 1,315,780 Gems
Doctor Who - 784,094 Credits
Donkey Kong - 999 Banana Coins
Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom - 83,334 Whuffie
Dragon Mania Legends - 28,470,070,000 Gold or 950,060 Gems
Dragonball Z - 50,000 Zeni
DragonVale - 500 Trunks, 1 Bag, and 1 Pile
Dune - 15,254 Solari
Dungeons and Dragons - 198 Platinum Pieces, 4 Gold Pieces, 1 Silver Piece, and 3 Copper Pieces
Dys4ia - finish the game
Egg Inc. - 17,000,000 Golden Eggs
Elite Dangerous - 31,250,000 ARX
Exoracer - 400,000 Diamonds
Fallen London - 140,000 Fate
Fallout - 1,605 Bottle Caps
Fate/Grand Order - 42,709 Saint Quartz
Felix the Cat - 12,500,000,000,000 Bakshee
Final Fantasy VII - 1,366,121 Gil
Fishing Planet - 194,159,000 Credits or 1,941,590 Baitcoins
Fortnite - 3,125,000 V-Bucks
Gaia Online - 2,500,000 Gaia Cash or 125,000,000,000,000 Gold or 12,500,000 Platinum or 125,000 Flynn's Booties
Game of Thrones - 25 Gold Dragons
Genshin Impact - 1,500,000 Genesis Crystals
Going Under - 10,000,000,000 Styxcoin
Gorilla Tag - 5,000,000 Shiny Rocks
Growtopia - 875,000,000 Gems
Guardians of the Galaxy - 10,715 Units
Guild Wars 2 - 2,000,000 Gems
GURPS - 140,108,846 Gold, 19 Silver, and 13 Copper
Halo - 57,073.82 Credits
Harry Potter - 3,401 Galleons, 6 Sickles, and 4 Knuts
Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage - 2,916,667 Crystals
High Frontier 4 All - 1 Aqua
HoboWars - 25,000 Points
Home: Adventures with Tip & Oh - 50,283,334 Gleeblos
Honkai: Star Rail - 1,620,180 Stellar Jades or 1,620,180 Oneiric Shards
Hunter × Hunter - 2,916,667 Jenny
Hypixel - 3,375,000 SkyBlock Gems or 2,500,000 Gold or 31,250 Loot Chests
In Time - 3.259 average Gregorian years
Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? - 2,625,000 Vals
Jacksfilms - 138,889 YIAY Tokens
Jetpack Joyride - 250,000,000 Coins
Juego de Tronos - 8,966,966 Gold, 43 Silver, and 1 Copper
Kamen Rider Build - 25,000 Dollark
Keeper of the Lost Cities - 1 Luster
Kingdom Hearts - 18,797 Munny
Kingdom of Loathing - 2,500 Mr. Accessories
Kirby series - 3,125,600 Gem Apples
League of Legends - 3,250,000 Riot Points
LEGO series - 32 Studs
Limbus Company - 1,750,000 Lunacy
Lord of the Rings Online - 2,875,600 LOTRO Points or 359,425 Mithril Coins
Magikarp Jump - 1,250,000 Diamonds
Mario series
exact price - 277,778 Mushroom Coins or 277,778 Koopabits
Dr. Mario World - 277,778 Mushroom Coins or 375,000 Diamonds
Super Mario 3D World - 👑👑👑 Lives and 99 Mushroom Coins
3D Mario games - 99 Lives and 49 Mushroom Coins
2D Mario games - 99 Lives and 99 Mushroom Coins
Super Mario Odyssey - 9,999 Mushroom Coins
Super Mario Land 2 - 999 Mushroom Coins
Bowser's Fury - 99 Mushroom Coins
Mario & Luigi: Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga - play until the part where you win the bet against Prince Peasley
Mario Kart Tour - 37,500 Rubies
Mass Effect - 156250 Credits
Merge Dragons - 625,000 Dragon Gems
Minecraft - 64 Emeralds
Minecraft: Bedrock Edition - 4,250,000 Minecoins
Monster Hunter - 2,625,000 Zeni
Monster Legends - 325,000 Gems
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic - 2,500 Bits
My Singing Monsters - 500,000 Diamonds
Narnia - 100,000 Lions
Neko Atsume - 1,875,000 Gold Fish
Neopets - 2,500,000 Neocash
New World - 25,000,000 Gold Coins
Nineteen Eighty Four - 25,000.00 Oceanian Dollars
Ninja Kiwi - 625,000 NK Coins
Naruto - 262,500 Ryō
Odd Squad - 25,000 Jackalope Dollars
One Piece - 2,625,000 Belly or 26,250,000,000 Extol
Path of Exile - 6,250,000 Chaos Orbs or 100,000 Exalted Orbs
Pixel Gun 3D - 750,000 Gems
Plants vs. Zombies 2 - 50,000,000 Coins or 250,000 Gems
Pluto Nash - 3 Hillaries
Pocket Trains - 3,000,000 Bux
Pokémon series - 999,999 Pokédollars
Pokémon Go - 1,718,750 Pokécoins
Pokémon Sword and Shield - 175,000 Watts
Pokémon UNITE - 1,531,250 Aeos Gems
Progressbar95 - 125,000 Product Keys
Ratchet & Clank - 38,462 Metal Bolts
Rebuild World - 2,625,000 Aurum
Red Dwarf - 1,308 Dollar Pounds and 25 Pennycents
Rick and Morty - 125,000 Flurbos
Roblox - 2,000,000 Robux
Rocket League - 2,500,000 Credits
Roma - 1,685,519,963 Denarius and 4 Sesterius
Sea of Thieves - 2,291,667 Ancient Coins
Second Life - 8,000,000 Linden Dollars
Shadowrun - 11,208,707,759 Nuyen or 33,626,123,276 Rubles
Slow Life in Another World (I Wish!) - 2,625,000 Nohl
Snow White with the Red Hair - 2,625,000 Dill
Sonic series - 4,556,386 Rings
Sonic Forces: Speed Battle - 2,500,000 Red Star Rings
Spaceballs - 82,667 Space Bucks
Sprawl Trilogy - 1,086,957 New Yen
Spy X Family - 8,203 Dalc and 13 Ostanian Pents
Spyro - 166,667 Gems
Star Trek - 516,235 Federation Credits or 250,000 Darsek
Star Trek (Mari) - 675,676 Renn
Star Trek (United Federation of Planets) - 12,500 Federation Credits
Star Trek: The Next Generation - 15 Bars of Gold-pressed Latinum, 15 Strips, and 6 Slips
Star Wars - 500,000 Galactic Credit Standards
Stardew Valley - 500g
Stormbringer - 186,811,795 Gold, 9 Silver, and 8 Copper
Street Fighter - 3,137 Bison Dollars
Subway Surfers - 225,000,000 Coins or 125,000 Keys
Sword Art Online: Gun Gale Online - 262,500,000 Credits
Team Fortress 2 - 10,000 Keys
Temple Run - 250,000,000 Coins
Terraria - 2 Silver Coins
The Ballad of Rika Strong-Arm - 148 Gold Pieces
The Battle Cats - 750,000 Cat Food
The Binding of Isaac - impossible because you can only hold 99¢
The Elder Scrolls - 11,004 Septim
The Flintstones - 7,813 Clams
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - 428,572 Altarian dollars
The Impossible Game 2 - 2,000,000 Blocks
The Number of the Beast - 25 New Dollars
The Office - 250,000,000 Schrute Bucks
The Sims - 19,380 Simoleons
The Witcher - 83,334 Crowns or 63,452 Orens
Tiny Tower - 7,500,000 Bux
Touhou LostWord - 760,000 God Crystals
Trigun - 90,580 Double Dollars
Truxton King - 17,858 Gavvo
War Robots - 3,000,000 Gold
Warframe - 375,000 Platinum
What Mad Universe - 250,000 Credits
Who Framed Roger Rabbit - 2,808,989 Simoleons
World Flipper - 1,000,000 Lodestar Beads
World of Tanks and World of Warplanes - 3,418,997,741,500 Gold
World of Warcraft Classic - 2,375,000 Gold
World of Warcraft The Burning Crusade - 3,500,000 Gold Coins
World of Warships - 9,375,000,000 Credits or 6,250,000 Doubloons
Zelda - 999 Rupees
The values are not guaranteed to be accurate. In fact, I have found many cases of contradictory information on the internet. But you don't care about that anyway, do you? This isn't about the exact value anyway. These are all meant to be rough estimates to give you a sense of scale.
/uj If you donate gold in Gaia Online, the company will donate money to charity. I find this mechanic to be a really good idea and I would like to see it more often because it enables players to support the less fortunate without having to donate their own money. Just imagine if every game on this list gave you the option to donate $25,000 worth of in-game money which would then be donated to transgender causes and unlock the Trans Ally achievement! I know it would be very cumbersome to unlock, but completionists would definitely go for it and also, it would be done for a good cause!
---
/rj Did you know you can make it so that every time an amount of money is shown, its value is converted into transgender transitions?
Simply get Universal Automatic Currency Converter, then scroll down to Custom display and enter the following:
Use custom display: ☑
Custom display: ¤ 🏳️⚧️
Custom conversion rate: 0.00004
---
/uj The original post was removed by Reddit's spam filters so I uploaded it again without the links in the list. The original list with the links in them will be in the comments.
submitted by k819799amvrhtcom to transgendercirclejerk [link] [comments]
Want a new and interesting way to play your favorite videogame? I got one with a transgender theme that is interesting, challenging, easy to implement, and compatible with almost any videogame, so it's a Mario challenge, a Pokémon challenge, a Minecraft challenge, and so on and so forth, all at the same time!
The Plot
You, and anyone who wants to try the challenge with you if it's a multiplayer game, are a trans ally, and your job is to collect money to pay for your transgender friend's transition. You win by acquiring enough in-game money. You are allowed to consult the internet, use passwords from the internet, commit in-game crimes, purchase microtransactions, abuse glitches, use cheat codes, and even hack the game to reach your goal, but is it really worth the effort? You are kinda expected to use the easiest way to win the challenge that you know of.The Rules
Rule #1: You have to get the money you need for a transition. In order to make the challenge less boring for you, I did the research for you and came to the result of $25,000. However, this value might change if you try out this challenge in the far future, meaning that this challenge technically changes depending on when you attempt it. The value is expected to rise even further with inflation, or perhaps it might be reduced with the invention of more efficient surgery techniques. If the USA ever starts getting the universal healthcare system or a societal breakdown makes these surgeries impossible, this challenge will refer to the cost of the legal name & gender change, instead. And if that also ever becomes free then just choose a different country where it isn't free yet. But this is not going to change anytime soon (When do you think this challenge will become obsolete?) so, for now, you just have to remember to collect $25,000 in in-game money. This applies to every game that uses $ for in-game money. If the game uses £ or ¥ or € or any other real-world value, you'll have to convert it. Here's an online tool for converting currencies, which also supports various cryptocurrencies and custom rate dates. If the maximum amount of in-game money you can hold at once is less then the challenge is simply impossible. This only applies to non-videogame currencies.Rule #2: If the in-game currency is fictional then you'll have to convert it (rounded up to the next smallest divisible part). It's easy if you can buy in-game money with real money, even if that feature doesn't work because of a glitch or something. Otherwise, you'll have to do some research. If you can't find any direct information on the internet, I would suggest starting here to get a basic idea on how to calculate that. If there are multiple in-game currencies you are allowed to split the price of the transition among them in any way you want, provided you know the value of all of them. If there is no in-game currency then you are allowed to use points instead. If the game doesn't have points either then you can try to invent a substitute currency but it has to be something that would actually work as a substitute currency in the world you're in. If that's not possible either then the only way for you to win this challenge is to raise real money by doing a let's play of the game. But then you'll have to actually pay for a real trans person's transition (yourself included) or donate the money to transgender-related causes to actually win the challenge. Here's a website that lets you donate for transgender causes. If the amount of in-game money you can hold at once is less or you were unable to find out how much you need then you are also allowed to simply collect the maximum possible amount instead because games will never ask you for more money than you can hold for a single product, meaning that this would have to be the in-game prize of a transition, as transitions are always for only a single person. This only applies to videogame currencies.
Rule #3: You do not need to finish the game. All you need to do to win this challenge is to get the money somehow. Please keep in mind that the exchange rate isn't constant. The exact amount you need to win the challenge has to be enough in the moment when you have the amount. You automatically win the challenge the moment this is the case.
Rule #4: You need to get the money in less than 31 in-game years. This number was calculated by subtracting the age at which children begin to have an innate sense of their own gender (4 years) from the average lifespan of a trans person (35 years). If the game has time-travelling elements, you are allowed to use those to extend the time limit. However, it only counts if this actually involves time itself and not just the timer. The same also goes the other way around: Travelling into the future or even moving in relativistic speeds will decrease the time limit. If the time limit runs out, I hope you have a way to return back to the past later!
Rule #5: If you can choose between multiple difficulty settings, you are allowed to choose the easiest one. In fact, you are expected to. Trans people are already on hard mode and the idea of being an ally is to specifically use the possibilities given to you to help those with fewer possibilities than you. If you have the option to select an easier difficulty setting which would make it easier for you to win this challenge, use it. Even if you're already used to playing on a higher difficulty mode. Not doing so would be considered bad strategy on your part. You are allowed to choose a higher difficulty setting, but please only do so if this actually gives you some advantages, like more rewards, more levels, or faster gameplay. This challenge gives you no bonus points for selecting a higher difficulty setting.
Rule #6: Emulation, and all tricks that come with it, are explicitly allowed. Doing so might be against the law but it is explicitly not against the rules of this challenge. The reason for this is because being transgender has been illegal for a long time and still is in many states, forcing many people to break the law in order to live their lives. The police have historically targeted trans and gender non-conforming folks. Stonewall was a riot against police brutality. I am not advocating for doing anything illegal. I am, however, saying that you should never use the law to argue for the morality of anything trans-related, as doing so would be disrespectful towards a huge part of transgender history. Therefore, this rule will remain in effect even if being transgender ever becomes legal worldwide.
In order to make the challenge even less boring for you, I have started researching loads of fictional currencies and how much money you would have to collect there for this challenge so you don't have to.
A Song of Ice and Fire - 19 Gold Dragons and 1 Copper Star or 39 Hands
Albion Online - 4,752,500 Gold
Among Us - 250,000 Stars
Animal Crossing - 2,625,000 Bells
Animal Jam - 69,833 Diamonds
Animal Jam - 2,688,173 Sapphires
Apex Legends - 2,500,000 Apex Coins
Arcaea - 2,550,000 Memories
Archage Unchained - 125,000,000 Coins
Arknights - 30,000 Originium
Ashes of Creation - 3,376,000 Embers
Astroneer - 2,500,000 QBits
Avatar - 166,666.67 Yuan
Azur Lane - 1,531,440 Gems
Baldi's Basics in Education and Learning - 2,500,000 You Thought Points
Banjo-Kazooie - 900 Musical Notes
BattleTech - 2,500 C-Bills
Be Funny Now! - 2,625,000 Gems
Bioshock Infinite - 715 Silver Eagles
Bloons Monkey City - 1,250,000 Bloonstones
Bloons TD Battles - 625,000 Medallions
Bloons TD Battles 2 - 13,000,000 Monkey Money
Bloons Tower Defense 5 - 19,318,182 Monkey Money
Bloons Tower Defense 5 - 150,000 Tokens
Bloons Tower Defense 6 - 17,500,000 Monkey Money
Boomlings - 93,750,000 Gold
Brawl Stars - 425,000 Gems
Call of Duty - 2,500,000 Points
Candy Crush Saga - 250,000 Gold Bars
Change - finish the game
Chronicles of Riddick - 150,000 UD
Clash of Clans - 2,500,000 Gems
Clash Royale - 2,500,000 Gems
Cookie Clicker - 300,000 Cookies
Cookie Run Kingdom - 2,500,000 Crystals
Cowboy Bebop - 13,461,539 Woolongs
Cyberpunk - 11,208,707,759 Eurodollars
Dead by Daylight - 2,500,000 Auric Cells
Demolition Man - 25 Credits
DemonCrawl - 3,125,000 Tokens
Destiny 2 - 2,500,000 Silver
Disco Zoo - 375,000 DiscoBux
Discworld - 150.00 Ankh-Morpork Dollar or 40,000 Crowns
Disney Ducks Comic Universe
Volcano Valley - 2,500,000,000 Volcanovian Pezozies
Donald Duck - 1,250 Bajillion Pecos
Diablo Immortal - 1,800,180 Eternal Orbs
Disney Emoji Blitz - 219,298,000 Coins or 1,315,780 Gems
Doctor Who - 784,094 Credits
Donkey Kong - 999 Banana Coins
Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom - 83,334 Whuffie
Dragon Mania Legends - 28,470,070,000 Gold or 950,060 Gems
Dragonball Z - 50,000 Zeni
DragonVale - 500 Trunks, 1 Bag, and 1 Pile
Dune - 15,254 Solari
Dungeons and Dragons - 198 Platinum Pieces, 4 Gold Pieces, 1 Silver Piece, and 3 Copper Pieces
Dys4ia - finish the game
Egg Inc. - 17,000,000 Golden Eggs
Elite Dangerous - 31,250,000 ARX
Exoracer - 400,000 Diamonds
Fallen London - 140,000 Fate
Fallout - 1,605 Bottle Caps
Fate/Grand Order - 42,709 Saint Quartz
Felix the Cat - 12,500,000,000,000 Bakshee
Final Fantasy VII - 1,366,121 Gil
Fishing Planet - 194,159,000 Credits or 1,941,590 Baitcoins
Fortnite - 3,125,000 V-Bucks
Gaia Online - 2,500,000 Gaia Cash or 125,000,000,000,000 Gold or 12,500,000 Platinum or 125,000 Flynn's Booties
Game of Thrones - 25 Gold Dragons
Genshin Impact - 1,500,000 Genesis Crystals
Going Under - 10,000,000,000 Styxcoin
Gorilla Tag - 5,000,000 Shiny Rocks
Growtopia - 875,000,000 Gems
Guardians of the Galaxy - 10,715 Units
Guild Wars 2 - 2,000,000 Gems
GURPS - 140,108,846 Gold, 19 Silver, and 13 Copper
Halo - 57,073.82 Credits
Harry Potter - 3,401 Galleons, 6 Sickles, and 4 Knuts
Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage - 2,916,667 Crystals
High Frontier 4 All - 1 Aqua
HoboWars - 25,000 Points
Home: Adventures with Tip & Oh - 50,283,334 Gleeblos
Honkai: Star Rail - 1,620,180 Stellar Jades or 1,620,180 Oneiric Shards
Hunter × Hunter - 2,916,667 Jenny
Hypixel - 3,375,000 SkyBlock Gems or 2,500,000 Gold or 31,250 Loot Chests
In Time - 3.259 average Gregorian years
Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? - 2,625,000 Vals
Jacksfilms - 138,889 YIAY Tokens
Jetpack Joyride - 250,000,000 Coins
Juego de Tronos - 8,966,966 Gold, 43 Silver, and 1 Copper
Kamen Rider Build - 25,000 Dollark
Keeper of the Lost Cities - 1 Luster
Kingdom Hearts - 18,797 Munny
Kingdom of Loathing - 2,500 Mr. Accessories
Kirby series - 3,125,600 Gem Apples
League of Legends - 3,250,000 Riot Points
LEGO series - 32 Studs
Limbus Company - 1,750,000 Lunacy
Lord of the Rings Online - 2,875,600 LOTRO Points or 359,425 Mithril Coins
Magikarp Jump - 1,250,000 Diamonds
Mario series
exact price - 277,778 Mushroom Coins or 277,778 Koopabits
Dr. Mario World - 277,778 Mushroom Coins or 375,000 Diamonds
Super Mario 3D World - 👑👑👑 Lives and 99 Mushroom Coins
3D Mario games - 99 Lives and 49 Mushroom Coins
2D Mario games - 99 Lives and 99 Mushroom Coins
Super Mario Odyssey - 9,999 Mushroom Coins
Super Mario Land 2 - 999 Mushroom Coins
Bowser's Fury - 99 Mushroom Coins
Mario & Luigi: Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga - play until the part where you win the bet against Prince Peasley
Mario Kart Tour - 37,500 Rubies
Mass Effect - 156250 Credits
Merge Dragons - 625,000 Dragon Gems
Minecraft - 64 Emeralds
Minecraft: Bedrock Edition - 4,250,000 Minecoins
Monster Hunter - 2,625,000 Zeni
Monster Legends - 325,000 Gems
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic - 2,500 Bits
My Singing Monsters - 500,000 Diamonds
Narnia - 100,000 Lions
Neko Atsume - 1,875,000 Gold Fish
Neopets - 2,500,000 Neocash
New World - 25,000,000 Gold Coins
Nineteen Eighty Four - 25,000.00 Oceanian Dollars
Ninja Kiwi - 625,000 NK Coins
Naruto - 262,500 Ryō
Odd Squad - 25,000 Jackalope Dollars
One Piece - 2,625,000 Belly or 26,250,000,000 Extol
Path of Exile - 6,250,000 Chaos Orbs or 100,000 Exalted Orbs
Pixel Gun 3D - 750,000 Gems
Plants vs. Zombies 2 - 50,000,000 Coins or 250,000 Gems
Pluto Nash - 3 Hillaries
Pocket Trains - 3,000,000 Bux
Pokémon series - 999,999 Pokédollars
Pokémon Go - 1,718,750 Pokécoins
Pokémon Sword and Shield - 175,000 Watts
Pokémon UNITE - 1,531,250 Aeos Gems
Progressbar95 - 125,000 Product Keys
Ratchet & Clank - 38,462 Metal Bolts
Rebuild World - 2,625,000 Aurum
Red Dwarf - 1,308 Dollar Pounds and 25 Pennycents
Rick and Morty - 125,000 Flurbos
Roblox - 2,000,000 Robux
Rocket League - 2,500,000 Credits
Roma - 1,685,519,963 Denarius and 4 Sesterius
Sea of Thieves - 2,291,667 Ancient Coins
Second Life - 8,000,000 Linden Dollars
Shadowrun - 11,208,707,759 Nuyen or 33,626,123,276 Rubles
Slow Life in Another World (I Wish!) - 2,625,000 Nohl
Snow White with the Red Hair - 2,625,000 Dill
Sonic series - 4,556,386 Rings
Sonic Forces: Speed Battle - 2,500,000 Red Star Rings
Spaceballs - 82,667 Space Bucks
Sprawl Trilogy - 1,086,957 New Yen
Spy X Family - 8,203 Dalc and 13 Ostanian Pents
Spyro - 166,667 Gems
Star Trek - 516,235 Federation Credits or 250,000 Darsek
Star Trek (Mari) - 675,676 Renn
Star Trek (United Federation of Planets) - 12,500 Federation Credits
Star Trek: The Next Generation - 15 Bars of Gold-pressed Latinum, 15 Strips, and 6 Slips
Star Wars - 500,000 Galactic Credit Standards
Stardew Valley - 500g
Stormbringer - 186,811,795 Gold, 9 Silver, and 8 Copper
Street Fighter - 3,137 Bison Dollars
Subway Surfers - 225,000,000 Coins or 125,000 Keys
Sword Art Online: Gun Gale Online - 262,500,000 Credits
Team Fortress 2 - 10,000 Keys
Temple Run - 250,000,000 Coins
Terraria - 2 Silver Coins
The Ballad of Rika Strong-Arm - 148 Gold Pieces
The Battle Cats - 750,000 Cat Food
The Binding of Isaac - impossible because you can only hold 99¢
The Elder Scrolls - 11,004 Septim
The Flintstones - 7,813 Clams
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - 428,572 Altarian dollars
The Impossible Game 2 - 2,000,000 Blocks
The Number of the Beast - 25 New Dollars
The Office - 250,000,000 Schrute Bucks
The Sims - 19,380 Simoleons
The Witcher - 83,334 Crowns or 63,452 Orens
Tiny Tower - 7,500,000 Bux
Touhou LostWord - 760,000 God Crystals
Trigun - 90,580 Double Dollars
Truxton King - 17,858 Gavvo
War Robots - 3,000,000 Gold
Warframe - 375,000 Platinum
What Mad Universe - 250,000 Credits
Who Framed Roger Rabbit - 2,808,989 Simoleons
World Flipper - 1,000,000 Lodestar Beads
World of Tanks and World of Warplanes - 3,418,997,741,500 Gold
World of Warcraft Classic - 2,375,000 Gold
World of Warcraft The Burning Crusade - 3,500,000 Gold Coins
World of Warships - 9,375,000,000 Credits or 6,250,000 Doubloons
Zelda - 999 Rupees
The values are not guaranteed to be accurate. In fact, I have found many cases of contradictory information on the internet. But you don't care about that anyway, do you? This isn't about the exact value anyway. These are all meant to be rough estimates to give you a sense of scale.
The Motivation
I was inspired by my Pokémon Trans Ally challenge that is about collecting money for a trans person's surgery. If you actually attempt this challenge you'll see that it'll usually be a very long and tedious challenge that will require a lot of experimentation, long-term planning, and doing the same things over and over again for a very long time, especially if you wanna try this as a speedrun. If the challenge bores you out, well, that is the point! The challenge is meant to give people with little or no sense of money an impression of how much money this really is! Now, you could argue that this challenge could theoretically be used to visualize any amount of money, and you would technically be correct, but I still think that a transgender transition is one of the best matches for this challenge because:- A transition is always only for one person. We aren't talking about a company buying another company or a country investing in more infrastructure. This is something within the realm of a single person so it makes sense to have this be a challenge for a single person or a small group.
- This is not a luxury item like a famous painting or a private jet. Overwhelming scientific evidence proves that this is a medical necessity that trans people require in order to live like the majority of people. It is not something you want but something you need. So you can really say that acquiring all this money is really something that they have to go through. Therefore, unless you are transgender yourself, I would really recommend you to actually play the challenge until the end, even if it takes you years to actually do so. Not for your enjoyment but to acknowledge trans people's struggles and maybe also to protest against the gatekeeping system.
- Unlike people who regularly need medications, the transgender transition is a once-in-a-lifetime thing and is therefore compatible with a challenge that you only play through once and then never again.
- Once your transition is over, it cannot be taken from you.
- It is not possible to request the costs to be paid for you if you can prove that you cannot afford it, meaning the only way to get it is to actually get the money.
- Being trans is not an illness or a disability. Trans people never did anything wrong, neither deliberately nor accidentally. They are simply born with a condition that requires them to get the money. Trans people are therefore as guilt-free as a typical videogame hero.
The Fun Facts
- If you collect 1,000,000 coins in Super Mario Bros. 2, you win a golden Mario statue. This is actually more money than required for the trans ally challenge!
- If payment by installments were supported by this challenge then the most cumbersome game to do this challenge in would be The Binding of Isaac, because that would require you to send at least 25,253 installments. You would have to max out your money counter every 10¾ hours on average.
- You immediately win the challenge if you try it on a game where the money you start with is already high enough. For example, in the game The Roll Ahead, you play as either Bill Gates or Steve Jobs and you start out with 35 Billion.
- In the game Anti-Monopoly, you win by losing your money. However, if you try this challenge in this game, you'll still have to gain money. This is kinda the opposite of a coinless challenge because where a coinless challenge makes positive money negative, this challenge makes negative money positive.
- Characters like the monk from Crypt of the NecroDancer, Entity from depict1, and Default Dan from Default Dan die upon touching money. Kinda makes you think, doesn't it?
- The purple coins in the Super Mario Galaxy series, the Butz in Kappa Mikey, the Glotkies in Taxi, the coins in Syobon Action, and the Rasbukniks in Li'l Abner are worth nothing.
- If World of Anime Babes was a real game then this challenge would require 1,250,000,000 tokens. As the narrator said: "Big numbers are better, right?" One way to get this money would be by selling like 1,000 in-game outfits.
- If you are playing a game taking place in the medieval time, the challenge would require you to get 411¼ medieval pennies.
- If you wanna make the monetary values more immersive, you can look at how they are depicted in the menu of microtransactions. For example, Clash of Clans groups predefined values of gems into bags, sacks, boxes, and chests that therefore represent specific amounts of gems and could therefore be regarded as higher currency units. For example, 2,500,000 gems fit into 179 chests. Sure, this won't help you with strategizing, but it will certainly make it more interesting for your audience!
- According to this article, this challenge would require you to get 129,058,751 Simeons. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to determine which franchise Simeons are from.
- The Ztars from Mario Party and the Rupoors from The Legend of Zelda are currencies that actually take money away from you, making their exchange rates negative!
- If Terrance & Phillip: Give Us Your Money was a real game then this challenge would require 10,204,200 Canadian Coins. This value was calculated under the assumption that everyone would realize that the cheapest deal is actually the best deal. One way to get this money would be by not playing the game 2,041 times. Oh good, you're already on it. But will you make it within the time limit?
- The values of LEGO Studs were calculated using the value of a human life. If you applied this logic to every game with currency units that are worth ¹⁄₁₀₀ life each then a single one of those currency units would already be enough to win this challenge and if you applied this logic to every game where 10,000 points give you an extra life then this challenge would require you to earn 32 points, but only if there isn't already an in-game currency.
- The fictional currency with the highest inflation rate I could find was in Elbonia, the rate being 1,000,000,000% daily. Despite the high time limit, I would recommend you to hurry with getting enough money there if you even can.
- The average age at the time the RTS Rise of Nations takes place in was roughly 31 years, which would reduce this challenge's time limit to 27 in-game years at most. Which would be about 2.08 real-time seconds according to estimations made by PeanutButterGamer, according to which the time limit for Diablo would be 6 in-game years and the challenge would be impossible for SimAnt.
- For obvious reasons, a society can only survive if its maximum lifespan is at least the minimum age of fertility. Due to precocious puberty, the world records for the youngest biological parents are 9 years for microgametic parents and 5 years and 7 months for macrogametic parents, meaning that the maximum lifespan of any human society must always be at least 9 years. Since 9 years are more than 4 years, it therefore follows that transgender healthcare benefits all possible human societies. Remember this if you ever attempt this challenge on a game that takes place in a society where these values are different for whatever reason, like a society of anthropomorphic animals for example.
- If the average lifespan was less than 4 years then the average lifespan of a trans person would actually be higher than the average lifespan as a whole. This is because trans people who die before the age of 4 would not be included in the statistic, due to being undetectable. If that happens, you'll have to recalculate what the statistic would be.
- Transgender surgery is older than the discovery of Pluto, modern toilet paper, chicken tikka masala, duct tape, ballpoint pens, ciabatta bread, Velcro, and Tupperware.
- The Wumpa Fruit from Crash Bandicoot are also a form of currency, as was revealed in some games. A Wumpa Fruit is worth exactly the same as a piece of gold in Skylanders. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find out what either of those are worth.
- The most valuable fictional currency that I could find was the Aqua from High Frontier 4 All, which is estimated to be a three-digit million $ amount.
- Team Kirby Clash Deluxe and Super Kirby Clash value Gem Apples differently. I based their value on Super Kirby Clash because Team Kirby Crash Deluxe only lets you purchase a maximum of 3,000 Gem Apples, meaning that Super Kirby Clash would be more practical for purchases over $29.85. Noone would accept a payment of 838 installments if a more practical way of payment is possible.
- This challenge would require 2,500,000 Nuggets in the game PokéHeroes but I didn't add it to the list because it's a fangame and I didn't wanna confuse.
/uj If you donate gold in Gaia Online, the company will donate money to charity. I find this mechanic to be a really good idea and I would like to see it more often because it enables players to support the less fortunate without having to donate their own money. Just imagine if every game on this list gave you the option to donate $25,000 worth of in-game money which would then be donated to transgender causes and unlock the Trans Ally achievement! I know it would be very cumbersome to unlock, but completionists would definitely go for it and also, it would be done for a good cause!
---
/rj Did you know you can make it so that every time an amount of money is shown, its value is converted into transgender transitions?
Simply get Universal Automatic Currency Converter, then scroll down to Custom display and enter the following:
Use custom display: ☑
Custom display: ¤ 🏳️⚧️
Custom conversion rate: 0.00004
---
/uj The original post was removed by Reddit's spam filters so I uploaded it again without the links in the list. The original list with the links in them will be in the comments.
2023.05.31 07:24 yawningvoid28 Full Daily Turner Classic Movie (U.S.) Schedule For June, 2023.
Airtimes EST
THU JUN 01
(1:30AM) The Girl Who Had Everything (1953/1h 9m/Drama/Richard Thorpe)
(2:45AM) It's a Big Country: An American Anthology (1952/1h 29m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(4:30AM) Alias a Gentleman (1948/1h 16m/Comedy/Harry Beaumont)
(6:00AM) Showgirl in Hollywood (1930/1h 20m/Musical/Mervyn Le Roy)
(7:30AM) Bright Lights (1931/1h 9m/Musical/Michael Curtiz)
(8:45AM) Cain and Mabel (1936/1h 30m/Romance/Lloyd Bacon)
(10:30AM) Marked Woman (1937/1h 36m/Drama/Lloyd Bacon)
(12:15PM) Ziegfeld Girl (1941/2h 11m/Musical/Robert Z. Leonard)
(2:45PM) The Prince and the Showgirl (1957/1h 57m/Comedy/Laurence Olivier)
(4:45PM) Party Girl (1958/1h 39m/Crime/Nicholas Ray)
(6:30PM) Viva Las Vegas (1964/1h 26m/Musical/George Sidney)
(8:00PM) Bringing Up Baby (1938/1h 42m/Comedy/Howard Hawk)
(10:00PM) Break of Hearts (1935/1h 20m/Romance/Philip Moeller)
(11:30PM) Sylvia Scarlett (1935/1h 37m/Romance/George Cukor)
FRI JUN 02
(1:15AM) Mary of Scotland (1936/2h 3m/Romance/John Ford)
(3:30AM) Quality Street (1937/1h 24m/Comedy/George Stevens)
(5:00AM) Christopher Strong (1933/1h 17m/Romance/Dorothy Arzner)
(6:30AM) The Little Minister (1934/1h 50m/Romance/Richard Wallace)
(8:30AM) Spitfire (1934/1h 28m/Drama/John Cromwell)
(10:00AM) Blood on the Moon (1948/1h 28m/Western/Robert Wise)
(11:30AM) The Good Guys and the Bad Guys (1969/1h 31m/Comedy/Burt Kennedy)
(1:15PM) Desire Me (1947/1h 31m/Romance/George Cukor)
(3:00PM) Holiday Affair (1949/1h 27m/Romance/Don Hartman)
(4:30PM) Angel Face (1953/1h 31m/Crime/Otto Preminger)
(6:15PM) Out of the Past (1947/1h 37m/Film-NoiJacques Tourneur)
(8:00PM) She Done Him Wrong (1933/1h 6m/Comedy/Lowell Sherman)
(9:30PM) The Gang's All Here (1943/1h 43m/Musical/Busby Berkeley)
(11:30PM) The Importance Of Being Earnest (1952/1h 35m/Comedy/Anthony Asquith)
SAT JUN 03
(1:15AM) Pillow Talk (1959/1h 45m/Comedy/Michael Gordon)
(3:15AM) Auntie Mame (1958/2h 23m/Comedy//Morton DaCosta)
(5:45AM) The Women (1939/2h 12m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: The Homeless Flea (1940/0h 7m/Animation/Rudolf Ising)
(8:09AM) One Against the World (1939/0h 10m/Short/Fred Zinnemann)
(8:21AM) Zeeland "The Hidden Paradise" (1935/0h 6m/Short/Ruth Fitzpatrick)
(8:29AM) The Big Noise (1936/57m/Drama/Frank Mcdonald)
(9:30AM) The BATMAN: The Executioner Strikes (1943/0h 15m/Serial/Lambert Hillyer)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Hill-Billing and Cooing (1956/0h 6m/Animation/Seymour Kneitel)
(10:08AM) Calling Philo Vance (1939/1h 2m/Suspense/William Clemens)
(11:30AM) Main Street Today (1944/0h 19m/Short/Edward L. Cahn)
(12:00PM) ABBA: The Movie (1977/1h 34m/Documentary/?)
(1:45PM) Hoosiers (1986/1h 55m/Drama/David Anspaugh)
(4:00PM) Angels in the Outfield (1951/1h 42m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(6:00PM) Strangers on a Train (1951/1h 36m/Suspense/Alfred Hitchcock)
(8:00PM) The Black Shield of Falworth (1954/1h 39m/Adventure/)
(10:00PM) The Great Impostor (1960/1h 52m/Adaptation/Robert Mulligan)
SUN JUN 04
(12:00AM) Between Midnight and Dawn (1950/1h 29m/Film-NoiGordon Douglas)
(2:00AM) Swing Shift (1984/1h 40m/Romance/Jonathan Demme)
(4:00AM) Protocol (1984/1h 36m/Comedy/Herbert Ross)
(6:00AM) Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960/1h 30m/Drama/Karel Reisz)
(7:45AM) The Loved One (1965/1h 56m/Comedy/Tony Richardson)
(10:00AM) Between Midnight and Dawn (1950/1h 29m/Film-NoiGordon Douglas)
(12:00PM) Born Yesterday (1950/1h 43m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(2:00PM) The Mating Game (1959/1h 37m/Comedy/George Marshall)
(3:45PM) Sex and the Single Girl (1964/1h 54m/Comedy/Richard Quine)
(5:45PM) A Chorus Line (1985/1h 53m/Musical/Richard Attenborough)
(8:00PM) Blazing Saddles (1974/1h 33m/Western/Mel Brooks)
(10:00PM) Along Came Jones (1945/1h 30m/Western/Stuart Heisler)
MON JUN 05
(12:00AM) The Blackbird (1926/1h 26m/Tod Browning)
(2:00AM) Before the Rain (1994/1h 55m/WaMilcho Manchevski)
(4:00AM) Three Colors: White (1994/1h 30m/Drama/Krzysztof Kieslowski)
(6:00AM) June Bride (1948/1h 37m/Romance/Bretaigne Windust)
(8:00AM) Royal Wedding (1951/1h 33m/Musical/Stanley Donen)
(10:00AM) Father of the Bride (1950/1h 33m/Comedy/Vincente Minnelli)
(12:00PM) Double Wedding (1937/1h 27m/Comedy/Richard Thorpe)
(2:00PM) The Bride Came C.O.D. (1941/1h 32m/Comedy/William Keighley)
(4:00PM) Father of the Bride (1991/1h 45m/Comedy/Charles Shyer)
(6:00PM) High Society (1956/1h 47m/Musical/Charles Walters)
(8:00PM) High Sierra (1941/1h 40m/Crime/Raoul Walsh)
(10:00PM) Colorado Territory (1949/1h 34m/Western/Raoul Walsh)
TUE JUN 06
(12:00AM) The Women (1939/2h 12m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(2:15AM) The Opposite Sex (1956/1h 57m/Musical/David Miller)
(4:15AM) The Bride Goes Wild (1948/1h 38m/Comedy/Norman Taurog)
(6:00AM) The Private Life of Don Juan (1934/1h 26m/Alexander Korda)
(7:30AM) The Life Of Jimmy Dolan (1933/1h 10m/Archie Mayo)
(9:00AM) The Mad Miss Manton (1938)1h 5m/Mystery/Leigh Jason)
(10:30AM) In the Cool of the Day (1963/1h 29m/Robert Stevens)
(12:00PM) The Bad and the Beautiful (1952/1h 58m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(2:00PM) Coma (1978/1h 53m/HorroMichael Crichton)
(4:00PM) The Clock (1945/1h 30m/Romance/Vincente Minnelli)
(5:45PM) Cabaret (1972/2h 4m/Musical/Bob Fosse)
(8:00PM) Singin' in the Rain (1952/1h 43m/Musical/Gene Kelly)
(10:00PM) A Star Is Born (1954/2h 56m/Musical/George Cukor)
WED JUN 07
(1:15AM) A Star Is Born (1937/1h 51m/Romance/William A. Wellman)
(3:15AM) What Price Hollywood? (1932/1h 28m/Drama/George Cukor)
(5:00AM) Show People (1928/1h 23m/Silent/King Vidor)
(6:30AM) Souls for Sale (1923/1h 30m/Rupert Hughes)
(8:15AM) Hell Below (1933/1h 45m/WaJack Conway)
(10:00AM) The Navy Comes Through (1942/1h 22m/WaA. Edward Sutherland)
(11:30AM) Sealed Cargo (1951/1h 29m/Adventure/Alfred Werker)
(1:00PM) Torpedo Run (1958/1h 38m/Joseph Pevney)
(2:45PM) Submarine D-1 (1937/1h 40m/Drama/Lloyd Bacon)
(4:30PM) Battle of the Coral Sea (1959/1h 20m/WaPaul Wendkos)
(6:00PM) Around the World Under the Sea (1965/1h 57m/HorroAndrew Marton)
(8:00PM) Film: The Living Record of Our Memory (2021/2h 0m/Documentary/Inés Toharia Terán)
(10:15PM) The Invention of Cinema: The First Colors of… (2022/Documentary)
(11:30PM) The Invention of Cinema: Cinema Finds its Voice (2022/Documentary)
THU JUN 08
(12:45AM) Going Attractions: The Definitive Story of the Movie Palace (2019/1h 24m/Documentary/April Wright)
(2:30AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 01) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(3:45AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 02) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(5:00AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 03) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(6:15AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 04) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(7:30AM) Image Makers: The Adventures of America's Pioneer Cinematographers (2019/1h 31m/Documentary/Daniel Raim)
(9:30AM) This is Francis X. Bushman (2021/1h 0m/Documentary/Lon Davis)
(10:45AM) The Doughgirls (1944/1h 42m/Comedy/James V. Kern)
(12:30PM) Split Second (1953/1h 25m/Suspense/Dick Powell)
(2:00PM) The Young Philadelphians (1959/2h 16m/Drama/Vincent Sherman)
(4:30PM) The Horn Blows at Midnight (1945/1h 20m/Comedy/Raoul Walsh)
(6:00PM) The Constant Nymph (1943/1h 52m/Romance/Edmund Goulding)
(10:30PM) Suddenly, Last Summer (1960/1h 54m/Drama/Joseph L. Mankiewicz)
FRI JUN 09
(12:45AM) The Philadelphia Story (1940/1h 51m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(3:00AM) Woman of the Year (1942/1h 52m/Comedy//George Stevens)
(5:00AM) Alice Adams (1935/1h 40m/Comedy/George Stevens)
(7:00AM) Enchanted Island (1958/1h 33m/Drama/Allan Dwan)
(8:45AM) The Great Heart (1938/0h 10m/Short/David Miller)
(9:00AM) Palm Springs Weekend (1963/1h 40m/Comedy/Norman Taurog)
(10:45AM) Having a Wild Weekend (1965/1h 31m/Musical/John Boorman)
(12:30PM) Don't Make Waves (1967/1h 37m/Comedy/Alexander Mackendrick)
(2:15PM) Lord of the Flies (1963/1h 30m/Drama/Peter Brook)
(4:00PM) Kona Coast (1968/1h 32m/Suspense/Lamont Johnson)
(5:45PM) The Last Of Sheila (1973/2h 0h/Suspense/Herbert Ross)
(8:00PM) Written on the Wind (1957/1h 32m/Drama/Douglas Sirk)
(9:45PM) Valley of the Dolls (1967/2h 2m/Drama/Mark Robson)
SAT JUN 10
(12:00AM) Love Has Many Faces (1965/1h 45m/Romance/Alexander Singer)
(2:00AM) Queen Bee (1955/1h 35m/Drama/Ranald Macdougall)
(3:45AM) The Bad Seed (1956/2h 9m/Suspense/Mervyn Leroy)
(6:00AM) Two Weeks in Another Town (1962/1h 47m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: Innertube Antics (1944/0h 7m/Animation/George Gordon)
(8:09AM) New Roadways (1939/0h 9m/Short/Basil Wrangell)
(8:20AM) St. Helena and its "Man of Destiny" (1936/0h 7m/Short/?)
(8:29AM) The Adventures of Jane Arden (1939/0h 58m/Crime/Terry Morse)
(9:30AM) THE BATMAN: The Doom of the Rising Sun) 1943/0h 20m/Serial/Lambert Hillyer)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Popeye for President (1956/0h 6m/Animation/Seymour Kneitel)
(10:08AM) The Dragon Murder Case (1934/1h 8m/Mystery/H. Bruce Humberstone)
(11:30AM) Know Your Money (1940/0h 21m/Short/Joe Newman)
(12:00PM) The Merry Widow (1934/1h 39m/Musical/Ernst Lubitsch)
(1:45PM) Adam's Rib (1949/1h 41m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(3:45PM) Kings Row (1942/2h 7m/Drama/Sam Wood)
(6:00PM) The Cincinnati Kid (1965/1h 53m/Drama/Norman Jewison)
(8:00PM) Gilda Live (1980/1h 30m/Comedy/Mike Nichols)
(9:45PM) Valerie (2019/0h 36m/Documentary/Stacey Souther)
(10:30PM) Lenny (1974/1h 51m/Adaptation/Bob Fosse)
SUN JUN 11
(12:30AM) The Verdict (1946/1h 26m/Film-NoiDon Siegel)
(2:30AM) A Hard Day's Night (1964/1h 32m/Musical//Richard Lester)
(4:15AM) Viva Las Vegas (1964/1h 26m/Musical/George Sidney)
(6:00AM) The Cool Ones (1967/1h 38m/Musical/Gene Nelson)
(8:00AM) I Love You, Alice B. Toklas! (1968/1h 34m/Comedy/Hy Averback)
(10:00AM) The Verdict (1946/1h 26m/Film-NoiDon Siegel)
(11:45AM) Wait Until Dark (1967/1h 48m/Suspense/Terence Young)
(1:45PM) The Catered Affair (1956/1h 33m/Drama/Richard Brooks)
(3:30PM) The Damned Don't Cry (1950/1h 43m/Crime/Vincent Sherman)
(5:30PM) Flower Drum Song (1961/2h 13m/Musical/Henry Koster)
(8:00PM) The Three Musketeers (1973/1h 45m/Adventure/Richard Lester)
(10:00PM) One Million Years B. C. (1966/1h 31m/Fantasy/Don Chaffey)
MON JUN 12
(12:15AM) The Cameraman (1928/1h 18m/Silent/Edward Sedgwick)
(12:15AM The Navigator (1924/1h 20m/Silent/Donald Crisp)
(2:45AM) The Bad Sleep Well (1960/2h 15m/Suspense/Akira Kurosawa)
(5:15AM) Ikiru (1952/2h 23m/Drama/Akira Kurosawa)
(7:45AM) The Marshal of Mesa City (1939/1h 2m/Western/David Howard)
(9:00AM) Party Girl (1958/1h 39m/Crime/Nicholas Ray)
(10:45AM) The Big Shot (1942/1h 22m/Crime/Lewis Seiler)
(12:15PM) The Racket (1951/1h 28m/Crime/John Cromwell
(1:45PM) Jack Pot (1940/0h 19m/Short/Roy Rowland)
(2:15PM) Wichita (1955/1h 21m/Western/Jacques Tourneur)
(3:45PM) Buyer Beware (1940/0h 21m/Crime/Joseph Newman)
(4:15PM) A Lion Is in the Streets (1953/1h 28m/Drama/Raoul Walsh)
(6:00PM) McQ (1974/1h 56m/Crime/John Sturges)
(8:00PM) Born Yesterday (1950/1h 43m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(10:00PM) The Solid Gold Cadillac (1956/1h 39m/Comedy/Richard Quine)
TUE JUN 13
(12:00AM) Phffft (1954/1h 31m/Comedy/Mark Robson)
(1:45AM) Full of Life (1957/1h 31m/Comedy/Richard Quine)
(3:30AM) Bells Are Ringing (1960/2h 7m/Musical/Vincente Minnelli)
(6:00AM) The Bishop Murder Case (1930/1h 28m/Mystery/David Burton)
(7:30AM) The Lady of Scandal (1930/1h 16m/Romance/Sidney Franklin)
(9:00AM) Sin Takes a Holiday (1930/1h 21m/Comedy/Paul Stein)
(10:30AM) The Last Days of Pompeii (1935/1h 36m/Drama/Ernest B. Schoedsack)
(12:15PM) A Tale of Two Cities (1935/2h 0h/Drama/Jack Conway)
(2:30PM) Romeo and Juliet (1937/2h 7m/Romance/George Cukor)
(4:45PM) The Dawn Patrol (1938/1h 43m/WaEdmund Goulding)
(6:45PM) The Woman in Green (1945/1h 8m/Mystery/Roy William Neill)
(8:00PM) Sunset Blvd. (1950/1h 51m/Drama/Billy Wilder)
10:00PM) In a Lonely Place (1950/1h 31m/Drama/Nicholas Ray)
WED JUN 14
(12:00AM) The Player (1992/2h 3m/Comedy/Robert Altman)
(2:15AM) Crashing Hollywood (1938/1h 1m/Comedy/Lew Landers)
(3:30AM) Boy Meets Girl (1938/1h 20m/Comedy/Lloyd Bacon)
(5:15AM) Best Friends (1982/1h 56m/Comedy/Norman Jewison)
(7:15AM) Pat and Mike (1952/1h 35m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(9:00AM) How I Play Golf, by Bobby Jones No. 8: 'The Brassie' (1931/0h 10m/Short/George Marshall)
(9:15AM) The Great American Pastime (1956/1h 29m/Comedy/Herman Hoffman)
(11:00AM) Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956/1h 53m/Drama/Robert Wise)
(1:00PM) The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh (1979/1h 44m/Comedy/Gilbert Moses)
(3:00PM) Greased Lightning (1977/1h 36m/Biography/Michael Schultz)
(4:45PM) Grand Prix (1966/2h 59m/Adventure/John Frankenheimer)
(8:00PM) Carl Laemmle (2019/1h 31m/Documentary/James L. Freedman)
(9:45PM) Oscar Micheaux: The Superhero of Black Filmmaking (2021/h 20m/Documentary/Francesco Zippel)
(11:15PM) Burden of Dreams (1982/1h 34m/Documentary/Les Blank)
THU JUN 15
(1:00AM) A Fuller Life (2013/1h 20m/Documentary/Samantha Fuller)
(2:30AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 05) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(3:45AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 06) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(5:00AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 07) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(6:15AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 08) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(7:30AM) The True Adventures of Raoul Walsh (2014/1h 35m/Documentary/Marilyn Ann Moss)
(9:15AM) Escape From East Berlin (1962/1h 34m/Drama/Robert Siodmak)
(11:00AM) The League of Gentlemen (1960/1h 56m/Crime/Basil Dearden)
(1:00PM) Double Trouble (1967/1h 30m/Musical/Norman Taurog)
(2:45PM) Light in the Piazza (1962/1h 41m/Romance/Guy Green)
(4:30PM) Murder She Said (1961/1h 26m/Mystery/George Pollock)
(6:00PM) Made in Paris (1966/1h 43m/Comedy/Boris Sagal)
(8:00PM) Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967/1h 48m/Comedy/Stanley Kramer)
(10:00PM) The Lion in Winter (1968/2h 14m/Drama/Anthony Harvey)
FRI JUN 16
(12:30AM) On Golden Pond (1981/1h 49m/Drama/Mark Rydell)
(2:30AM) Morning Glory (1933/1h 14m/Drama/Lowell Sherman)
(4:00AM) Lovely To Look At (1952/1h 45m/Musical/Mervyn Le Roy)
(6:00AM) Possessed (1931/1h 12m/Romance//Clarence Brown)
(7:30AM) Anna Karenina (1935/1h 35m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(9:30AM) Wife Vs. Secretary (1936/1h 28m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(11:0AM) Of Human Hearts (1938/1h 40m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(1:00PM) Song of Love (1947/1h 59m/Western/Clarence Brown)
(3:15PM) Intruder in the Dust (1949/1h 29m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(4:45PM) To Please a Lady (1950/1h 31m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(6:30PM) When in Rome (1952/1h 18m/Drama/DirectoClarence Brown)
(8:00PM) Beach Blanket Bingo (1965/1h 38m/Musical/William Asher)
(9:45PM) Barbarella (1968/1h 38m/Sci-Fi/Roger Vadim)
(11:30PM) Earth Girls Are Easy (1988/1h 40m/Comedy/Julien Temple)
SAT JUN 17
(1:15AM) The Apple (1980/1h 32m/Musical/Menahem Golan)
(2:45AM) Queen of Outer Space (1958/1h 20m/Sci-Fi/Edward Bernds)
(4:15AM) Hercules, Samson & Ulysses (1963/1h 25m/Adventure/Pietro Francisci)
(5:45AM) Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959/1h 19m/HorroEdward D. Wood, Jr.)
(7:15AM) MGM Parade Show #5 (1955/0h 25m/Documentary/?)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: Early Bird and the Worm (1936/0h 9m/Short/Rudolf Ising)
(8:11AM) Microscopic Mysteries (1932/0h 9m/Documentary/Hugo Lund)
(8:21AM) Zion Canyon of Colour (1934/0h 7m/Short/?)
(8:30AM) Central Park (1932/0h 58m/Comedy/John G. Adolfi)
(9:30AM) BATMAN AND ROBIN: Batman Takes Over (1949/0h 27m/Serial/Spencer Gordon Bennet)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Out to Punch (1956/0h 6m/Animation/?)
(10:08AM) The Garden Murder Case (1936/1h 2m/Mystery/Edwin L. Marin)
(11:30AM) Trial by Trigger (1944/0h 21m/Short/William McGann)
(12:00PM) Reveille with Beverly (1943/1h 18m/Musical/Charles Barton)
(1:30PM) How the West Was Won (1962/2h 35m/Western/John Ford)
(4:30PM) Kansas City Confidential (1952/1h 38m/Crime/Phil Karlson)
(6:15PM) Badlands (1973/1h 35m/Crime/Terrence Malick)
(8:00PM) Time After Time (1979/1h 52m/HorroNicholas Meyer)
(10:00PM) Repeat Performance (1947/1h 33m/Drama/Alfred Werker)
SUN JUN 18
(12:00AM) Flaxy Martin (1949/1h 26m/Film-NoiRichard Bare)
(2:00AM) The Great Santini (1979/1h 55m/Drama/Lewis John Carlino)
(4:00AM) I Never Sang for My Father (1970/1h 30m/Drama/Gilbert Cates)
(6:00AM) The Impossible Years (1968/1h 38m/Comedy/Michael Gordon)
(8:00AM) Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (1945/1h 45m/Drama/Roy Rowland)
(10:00AM) Flaxy Martin (1949/1h 26m/Film-NoiRichard Bare)
(11:45AM) Fiddler on the Roof (1971/3h 0m/Musical/Norman Jewison)
(3:00PM) To Kill a Mockingbird (1962/2h 11m/Drama/Robert Mulligan)
(5:30PM) The Courtship of Eddie's Father (1963/1h 57m/Comedy/Vincente Minnelli)
(7:45PM) So You're Going to Be a Father (1947/0h 10m/Short/Richard Bare)
(8:00PM) Life with Father (1947/1h 58m/Comedy/Michael Curtiz)
(10:15PM) Father of the Bride (1950/1h 33m/Comedy/Vincente Minnelli)
MON JUN 19
(12:00AM) The Divine Lady (1929/1h 50m/Romance/Frank Lloyd)
(2:00AM) Bay of the Angels (1964/1h 25m/Drama/Jacques Demy)
(3:45AM) Donkey Skin (1970/1h 30m/Drama/Jacques Demy)
(5:30AM) MGM Parade Show #5 (1955/25m/Documentary/?)
(6:00AM) Man Wanted (1932/William Dieterle)
(7:15AM) Millie (1931/1h 25m/Drama/John Francis Dillon)
(8:45AM) The Big Hangover (1950/1h 22m/Comedy/Norman Krasna)
(10:15AM) The Angel Wore Red (1960/1h 39m/Romance/Nunnally Johnson)
(12:00PM) Rancho Notorious (1952/1h 29m/Western/Fritz Lang)
(1:45PM) They Live by Night (1948/1h 35m/Crime/Nicholas Ray)
(3:30PM) Pitfall (1948/1h 24m/Film-NoiAndre De Toth)
(5:00PM) Indiscretion of an American Wife (1954/1h 3m/Romance/Vittorio De Sica)
(6:15PM) Tab Hunter Confidential (2015/1h 30m/Biography/Jeffrey Schwarz)
(8:00PM) Do the Right Thing (1989/2h 0m/Drama/Spike Lee)
(10:15PM) Alma's Rainbow (1994/1h 25m/Drama /Ayoka Chenzira)
TUE JUN 20
(12:00AM) Just Another Girl On The I.R.T. (1993/1h 36m/Drama/Leslie Harris)
(2:00AM) Blackboard Jungle (1955/1h 41m/Drama/Richard Brooks)
(4:00AM) Edge of the City (1957/1h 25m/Drama/Martin Ritt)
(6:00AM) The Lady Refuses (1931/1h 12m/Drama/George Archainbaud)
(7:15AM) A Notorious Affair (1930/1h 9m/Drama/Lloyd Bacon)
(8:30AM) Bullets for O'Hara (1941/0h 50m/Crime/William K. Howard)
(9:30AM) No Marriage Ties (1933/1h 5m/Drama/J. Walter Ruben)
(10:45AM) Play Girl (1932/1h 0m/Romance/Ray Enright)
(12:00PM) War Nurse (1930/1h 20m/WaEdgar Selwyn)
(1:30PM) Wings for the Eagle (1942/1h 23m/WaLloyd Bacon)
(3:00PM) The White Sister (1933/1h 41m/Drama/Victor Fleming)
(5:00PM) Their Own Desire (1929/1h 5m/Drama/E. Mason Hopper)
(6:15PM) Smilin' Through (1932/1h 37m/Romance/Sidney Franklin)
(8:00PM) Sullivan's Travels (1942/1h 31m/Comedy/Preston Sturges)
(9:45PM) Bombshell (1933/1h 31m/Comedy/Victor Fleming)
(11:30PM) Hearts of the West (1975/1h 43m/Western/Howard Zieff)
WED JUN 21
(1:30AM) Never Give a Sucker an Even Break (1941/1h 11m/Comedy/Edward Cline)
(3:00AM) It's a Great Feeling (1949/1h 25m/Comedy/David Butler)
(4:30AM) Hollywood Party (1934/1h 3m/Musical/Allan Dwan)
(6:00AM) The Runaway Bus (1954/1h 18m/Comedy/Val Guest)
(7:15AM) Journey for Margaret (1942/1h 21m/Drama/Major W. S. Van Dyke II)
(8:45AM) The Time Machine (1960/1h 43m/Sci-Fi/George Pal)
(10:30AM) Looking at London (1946/0h 10m/Short/?)
(10:45AM) Berkeley Square (1933/1h 24m/Romance/Frank Lloyd)
(12:15PM) High Hopes (1988/1h 52m/Comedy/Mike Leigh)
(2:15PM) A Hard Day's Night (1964/1h 32m/Musical/Richard Lester)
(4:00PM) Royal Wedding (1951/1h 33m/Musical/Stanley Donen)
(5:45PM) The V.I.P.s (1963/1h 59m/Drama/Anthony Asquith)
(8:00PM) Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession (2004/2h 2m/Documentary/Xan Cassavetes)
(10:15PM) What She Said: The Art of Pauline Kael (2018/Documentary/Rob Garver)
THU JUN 22
(12:00AM) The Celluloid Closet (1995/1h 42m/Documentary/Robert Epstein)
(2:00AM) Paul Robeson: Tribute to an Artist (1979/Biography/Documentary/Saul J. Turell)
(2:30AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 09) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(3:45AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 10) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(5:00AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 11) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(6:15AM) Yellowface: Asian Whitewashing and Racism in Hollywood (2019/Documentary/Clara Kuperberg and Julia Kuperberg)
(7:15AM) Soundies: A Musical History (2007/1h 16m/Documentary/0h 54m/Chris Lamson)
(8:45AM) Soldiers Three (1951/1h 27m/Adventure/Tay Garnett)
(10:30AM) The Wild North (1952/1h 37m/Western/Andrew Marton)
(12:15PM) Bhowani Junction (1956/1h 50m/Drama/George Cukor)
(2:15PM) Green Fire (1955/1h 40m/Adventure/Andrew Marton)
(4:00PM) The Prisoner of Zenda (1952/1h 41m/Adventure/Richard Thorpe)
(6:00PM) King Solomon's Mines (1950/1h 42m/Adventure/Compton Bennett)
(8:00PM) Holiday (1938/1h 33m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(10:00PM) Little Women (1933/1h 55m/Drama/George Cukor)
FRI JUN 23
(12:15AM) A Woman Rebels (1936/1h 28m/Drama/Mark Sandrich)
(2:00AM) Undercurrent (1946/1h 56m/Suspense/Vincente Minnelli)
(4:15AM) Stage Door (1937/1h 23m/Drama/Gregory LaCava)
(6:00AM) A King in New York (1957/1h 45m/Comedy/Charles Chaplin)
(8:00AM) Girlfriends (1978/1h 26m/Comedy/Claudia Weill)
(9:30AM) The Naked City (1948/1h 36m/Crime/Jules Dassin)
(11:15AM) Up the Sandbox (1972/1h 37/Drama/Irvin Kershner)
(1:00PM) The House on 56th Street (1933/1h 8m/Drama/Robert Florey)
(2:15PM) This Is the Bowery (1941/0h 10m/Short/Gunther Von Fritsch)
(2:3PM) The Prisoner Of Second Avenue (1974/1h 45m/Comedy/Melvin Frank)
(4:15PM) Soylent Green (1973/1h 27m/Sci-Fi/Richard O. Fleischer)
(6:00PM) Daybreak Express (1953/0h 5m/Short/D.A. Pennebaker)
(6:15PM) Crossing Delancey (1988/1h 37m/Romance/Joan Micklin Silver)
(8:00PM) Grey Gardens (1976/1h 34m/Documentary/Ellen Hovde)
(9:45PM) What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962/2h 12m/HorroRobert Aldrich)
SAT JUN 24
12:15AM) X Y & Zee (1972/1h 50m/Drama/Brian G. Hutton)
(2:15AM) The Big Cube (1969/1h 38m/Drama/Tito Davison)
(4:00AM) The Legend of Lylah Clare (1968/2h 10m/Drama/Robert Aldrich)
(6:15AM) Vacation from Marriage (1945/1h 32m/Drama/Alexander Korda)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: Dumb-Hounded (1943/0h 8m/Animation/Fred “Tex” Avery)
(8:10AM) Pacific Paradise (1937/0h 10m/Short/George Sidney)
(8:21AM) Calling on Colombia (1940/0h 8m/Documentary/James A. Fitzpatrick)
(8:30AM) Once a Doctor (1937/0h 57m/Drama/William Clemens)
(9:30AM) BATMAN AND ROBIN: Tunnel of Terror (1949/0h 17m/Serial/Spencer Bennett)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Insect to Injury (1956/0h 6m/Animation/Dave Tendlar)
(10:08AM) Murder in the Private Car (1934/1h 3m/Mystery/Harry Beaumont)
(11:30AM) The Flame Song (1934/0h 21m/Short/Joseph Henabery)
(12:00PM) A Star Is Born (1954/2h 56m/Musical/George Cukor)
(3:15PM) East of Eden (1955/1h 55m/Drama/Elia Kazan)
(5:30PM) Mister Roberts (1955/2h 3m/Comedy/John Ford)
(8:00PM) On the Waterfront (1954/1h 48m/Drama/Elia Kazan)
(10:00PM) Vertigo (1958/2h 8m/Suspense/Alfred Hitchcock)
SUN JUN 25
(12:15AM) Storm Warning (1951/1h 33m/Film-NoiStuart Heisler)
(2:15AM) A Cry in the Dark (1988/2h 1m/Drama/Fred Schepisi)
(4:30AM) My Brilliant Career (1979/1h 38m/Drama/Gillian Armstrong)
(6:15AM) Athena (1954/1h 36m/Musical/Richard Thorpe)
(8:00AM) Calamity Jane (1953/1h 41m/Musical/David Butler)
(10:00AM) Storm Warning (1951/1h 33m/Film-NoiStuart Heisler)
(12:00PM) Imitation of Life (1959/2h 5m/Romance/Douglas Sirk)
(2:15PM) Pride and Prejudice (1940/1h 57m/Romance/Robert Z. Leonard)
(4:30PM) The Reluctant Debutante (1958/1h 36m/Musical/Vincente Minnelli)
(6:15PM) The Palm Beach Story (1942/1h 30m/Comedy/Preston Sturges)
TBD
MON JUN 26
(12:00AM) Don Juan (1926/1h 51m/Silent/Alan Crosland)
(2:00AM) Un Partie de Campagne (1936/0h 45m/Drama/Jean Renoir)
(3:00AM) Il bidone (1955/1h 32m/Comedy/Federico Fellini)
(5:00AM) Report from the Aleutians (1943/0h 45m/Documentary/Capt. John Huston)
(6:00AM) Many Rivers to Cross (1955/1h 32m/Western/Roy Rowland)
(7:45AM) Escape from Fort Bravo (1953/1h 38m/Western/John Sturges)
(9:30AM) The Very Thought of You (1944/1h 39m/Romance/Delmer Daves)
(11:15AM) One for the Book (1948/1h 43m/Comedy/Irving Rapper)
(1:00PM) Of Human Bondage (1946/1h 45m/Drama/Edmund Goulding)
(3:00PM) Lizzie (1957/1h 21m/Drama/Hugo Haas)
(4:30PM) Valley of the Kings (1954/1h 26m/Adventure/Robert Pirosh)
(6:00PM) Scaramouche (1952/1h 55m/Adventure/George Sidney)
(8:00PM) The Celluloid Closet (1995/1h 42m/DocumentaryRobert Epstein)
(10:00PM) Rope (1948/1h 20m/Suspense/Alfred Hitchcock)
(11:30PM) The Children's Hour (1961/1h 47m/Drama/William Wyler)
TUE JUN 27
(1:30AM) Queen Christina (1933/1h 37m/Romance/Rouben Mamoulian)
(3:30AM) Victim (1961/1h 40m/Drama/Basil Dearden)
(5:30AM) Tea and Sympathy (1956/2h 2m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(7:45AM) The Case of the Howling Dog (1934/1h 14m/Suspense/Mystery/Alan Crosland)
(9:15AM) Murder on a Bridle Path (1936/1h 6m/Mystery/Edward Killy)
(10:30AM) The Saint Meets the Tiger (1943/1h 10m/Suspense/Paul Stein)
(12:00PM) The Kennel Murder Case (1933/1h 13m/Mystery/Michael Curtiz)
(1:30PM) Haunted Honeymoon (1940/1h 23m/Comedy/Arthur B. Woods)
(3:00PM) Eyes in the Night (1942/1h 20m/Mystery/Fred Zinnemann)
(4:30PM) Murder at the Gallop (1963/1h 21m/Mystery/George Pollock)
(6:00PM) Shadow of the Thin Man (1941/1h 37m/Mystery/Major W. S. Van Dyke II)
(8:00PM) The Bad and the Beautiful (1952/1h 58m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(10:15PM) Two Weeks in Another Town (1962/1h 47m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
WED JUN 28j
(12:15AM) The Barefoot Contessa (1954/2h 8m/Drama/Joseph L. Mankiewicz)
(2:45AM) Inside Daisy Clover (1965/2h 8m/Drama/Robert Mulligan)
(5:00AM) The Oscar (1966/1h 59m/Drama/Russell Rouse)
(7:15AM) Mandalay (1934/1h 5m/Suspense/Michael Curtiz)
(8:30AM) The Unsuspected (1947/1h 43m/Suspense/Michael Curtiz)
(10:15AM) The Unholy Wife (1957/1h 34m/Crime/John Farrow)
(12:00PM) Back in Circulation (1937/1h 22m/Drama/Ray Enright)
(1:30PM) The Man with a Cloak (1951/1h 21m/Suspense/Fletcher Markle)
(3:00PM) D.O.A. (1950/1h 23m/Film-NoiRudolph Maté)
(4:30PM) Shadow on the Wall (1950/1h 24m/Suspense/Patrick Jackson)
(6:15PM) The Nanny (1965/1h 33m/HorroSeth Holt)
(8:00PM) Harold and Lillian: A Hollywood Love Story (2015/1h 34m/Documentary/Daniel Raim)
(9:45PM) By Design: The Joe Caroff Story (2022/0h 52m/Documentary/Mark Cerulli)
(10:45PM) Floyd Norman: An Animated Life (2016/1h 34m/Documentary/Michael Fiore)
TBD
THU JUNE 29
(2:00AM) High Noon on the Waterfront (2022/0h 14m/Documentary/David Roberts)
(2:30AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Ep. 12) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(3:45AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Ep.13) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(5:00AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Ep. 14) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins
(6:15AM) Max Steiner: Maestro of Movie Music (2021/2h 0m/Documentary/Diana Friedberg)
(8:30AM) Dean Martin: King of Cool (2020/1h 47m/Documentary/Tom Donahue)
(10:30AM) Tarzan, the Ape Man (1932/1h 39m/Adventure/W. S. Van Dyke)
(12:15PM) Tarzan the Fearless (1933/1h 25m/Adventure/Robert F. Hill)
(1:45PM) The Valley of Decision (1945/1h 51m/Romance/Tay Garnett)
(3:45PM) Mrs. Parkington (1944/2h 4m/Romance/Tay Garnett)
(6:00PM) The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946/1h 51m/Crime/Tay Garnett)
(8:00PM) Desk Set (1957/1h 43m/Comedy/Walter Lang)
(10:00PM) Without Love (1945/1h 51m/Comedy/Harold S. Bucquet)
FRI JUN 30
(12:00AM) Pat and Mike (1952/1h 35m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(1:45AM) Adam's Rib (1949/1h 41m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(3:45AM) Keeper of the Flame (1943/1h 40m/Drama/George Cukor)
(5:30AM) Week-End for Three (1941/1h 5m/Comedy/Irving Reis)
(6:45AM) MGM Parade Show #5 (1955/0h 25m/Documentary/?)
(7:30AM) Pagan Love Song (1950/1h 16m/Musical/Robert Alton)
(9:00AM) On an Island with You (1948/1h 47m/Musical/Richard Thorpe)
(11:00AM) Girl Happy (1965/1h 36m/Musical/Boris Sagal)
(12:45PM) You're Only Young Once (1938/1h 18m/Comedy/George B. Seitz)
(2:15PM) Catalina Caper (1967/1h 7m/Comedy/Lee Sholem)
(3:30PM) Where the Boys Are (1960/1h 39m/Comedy/Henry Levin)
(5:30PM) Sunkist Stars at Palm Springs (1936/0h 19m/Short/Roy Rowland)
(6:00PM) Palm Springs Weekend (1963/1h 40m/Comedy/Norman Taurog)
(8:00PM) VictoVictoria (1982/2h 14m/Musical/Blake Edwards)
(10:30PM) La Cage Aux Folles (1979/1h 37m/Comedy//Edouard Molinaro)
submitted by yawningvoid28 to movies [link] [comments]
(1:30AM) The Girl Who Had Everything (1953/1h 9m/Drama/Richard Thorpe)
(2:45AM) It's a Big Country: An American Anthology (1952/1h 29m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(4:30AM) Alias a Gentleman (1948/1h 16m/Comedy/Harry Beaumont)
(6:00AM) Showgirl in Hollywood (1930/1h 20m/Musical/Mervyn Le Roy)
(7:30AM) Bright Lights (1931/1h 9m/Musical/Michael Curtiz)
(8:45AM) Cain and Mabel (1936/1h 30m/Romance/Lloyd Bacon)
(10:30AM) Marked Woman (1937/1h 36m/Drama/Lloyd Bacon)
(12:15PM) Ziegfeld Girl (1941/2h 11m/Musical/Robert Z. Leonard)
(2:45PM) The Prince and the Showgirl (1957/1h 57m/Comedy/Laurence Olivier)
(4:45PM) Party Girl (1958/1h 39m/Crime/Nicholas Ray)
(6:30PM) Viva Las Vegas (1964/1h 26m/Musical/George Sidney)
(8:00PM) Bringing Up Baby (1938/1h 42m/Comedy/Howard Hawk)
(10:00PM) Break of Hearts (1935/1h 20m/Romance/Philip Moeller)
(11:30PM) Sylvia Scarlett (1935/1h 37m/Romance/George Cukor)
(1:15AM) Mary of Scotland (1936/2h 3m/Romance/John Ford)
(3:30AM) Quality Street (1937/1h 24m/Comedy/George Stevens)
(5:00AM) Christopher Strong (1933/1h 17m/Romance/Dorothy Arzner)
(6:30AM) The Little Minister (1934/1h 50m/Romance/Richard Wallace)
(8:30AM) Spitfire (1934/1h 28m/Drama/John Cromwell)
(10:00AM) Blood on the Moon (1948/1h 28m/Western/Robert Wise)
(11:30AM) The Good Guys and the Bad Guys (1969/1h 31m/Comedy/Burt Kennedy)
(1:15PM) Desire Me (1947/1h 31m/Romance/George Cukor)
(3:00PM) Holiday Affair (1949/1h 27m/Romance/Don Hartman)
(4:30PM) Angel Face (1953/1h 31m/Crime/Otto Preminger)
(6:15PM) Out of the Past (1947/1h 37m/Film-NoiJacques Tourneur)
(8:00PM) She Done Him Wrong (1933/1h 6m/Comedy/Lowell Sherman)
(9:30PM) The Gang's All Here (1943/1h 43m/Musical/Busby Berkeley)
(11:30PM) The Importance Of Being Earnest (1952/1h 35m/Comedy/Anthony Asquith)
(1:15AM) Pillow Talk (1959/1h 45m/Comedy/Michael Gordon)
(3:15AM) Auntie Mame (1958/2h 23m/Comedy//Morton DaCosta)
(5:45AM) The Women (1939/2h 12m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: The Homeless Flea (1940/0h 7m/Animation/Rudolf Ising)
(8:09AM) One Against the World (1939/0h 10m/Short/Fred Zinnemann)
(8:21AM) Zeeland "The Hidden Paradise" (1935/0h 6m/Short/Ruth Fitzpatrick)
(8:29AM) The Big Noise (1936/57m/Drama/Frank Mcdonald)
(9:30AM) The BATMAN: The Executioner Strikes (1943/0h 15m/Serial/Lambert Hillyer)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Hill-Billing and Cooing (1956/0h 6m/Animation/Seymour Kneitel)
(10:08AM) Calling Philo Vance (1939/1h 2m/Suspense/William Clemens)
(11:30AM) Main Street Today (1944/0h 19m/Short/Edward L. Cahn)
(12:00PM) ABBA: The Movie (1977/1h 34m/Documentary/?)
(1:45PM) Hoosiers (1986/1h 55m/Drama/David Anspaugh)
(4:00PM) Angels in the Outfield (1951/1h 42m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(6:00PM) Strangers on a Train (1951/1h 36m/Suspense/Alfred Hitchcock)
(8:00PM) The Black Shield of Falworth (1954/1h 39m/Adventure/)
(10:00PM) The Great Impostor (1960/1h 52m/Adaptation/Robert Mulligan)
(12:00AM) Between Midnight and Dawn (1950/1h 29m/Film-NoiGordon Douglas)
(2:00AM) Swing Shift (1984/1h 40m/Romance/Jonathan Demme)
(4:00AM) Protocol (1984/1h 36m/Comedy/Herbert Ross)
(6:00AM) Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960/1h 30m/Drama/Karel Reisz)
(7:45AM) The Loved One (1965/1h 56m/Comedy/Tony Richardson)
(10:00AM) Between Midnight and Dawn (1950/1h 29m/Film-NoiGordon Douglas)
(12:00PM) Born Yesterday (1950/1h 43m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(2:00PM) The Mating Game (1959/1h 37m/Comedy/George Marshall)
(3:45PM) Sex and the Single Girl (1964/1h 54m/Comedy/Richard Quine)
(5:45PM) A Chorus Line (1985/1h 53m/Musical/Richard Attenborough)
(8:00PM) Blazing Saddles (1974/1h 33m/Western/Mel Brooks)
(10:00PM) Along Came Jones (1945/1h 30m/Western/Stuart Heisler)
(12:00AM) The Blackbird (1926/1h 26m/Tod Browning)
(2:00AM) Before the Rain (1994/1h 55m/WaMilcho Manchevski)
(4:00AM) Three Colors: White (1994/1h 30m/Drama/Krzysztof Kieslowski)
(6:00AM) June Bride (1948/1h 37m/Romance/Bretaigne Windust)
(8:00AM) Royal Wedding (1951/1h 33m/Musical/Stanley Donen)
(10:00AM) Father of the Bride (1950/1h 33m/Comedy/Vincente Minnelli)
(12:00PM) Double Wedding (1937/1h 27m/Comedy/Richard Thorpe)
(2:00PM) The Bride Came C.O.D. (1941/1h 32m/Comedy/William Keighley)
(4:00PM) Father of the Bride (1991/1h 45m/Comedy/Charles Shyer)
(6:00PM) High Society (1956/1h 47m/Musical/Charles Walters)
(8:00PM) High Sierra (1941/1h 40m/Crime/Raoul Walsh)
(10:00PM) Colorado Territory (1949/1h 34m/Western/Raoul Walsh)
(12:00AM) The Women (1939/2h 12m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(2:15AM) The Opposite Sex (1956/1h 57m/Musical/David Miller)
(4:15AM) The Bride Goes Wild (1948/1h 38m/Comedy/Norman Taurog)
(6:00AM) The Private Life of Don Juan (1934/1h 26m/Alexander Korda)
(7:30AM) The Life Of Jimmy Dolan (1933/1h 10m/Archie Mayo)
(9:00AM) The Mad Miss Manton (1938)1h 5m/Mystery/Leigh Jason)
(10:30AM) In the Cool of the Day (1963/1h 29m/Robert Stevens)
(12:00PM) The Bad and the Beautiful (1952/1h 58m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(2:00PM) Coma (1978/1h 53m/HorroMichael Crichton)
(4:00PM) The Clock (1945/1h 30m/Romance/Vincente Minnelli)
(5:45PM) Cabaret (1972/2h 4m/Musical/Bob Fosse)
(8:00PM) Singin' in the Rain (1952/1h 43m/Musical/Gene Kelly)
(10:00PM) A Star Is Born (1954/2h 56m/Musical/George Cukor)
(1:15AM) A Star Is Born (1937/1h 51m/Romance/William A. Wellman)
(3:15AM) What Price Hollywood? (1932/1h 28m/Drama/George Cukor)
(5:00AM) Show People (1928/1h 23m/Silent/King Vidor)
(6:30AM) Souls for Sale (1923/1h 30m/Rupert Hughes)
(8:15AM) Hell Below (1933/1h 45m/WaJack Conway)
(10:00AM) The Navy Comes Through (1942/1h 22m/WaA. Edward Sutherland)
(11:30AM) Sealed Cargo (1951/1h 29m/Adventure/Alfred Werker)
(1:00PM) Torpedo Run (1958/1h 38m/Joseph Pevney)
(2:45PM) Submarine D-1 (1937/1h 40m/Drama/Lloyd Bacon)
(4:30PM) Battle of the Coral Sea (1959/1h 20m/WaPaul Wendkos)
(6:00PM) Around the World Under the Sea (1965/1h 57m/HorroAndrew Marton)
(8:00PM) Film: The Living Record of Our Memory (2021/2h 0m/Documentary/Inés Toharia Terán)
(10:15PM) The Invention of Cinema: The First Colors of… (2022/Documentary)
(11:30PM) The Invention of Cinema: Cinema Finds its Voice (2022/Documentary)
(12:45AM) Going Attractions: The Definitive Story of the Movie Palace (2019/1h 24m/Documentary/April Wright)
(2:30AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 01) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(3:45AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 02) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(5:00AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 03) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(6:15AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 04) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(7:30AM) Image Makers: The Adventures of America's Pioneer Cinematographers (2019/1h 31m/Documentary/Daniel Raim)
(9:30AM) This is Francis X. Bushman (2021/1h 0m/Documentary/Lon Davis)
(10:45AM) The Doughgirls (1944/1h 42m/Comedy/James V. Kern)
(12:30PM) Split Second (1953/1h 25m/Suspense/Dick Powell)
(2:00PM) The Young Philadelphians (1959/2h 16m/Drama/Vincent Sherman)
(4:30PM) The Horn Blows at Midnight (1945/1h 20m/Comedy/Raoul Walsh)
(6:00PM) The Constant Nymph (1943/1h 52m/Romance/Edmund Goulding)
(10:30PM) Suddenly, Last Summer (1960/1h 54m/Drama/Joseph L. Mankiewicz)
(12:45AM) The Philadelphia Story (1940/1h 51m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(3:00AM) Woman of the Year (1942/1h 52m/Comedy//George Stevens)
(5:00AM) Alice Adams (1935/1h 40m/Comedy/George Stevens)
(7:00AM) Enchanted Island (1958/1h 33m/Drama/Allan Dwan)
(8:45AM) The Great Heart (1938/0h 10m/Short/David Miller)
(9:00AM) Palm Springs Weekend (1963/1h 40m/Comedy/Norman Taurog)
(10:45AM) Having a Wild Weekend (1965/1h 31m/Musical/John Boorman)
(12:30PM) Don't Make Waves (1967/1h 37m/Comedy/Alexander Mackendrick)
(2:15PM) Lord of the Flies (1963/1h 30m/Drama/Peter Brook)
(4:00PM) Kona Coast (1968/1h 32m/Suspense/Lamont Johnson)
(5:45PM) The Last Of Sheila (1973/2h 0h/Suspense/Herbert Ross)
(8:00PM) Written on the Wind (1957/1h 32m/Drama/Douglas Sirk)
(9:45PM) Valley of the Dolls (1967/2h 2m/Drama/Mark Robson)
(12:00AM) Love Has Many Faces (1965/1h 45m/Romance/Alexander Singer)
(2:00AM) Queen Bee (1955/1h 35m/Drama/Ranald Macdougall)
(3:45AM) The Bad Seed (1956/2h 9m/Suspense/Mervyn Leroy)
(6:00AM) Two Weeks in Another Town (1962/1h 47m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: Innertube Antics (1944/0h 7m/Animation/George Gordon)
(8:09AM) New Roadways (1939/0h 9m/Short/Basil Wrangell)
(8:20AM) St. Helena and its "Man of Destiny" (1936/0h 7m/Short/?)
(8:29AM) The Adventures of Jane Arden (1939/0h 58m/Crime/Terry Morse)
(9:30AM) THE BATMAN: The Doom of the Rising Sun) 1943/0h 20m/Serial/Lambert Hillyer)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Popeye for President (1956/0h 6m/Animation/Seymour Kneitel)
(10:08AM) The Dragon Murder Case (1934/1h 8m/Mystery/H. Bruce Humberstone)
(11:30AM) Know Your Money (1940/0h 21m/Short/Joe Newman)
(12:00PM) The Merry Widow (1934/1h 39m/Musical/Ernst Lubitsch)
(1:45PM) Adam's Rib (1949/1h 41m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(3:45PM) Kings Row (1942/2h 7m/Drama/Sam Wood)
(6:00PM) The Cincinnati Kid (1965/1h 53m/Drama/Norman Jewison)
(8:00PM) Gilda Live (1980/1h 30m/Comedy/Mike Nichols)
(9:45PM) Valerie (2019/0h 36m/Documentary/Stacey Souther)
(10:30PM) Lenny (1974/1h 51m/Adaptation/Bob Fosse)
(12:30AM) The Verdict (1946/1h 26m/Film-NoiDon Siegel)
(2:30AM) A Hard Day's Night (1964/1h 32m/Musical//Richard Lester)
(4:15AM) Viva Las Vegas (1964/1h 26m/Musical/George Sidney)
(6:00AM) The Cool Ones (1967/1h 38m/Musical/Gene Nelson)
(8:00AM) I Love You, Alice B. Toklas! (1968/1h 34m/Comedy/Hy Averback)
(10:00AM) The Verdict (1946/1h 26m/Film-NoiDon Siegel)
(11:45AM) Wait Until Dark (1967/1h 48m/Suspense/Terence Young)
(1:45PM) The Catered Affair (1956/1h 33m/Drama/Richard Brooks)
(3:30PM) The Damned Don't Cry (1950/1h 43m/Crime/Vincent Sherman)
(5:30PM) Flower Drum Song (1961/2h 13m/Musical/Henry Koster)
(8:00PM) The Three Musketeers (1973/1h 45m/Adventure/Richard Lester)
(10:00PM) One Million Years B. C. (1966/1h 31m/Fantasy/Don Chaffey)
(12:15AM) The Cameraman (1928/1h 18m/Silent/Edward Sedgwick)
(12:15AM The Navigator (1924/1h 20m/Silent/Donald Crisp)
(2:45AM) The Bad Sleep Well (1960/2h 15m/Suspense/Akira Kurosawa)
(5:15AM) Ikiru (1952/2h 23m/Drama/Akira Kurosawa)
(7:45AM) The Marshal of Mesa City (1939/1h 2m/Western/David Howard)
(9:00AM) Party Girl (1958/1h 39m/Crime/Nicholas Ray)
(10:45AM) The Big Shot (1942/1h 22m/Crime/Lewis Seiler)
(12:15PM) The Racket (1951/1h 28m/Crime/John Cromwell
(1:45PM) Jack Pot (1940/0h 19m/Short/Roy Rowland)
(2:15PM) Wichita (1955/1h 21m/Western/Jacques Tourneur)
(3:45PM) Buyer Beware (1940/0h 21m/Crime/Joseph Newman)
(4:15PM) A Lion Is in the Streets (1953/1h 28m/Drama/Raoul Walsh)
(6:00PM) McQ (1974/1h 56m/Crime/John Sturges)
(8:00PM) Born Yesterday (1950/1h 43m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(10:00PM) The Solid Gold Cadillac (1956/1h 39m/Comedy/Richard Quine)
(12:00AM) Phffft (1954/1h 31m/Comedy/Mark Robson)
(1:45AM) Full of Life (1957/1h 31m/Comedy/Richard Quine)
(3:30AM) Bells Are Ringing (1960/2h 7m/Musical/Vincente Minnelli)
(6:00AM) The Bishop Murder Case (1930/1h 28m/Mystery/David Burton)
(7:30AM) The Lady of Scandal (1930/1h 16m/Romance/Sidney Franklin)
(9:00AM) Sin Takes a Holiday (1930/1h 21m/Comedy/Paul Stein)
(10:30AM) The Last Days of Pompeii (1935/1h 36m/Drama/Ernest B. Schoedsack)
(12:15PM) A Tale of Two Cities (1935/2h 0h/Drama/Jack Conway)
(2:30PM) Romeo and Juliet (1937/2h 7m/Romance/George Cukor)
(4:45PM) The Dawn Patrol (1938/1h 43m/WaEdmund Goulding)
(6:45PM) The Woman in Green (1945/1h 8m/Mystery/Roy William Neill)
(8:00PM) Sunset Blvd. (1950/1h 51m/Drama/Billy Wilder)
10:00PM) In a Lonely Place (1950/1h 31m/Drama/Nicholas Ray)
(12:00AM) The Player (1992/2h 3m/Comedy/Robert Altman)
(2:15AM) Crashing Hollywood (1938/1h 1m/Comedy/Lew Landers)
(3:30AM) Boy Meets Girl (1938/1h 20m/Comedy/Lloyd Bacon)
(5:15AM) Best Friends (1982/1h 56m/Comedy/Norman Jewison)
(7:15AM) Pat and Mike (1952/1h 35m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(9:00AM) How I Play Golf, by Bobby Jones No. 8: 'The Brassie' (1931/0h 10m/Short/George Marshall)
(9:15AM) The Great American Pastime (1956/1h 29m/Comedy/Herman Hoffman)
(11:00AM) Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956/1h 53m/Drama/Robert Wise)
(1:00PM) The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh (1979/1h 44m/Comedy/Gilbert Moses)
(3:00PM) Greased Lightning (1977/1h 36m/Biography/Michael Schultz)
(4:45PM) Grand Prix (1966/2h 59m/Adventure/John Frankenheimer)
(8:00PM) Carl Laemmle (2019/1h 31m/Documentary/James L. Freedman)
(9:45PM) Oscar Micheaux: The Superhero of Black Filmmaking (2021/h 20m/Documentary/Francesco Zippel)
(11:15PM) Burden of Dreams (1982/1h 34m/Documentary/Les Blank)
(1:00AM) A Fuller Life (2013/1h 20m/Documentary/Samantha Fuller)
(2:30AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 05) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(3:45AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 06) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(5:00AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 07) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(6:15AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 08) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(7:30AM) The True Adventures of Raoul Walsh (2014/1h 35m/Documentary/Marilyn Ann Moss)
(9:15AM) Escape From East Berlin (1962/1h 34m/Drama/Robert Siodmak)
(11:00AM) The League of Gentlemen (1960/1h 56m/Crime/Basil Dearden)
(1:00PM) Double Trouble (1967/1h 30m/Musical/Norman Taurog)
(2:45PM) Light in the Piazza (1962/1h 41m/Romance/Guy Green)
(4:30PM) Murder She Said (1961/1h 26m/Mystery/George Pollock)
(6:00PM) Made in Paris (1966/1h 43m/Comedy/Boris Sagal)
(8:00PM) Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967/1h 48m/Comedy/Stanley Kramer)
(10:00PM) The Lion in Winter (1968/2h 14m/Drama/Anthony Harvey)
(12:30AM) On Golden Pond (1981/1h 49m/Drama/Mark Rydell)
(2:30AM) Morning Glory (1933/1h 14m/Drama/Lowell Sherman)
(4:00AM) Lovely To Look At (1952/1h 45m/Musical/Mervyn Le Roy)
(6:00AM) Possessed (1931/1h 12m/Romance//Clarence Brown)
(7:30AM) Anna Karenina (1935/1h 35m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(9:30AM) Wife Vs. Secretary (1936/1h 28m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(11:0AM) Of Human Hearts (1938/1h 40m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(1:00PM) Song of Love (1947/1h 59m/Western/Clarence Brown)
(3:15PM) Intruder in the Dust (1949/1h 29m/Drama/Clarence Brown)
(4:45PM) To Please a Lady (1950/1h 31m/Romance/Clarence Brown)
(6:30PM) When in Rome (1952/1h 18m/Drama/DirectoClarence Brown)
(8:00PM) Beach Blanket Bingo (1965/1h 38m/Musical/William Asher)
(9:45PM) Barbarella (1968/1h 38m/Sci-Fi/Roger Vadim)
(11:30PM) Earth Girls Are Easy (1988/1h 40m/Comedy/Julien Temple)
(1:15AM) The Apple (1980/1h 32m/Musical/Menahem Golan)
(2:45AM) Queen of Outer Space (1958/1h 20m/Sci-Fi/Edward Bernds)
(4:15AM) Hercules, Samson & Ulysses (1963/1h 25m/Adventure/Pietro Francisci)
(5:45AM) Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959/1h 19m/HorroEdward D. Wood, Jr.)
(7:15AM) MGM Parade Show #5 (1955/0h 25m/Documentary/?)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: Early Bird and the Worm (1936/0h 9m/Short/Rudolf Ising)
(8:11AM) Microscopic Mysteries (1932/0h 9m/Documentary/Hugo Lund)
(8:21AM) Zion Canyon of Colour (1934/0h 7m/Short/?)
(8:30AM) Central Park (1932/0h 58m/Comedy/John G. Adolfi)
(9:30AM) BATMAN AND ROBIN: Batman Takes Over (1949/0h 27m/Serial/Spencer Gordon Bennet)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Out to Punch (1956/0h 6m/Animation/?)
(10:08AM) The Garden Murder Case (1936/1h 2m/Mystery/Edwin L. Marin)
(11:30AM) Trial by Trigger (1944/0h 21m/Short/William McGann)
(12:00PM) Reveille with Beverly (1943/1h 18m/Musical/Charles Barton)
(1:30PM) How the West Was Won (1962/2h 35m/Western/John Ford)
(4:30PM) Kansas City Confidential (1952/1h 38m/Crime/Phil Karlson)
(6:15PM) Badlands (1973/1h 35m/Crime/Terrence Malick)
(8:00PM) Time After Time (1979/1h 52m/HorroNicholas Meyer)
(10:00PM) Repeat Performance (1947/1h 33m/Drama/Alfred Werker)
(12:00AM) Flaxy Martin (1949/1h 26m/Film-NoiRichard Bare)
(2:00AM) The Great Santini (1979/1h 55m/Drama/Lewis John Carlino)
(4:00AM) I Never Sang for My Father (1970/1h 30m/Drama/Gilbert Cates)
(6:00AM) The Impossible Years (1968/1h 38m/Comedy/Michael Gordon)
(8:00AM) Our Vines Have Tender Grapes (1945/1h 45m/Drama/Roy Rowland)
(10:00AM) Flaxy Martin (1949/1h 26m/Film-NoiRichard Bare)
(11:45AM) Fiddler on the Roof (1971/3h 0m/Musical/Norman Jewison)
(3:00PM) To Kill a Mockingbird (1962/2h 11m/Drama/Robert Mulligan)
(5:30PM) The Courtship of Eddie's Father (1963/1h 57m/Comedy/Vincente Minnelli)
(7:45PM) So You're Going to Be a Father (1947/0h 10m/Short/Richard Bare)
(8:00PM) Life with Father (1947/1h 58m/Comedy/Michael Curtiz)
(10:15PM) Father of the Bride (1950/1h 33m/Comedy/Vincente Minnelli)
(12:00AM) The Divine Lady (1929/1h 50m/Romance/Frank Lloyd)
(2:00AM) Bay of the Angels (1964/1h 25m/Drama/Jacques Demy)
(3:45AM) Donkey Skin (1970/1h 30m/Drama/Jacques Demy)
(5:30AM) MGM Parade Show #5 (1955/25m/Documentary/?)
(6:00AM) Man Wanted (1932/William Dieterle)
(7:15AM) Millie (1931/1h 25m/Drama/John Francis Dillon)
(8:45AM) The Big Hangover (1950/1h 22m/Comedy/Norman Krasna)
(10:15AM) The Angel Wore Red (1960/1h 39m/Romance/Nunnally Johnson)
(12:00PM) Rancho Notorious (1952/1h 29m/Western/Fritz Lang)
(1:45PM) They Live by Night (1948/1h 35m/Crime/Nicholas Ray)
(3:30PM) Pitfall (1948/1h 24m/Film-NoiAndre De Toth)
(5:00PM) Indiscretion of an American Wife (1954/1h 3m/Romance/Vittorio De Sica)
(6:15PM) Tab Hunter Confidential (2015/1h 30m/Biography/Jeffrey Schwarz)
(8:00PM) Do the Right Thing (1989/2h 0m/Drama/Spike Lee)
(10:15PM) Alma's Rainbow (1994/1h 25m/Drama /Ayoka Chenzira)
(12:00AM) Just Another Girl On The I.R.T. (1993/1h 36m/Drama/Leslie Harris)
(2:00AM) Blackboard Jungle (1955/1h 41m/Drama/Richard Brooks)
(4:00AM) Edge of the City (1957/1h 25m/Drama/Martin Ritt)
(6:00AM) The Lady Refuses (1931/1h 12m/Drama/George Archainbaud)
(7:15AM) A Notorious Affair (1930/1h 9m/Drama/Lloyd Bacon)
(8:30AM) Bullets for O'Hara (1941/0h 50m/Crime/William K. Howard)
(9:30AM) No Marriage Ties (1933/1h 5m/Drama/J. Walter Ruben)
(10:45AM) Play Girl (1932/1h 0m/Romance/Ray Enright)
(12:00PM) War Nurse (1930/1h 20m/WaEdgar Selwyn)
(1:30PM) Wings for the Eagle (1942/1h 23m/WaLloyd Bacon)
(3:00PM) The White Sister (1933/1h 41m/Drama/Victor Fleming)
(5:00PM) Their Own Desire (1929/1h 5m/Drama/E. Mason Hopper)
(6:15PM) Smilin' Through (1932/1h 37m/Romance/Sidney Franklin)
(8:00PM) Sullivan's Travels (1942/1h 31m/Comedy/Preston Sturges)
(9:45PM) Bombshell (1933/1h 31m/Comedy/Victor Fleming)
(11:30PM) Hearts of the West (1975/1h 43m/Western/Howard Zieff)
(1:30AM) Never Give a Sucker an Even Break (1941/1h 11m/Comedy/Edward Cline)
(3:00AM) It's a Great Feeling (1949/1h 25m/Comedy/David Butler)
(4:30AM) Hollywood Party (1934/1h 3m/Musical/Allan Dwan)
(6:00AM) The Runaway Bus (1954/1h 18m/Comedy/Val Guest)
(7:15AM) Journey for Margaret (1942/1h 21m/Drama/Major W. S. Van Dyke II)
(8:45AM) The Time Machine (1960/1h 43m/Sci-Fi/George Pal)
(10:30AM) Looking at London (1946/0h 10m/Short/?)
(10:45AM) Berkeley Square (1933/1h 24m/Romance/Frank Lloyd)
(12:15PM) High Hopes (1988/1h 52m/Comedy/Mike Leigh)
(2:15PM) A Hard Day's Night (1964/1h 32m/Musical/Richard Lester)
(4:00PM) Royal Wedding (1951/1h 33m/Musical/Stanley Donen)
(5:45PM) The V.I.P.s (1963/1h 59m/Drama/Anthony Asquith)
(8:00PM) Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession (2004/2h 2m/Documentary/Xan Cassavetes)
(10:15PM) What She Said: The Art of Pauline Kael (2018/Documentary/Rob Garver)
(12:00AM) The Celluloid Closet (1995/1h 42m/Documentary/Robert Epstein)
(2:00AM) Paul Robeson: Tribute to an Artist (1979/Biography/Documentary/Saul J. Turell)
(2:30AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 09) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(3:45AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 10) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(5:00AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Episode 11) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(6:15AM) Yellowface: Asian Whitewashing and Racism in Hollywood (2019/Documentary/Clara Kuperberg and Julia Kuperberg)
(7:15AM) Soundies: A Musical History (2007/1h 16m/Documentary/0h 54m/Chris Lamson)
(8:45AM) Soldiers Three (1951/1h 27m/Adventure/Tay Garnett)
(10:30AM) The Wild North (1952/1h 37m/Western/Andrew Marton)
(12:15PM) Bhowani Junction (1956/1h 50m/Drama/George Cukor)
(2:15PM) Green Fire (1955/1h 40m/Adventure/Andrew Marton)
(4:00PM) The Prisoner of Zenda (1952/1h 41m/Adventure/Richard Thorpe)
(6:00PM) King Solomon's Mines (1950/1h 42m/Adventure/Compton Bennett)
(8:00PM) Holiday (1938/1h 33m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(10:00PM) Little Women (1933/1h 55m/Drama/George Cukor)
(12:15AM) A Woman Rebels (1936/1h 28m/Drama/Mark Sandrich)
(2:00AM) Undercurrent (1946/1h 56m/Suspense/Vincente Minnelli)
(4:15AM) Stage Door (1937/1h 23m/Drama/Gregory LaCava)
(6:00AM) A King in New York (1957/1h 45m/Comedy/Charles Chaplin)
(8:00AM) Girlfriends (1978/1h 26m/Comedy/Claudia Weill)
(9:30AM) The Naked City (1948/1h 36m/Crime/Jules Dassin)
(11:15AM) Up the Sandbox (1972/1h 37/Drama/Irvin Kershner)
(1:00PM) The House on 56th Street (1933/1h 8m/Drama/Robert Florey)
(2:15PM) This Is the Bowery (1941/0h 10m/Short/Gunther Von Fritsch)
(2:3PM) The Prisoner Of Second Avenue (1974/1h 45m/Comedy/Melvin Frank)
(4:15PM) Soylent Green (1973/1h 27m/Sci-Fi/Richard O. Fleischer)
(6:00PM) Daybreak Express (1953/0h 5m/Short/D.A. Pennebaker)
(6:15PM) Crossing Delancey (1988/1h 37m/Romance/Joan Micklin Silver)
(8:00PM) Grey Gardens (1976/1h 34m/Documentary/Ellen Hovde)
(9:45PM) What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962/2h 12m/HorroRobert Aldrich)
12:15AM) X Y & Zee (1972/1h 50m/Drama/Brian G. Hutton)
(2:15AM) The Big Cube (1969/1h 38m/Drama/Tito Davison)
(4:00AM) The Legend of Lylah Clare (1968/2h 10m/Drama/Robert Aldrich)
(6:15AM) Vacation from Marriage (1945/1h 32m/Drama/Alexander Korda)
(8:00AM) MGM CARTOONS: Dumb-Hounded (1943/0h 8m/Animation/Fred “Tex” Avery)
(8:10AM) Pacific Paradise (1937/0h 10m/Short/George Sidney)
(8:21AM) Calling on Colombia (1940/0h 8m/Documentary/James A. Fitzpatrick)
(8:30AM) Once a Doctor (1937/0h 57m/Drama/William Clemens)
(9:30AM) BATMAN AND ROBIN: Tunnel of Terror (1949/0h 17m/Serial/Spencer Bennett)
(10:00AM) POPEYE: Insect to Injury (1956/0h 6m/Animation/Dave Tendlar)
(10:08AM) Murder in the Private Car (1934/1h 3m/Mystery/Harry Beaumont)
(11:30AM) The Flame Song (1934/0h 21m/Short/Joseph Henabery)
(12:00PM) A Star Is Born (1954/2h 56m/Musical/George Cukor)
(3:15PM) East of Eden (1955/1h 55m/Drama/Elia Kazan)
(5:30PM) Mister Roberts (1955/2h 3m/Comedy/John Ford)
(8:00PM) On the Waterfront (1954/1h 48m/Drama/Elia Kazan)
(10:00PM) Vertigo (1958/2h 8m/Suspense/Alfred Hitchcock)
(12:15AM) Storm Warning (1951/1h 33m/Film-NoiStuart Heisler)
(2:15AM) A Cry in the Dark (1988/2h 1m/Drama/Fred Schepisi)
(4:30AM) My Brilliant Career (1979/1h 38m/Drama/Gillian Armstrong)
(6:15AM) Athena (1954/1h 36m/Musical/Richard Thorpe)
(8:00AM) Calamity Jane (1953/1h 41m/Musical/David Butler)
(10:00AM) Storm Warning (1951/1h 33m/Film-NoiStuart Heisler)
(12:00PM) Imitation of Life (1959/2h 5m/Romance/Douglas Sirk)
(2:15PM) Pride and Prejudice (1940/1h 57m/Romance/Robert Z. Leonard)
(4:30PM) The Reluctant Debutante (1958/1h 36m/Musical/Vincente Minnelli)
(6:15PM) The Palm Beach Story (1942/1h 30m/Comedy/Preston Sturges)
TBD
(12:00AM) Don Juan (1926/1h 51m/Silent/Alan Crosland)
(2:00AM) Un Partie de Campagne (1936/0h 45m/Drama/Jean Renoir)
(3:00AM) Il bidone (1955/1h 32m/Comedy/Federico Fellini)
(5:00AM) Report from the Aleutians (1943/0h 45m/Documentary/Capt. John Huston)
(6:00AM) Many Rivers to Cross (1955/1h 32m/Western/Roy Rowland)
(7:45AM) Escape from Fort Bravo (1953/1h 38m/Western/John Sturges)
(9:30AM) The Very Thought of You (1944/1h 39m/Romance/Delmer Daves)
(11:15AM) One for the Book (1948/1h 43m/Comedy/Irving Rapper)
(1:00PM) Of Human Bondage (1946/1h 45m/Drama/Edmund Goulding)
(3:00PM) Lizzie (1957/1h 21m/Drama/Hugo Haas)
(4:30PM) Valley of the Kings (1954/1h 26m/Adventure/Robert Pirosh)
(6:00PM) Scaramouche (1952/1h 55m/Adventure/George Sidney)
(8:00PM) The Celluloid Closet (1995/1h 42m/DocumentaryRobert Epstein)
(10:00PM) Rope (1948/1h 20m/Suspense/Alfred Hitchcock)
(11:30PM) The Children's Hour (1961/1h 47m/Drama/William Wyler)
(1:30AM) Queen Christina (1933/1h 37m/Romance/Rouben Mamoulian)
(3:30AM) Victim (1961/1h 40m/Drama/Basil Dearden)
(5:30AM) Tea and Sympathy (1956/2h 2m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(7:45AM) The Case of the Howling Dog (1934/1h 14m/Suspense/Mystery/Alan Crosland)
(9:15AM) Murder on a Bridle Path (1936/1h 6m/Mystery/Edward Killy)
(10:30AM) The Saint Meets the Tiger (1943/1h 10m/Suspense/Paul Stein)
(12:00PM) The Kennel Murder Case (1933/1h 13m/Mystery/Michael Curtiz)
(1:30PM) Haunted Honeymoon (1940/1h 23m/Comedy/Arthur B. Woods)
(3:00PM) Eyes in the Night (1942/1h 20m/Mystery/Fred Zinnemann)
(4:30PM) Murder at the Gallop (1963/1h 21m/Mystery/George Pollock)
(6:00PM) Shadow of the Thin Man (1941/1h 37m/Mystery/Major W. S. Van Dyke II)
(8:00PM) The Bad and the Beautiful (1952/1h 58m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(10:15PM) Two Weeks in Another Town (1962/1h 47m/Drama/Vincente Minnelli)
(12:15AM) The Barefoot Contessa (1954/2h 8m/Drama/Joseph L. Mankiewicz)
(2:45AM) Inside Daisy Clover (1965/2h 8m/Drama/Robert Mulligan)
(5:00AM) The Oscar (1966/1h 59m/Drama/Russell Rouse)
(7:15AM) Mandalay (1934/1h 5m/Suspense/Michael Curtiz)
(8:30AM) The Unsuspected (1947/1h 43m/Suspense/Michael Curtiz)
(10:15AM) The Unholy Wife (1957/1h 34m/Crime/John Farrow)
(12:00PM) Back in Circulation (1937/1h 22m/Drama/Ray Enright)
(1:30PM) The Man with a Cloak (1951/1h 21m/Suspense/Fletcher Markle)
(3:00PM) D.O.A. (1950/1h 23m/Film-NoiRudolph Maté)
(4:30PM) Shadow on the Wall (1950/1h 24m/Suspense/Patrick Jackson)
(6:15PM) The Nanny (1965/1h 33m/HorroSeth Holt)
(8:00PM) Harold and Lillian: A Hollywood Love Story (2015/1h 34m/Documentary/Daniel Raim)
(9:45PM) By Design: The Joe Caroff Story (2022/0h 52m/Documentary/Mark Cerulli)
(10:45PM) Floyd Norman: An Animated Life (2016/1h 34m/Documentary/Michael Fiore)
TBD
(2:00AM) High Noon on the Waterfront (2022/0h 14m/Documentary/David Roberts)
(2:30AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Ep. 12) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(3:45AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Ep.13) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins)
(5:00AM) Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Ep. 14) (2019/Documentary/Mark Cousins
(6:15AM) Max Steiner: Maestro of Movie Music (2021/2h 0m/Documentary/Diana Friedberg)
(8:30AM) Dean Martin: King of Cool (2020/1h 47m/Documentary/Tom Donahue)
(10:30AM) Tarzan, the Ape Man (1932/1h 39m/Adventure/W. S. Van Dyke)
(12:15PM) Tarzan the Fearless (1933/1h 25m/Adventure/Robert F. Hill)
(1:45PM) The Valley of Decision (1945/1h 51m/Romance/Tay Garnett)
(3:45PM) Mrs. Parkington (1944/2h 4m/Romance/Tay Garnett)
(6:00PM) The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946/1h 51m/Crime/Tay Garnett)
(8:00PM) Desk Set (1957/1h 43m/Comedy/Walter Lang)
(10:00PM) Without Love (1945/1h 51m/Comedy/Harold S. Bucquet)
(12:00AM) Pat and Mike (1952/1h 35m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(1:45AM) Adam's Rib (1949/1h 41m/Comedy/George Cukor)
(3:45AM) Keeper of the Flame (1943/1h 40m/Drama/George Cukor)
(5:30AM) Week-End for Three (1941/1h 5m/Comedy/Irving Reis)
(6:45AM) MGM Parade Show #5 (1955/0h 25m/Documentary/?)
(7:30AM) Pagan Love Song (1950/1h 16m/Musical/Robert Alton)
(9:00AM) On an Island with You (1948/1h 47m/Musical/Richard Thorpe)
(11:00AM) Girl Happy (1965/1h 36m/Musical/Boris Sagal)
(12:45PM) You're Only Young Once (1938/1h 18m/Comedy/George B. Seitz)
(2:15PM) Catalina Caper (1967/1h 7m/Comedy/Lee Sholem)
(3:30PM) Where the Boys Are (1960/1h 39m/Comedy/Henry Levin)
(5:30PM) Sunkist Stars at Palm Springs (1936/0h 19m/Short/Roy Rowland)
(6:00PM) Palm Springs Weekend (1963/1h 40m/Comedy/Norman Taurog)
(8:00PM) VictoVictoria (1982/2h 14m/Musical/Blake Edwards)
(10:30PM) La Cage Aux Folles (1979/1h 37m/Comedy//Edouard Molinaro)
2023.05.30 22:41 Subject_Yellow_3251 Another machine request post!!
Hi everyone!
My husband and I love to go to our favorite local coffee shop every Saturday morning. Every other day we drink shitty keurig coffee though haha. I was thinking about investing in an espresso machine with a built in grinder to make lattes at home (we both love lattes). However, after looking into this sub for a bit I’ve gathered that making your own lattes at home really doesn’t save money unless you’re going to a coffee shop daily (which isn’t the case for us as stated above). Is that the general consensus? Are there certain espresso machines that are cheaper to use than others? Is a moka pot more of what I’m looking for probably? Sorry for all the questions, we aren’t very knowledgeable in this space :)
ETA: we don’t entertain often, so it would primarily be 2 lattes/day for my husband and I. Not limited on counter space. And if we were recommended to buy an espresso machine (instead of a Moka pot), our budget would probably be around $800 for the machine with a built in grinder.
submitted by Subject_Yellow_3251 to espresso [link] [comments]
My husband and I love to go to our favorite local coffee shop every Saturday morning. Every other day we drink shitty keurig coffee though haha. I was thinking about investing in an espresso machine with a built in grinder to make lattes at home (we both love lattes). However, after looking into this sub for a bit I’ve gathered that making your own lattes at home really doesn’t save money unless you’re going to a coffee shop daily (which isn’t the case for us as stated above). Is that the general consensus? Are there certain espresso machines that are cheaper to use than others? Is a moka pot more of what I’m looking for probably? Sorry for all the questions, we aren’t very knowledgeable in this space :)
ETA: we don’t entertain often, so it would primarily be 2 lattes/day for my husband and I. Not limited on counter space. And if we were recommended to buy an espresso machine (instead of a Moka pot), our budget would probably be around $800 for the machine with a built in grinder.
2023.05.30 02:33 UT99469A my wired internet/network dropped after updating VPN
as stated, i have no idea why mullvad app does this,every once in a blue moon it'll break my network, so i uninstall and downgrade and that fixes it, well, today we came to a head,cause no amount of regressing has fixed it.
Code: Select all
submitted by UT99469A to linuxmint [link] [comments]
Code: Select all
inxi -Fxxxrz System: Kernel: 5.15.0-72-generic x86_64 bits: 64 compiler: gcc v: 11.3.0 Desktop: Cinnamon 5.6.8 tk: GTK 3.24.33 wm: muffin vt: 7 dm: LightDM 1.30.0 Distro: Linux Mint 21.1 Vera base: Ubuntu 22.04 jammy Machine: Type: Desktop Mobo: ASUSTeK model: TUF Z390-PLUS GAMING (WI-FI) v: Rev X.0x serial:UEFI: American Megatrends v: 3006 date: 10/12/2021 Battery: Device-1: ps-controller-battery-d0:bc:c1:b0:cf:46 model: N/A serial: N/A charge: N/A status: Charging CPU: Info: 8-core model: Intel Core i9-9900K bits: 64 type: MT MCP smt: enabled arch: Coffee Lake rev: C cache: L1: 512 KiB L2: 2 MiB L3: 16 MiB Speed (MHz): avg: 4841 high: 4914 min/max: 800/5000 cores: 1: 4881 2: 4882 3: 4888 4: 4835 5: 4866 6: 4839 7: 4833 8: 4816 9: 4856 10: 4811 11: 4914 12: 4800 13: 4802 14: 4802 15: 4830 16: 4802 bogomips: 115200 Flags: avx avx2 ht lm nx pae sse sse2 sse3 sse4_1 sse4_2 ssse3 Graphics: Device-1: NVIDIA TU102 [GeForce RTX 2080 Ti Rev. A] driver: nvidia v: 525.105.17 pcie: speed: 2.5 GT/s lanes: 16 ports: active: none off: DP-3 empty: DP-1, DP-2, HDMI-A-1, Unknown-1 bus-ID: 01:00.0 chip-ID: 10de:1e07 class-ID: 0300 Display: x11 server: X.Org v: 1.21.1.4 driver: X: loaded: nvidia unloaded: fbdev,modesetting,nouveau,vesa gpu: nvidia display-ID: :0 screens: 1 Screen-1: 0 s-res: 3840x2160 s-dpi: 139 s-size: 702x392mm (27.6x15.4") s-diag: 804mm (31.7") Monitor-1: DP-4 res: 3840x2160 hz: 60 dpi: 140 size: 697x392mm (27.4x15.4") diag: 800mm (31.5") OpenGL: renderer: NVIDIA GeForce RTX 2080 Ti/PCIe/SSE2 v: 4.6.0 NVIDIA 525.105.17 direct render: Yes Audio: Device-1: Intel Cannon Lake PCH cAVS vendor: ASUSTeK driver: snd_hda_intel v: kernel bus-ID: 00:1f.3 chip-ID: 8086:a348 class-ID: 0403 Device-2: NVIDIA TU102 High Definition Audio driver: snd_hda_intel v: kernel pcie: speed: 8 GT/s lanes: 16 bus-ID: 01:00.1 chip-ID: 10de:10f7 class-ID: 0403 Device-3: Sony Wireless Controller type: USB driver: playstation,snd-usb-audio,usbhid bus-ID: 1-3:3 chip-ID: 054c:0ce6 class-ID: 0300 Sound Server-1: ALSA v: k5.15.0-72-generic running: yes Sound Server-2: JACK v: 1.9.20 running: no Sound Server-3: PulseAudio v: 15.99.1 running: yes Network: Device-1: Intel Cannon Lake PCH CNVi WiFi driver: iwlwifi v: kernel bus-ID: 00:14.3 chip-ID: 8086:a370 class-ID: 0280 IF: wlo1 state: up mac: Device-2: Intel Ethernet I219-V vendor: ASUSTeK driver: e1000e v: kernel port: N/A bus-ID: 00:1f.6 chip-ID: 8086:15bc class-ID: 0200 IF: eno2 state: up speed: 100 Mbps duplex: full mac: Device-3: Sony Wireless Controller type: USB driver: playstation,snd-usb-audio,usbhid bus-ID: 1-3:3 chip-ID: 054c:0ce6 class-ID: 0300 IF-ID-1: anbox0 state: down mac: IF-ID-2: lxcbr0 state: down mac: Bluetooth: Device-1: Intel Bluetooth 9460/9560 Jefferson Peak (JfP) type: USB driver: btusb v: 0.8 bus-ID: 1-14:9 chip-ID: 8087:0aaa class-ID: e001 Report: hciconfig ID: hci0 rfk-id: 0 state: up address: bt-v: 3.0 lmp-v: 5.1 sub-v: 100 hci-v: 5.1 rev: 100 RAID: Hardware-1: Intel SATA Controller [RAID mode] driver: ahci v: 3.0 port: 4020 bus-ID: 00:17.0 chip-ID: 8086:2822 rev: N/A class-ID: 0104 Drives: Local Storage: total: 1.82 TiB used: 954.53 GiB (51.2%) ID-1: /dev/sda vendor: Samsung model: SSD 860 EVO 1TB size: 931.51 GiB speed: 6.0 Gb/s type: SSD serial: rev: 2B6Q scheme: GPT ID-2: /dev/sdb vendor: Western Digital model: WDS100T2B0B size: 931.51 GiB speed: 6.0 Gb/s type: SSD serial: rev: 90WD scheme: MBR Partition: ID-1: / size: 915.32 GiB used: 676.44 GiB (73.9%) fs: ext4 dev: /dev/sda2 ID-2: /boot/efi size: 511 MiB used: 6.1 MiB (1.2%) fs: vfat dev: /dev/sda1 Swap: ID-1: swap-1 type: file size: 2 GiB used: 0 KiB (0.0%) priority: -2 file: /swapfile Sensors: System Temperatures: cpu: 27.8 C mobo: N/A gpu: nvidia temp: 35 C Fan Speeds (RPM): N/A gpu: nvidia fan: 40% Repos: Packages: 3378 apt: 3325 flatpak: 38 snap: 15 No active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/additional-repositories.list 1: deb https://dl.winehq.org/wine-builds/ubuntu/ jammy main Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/cdemu-ppa-focal.list 1: deb http://ppa.launchpad.net/cdemu/ppa/ubuntu jammy main Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/lutris-team-lutris-focal.list 1: deb http://ppa.launchpad.net/lutris-team/lutris/ubuntu jammy main 2: deb-src http://ppa.launchpad.net/lutris-team/lutris/ubuntu jammy main Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/lutris.list 1: deb https://download.opensuse.org/repositories/home:/strycore/Debian_11/ ./ No active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/micahflee-ppa-focal.list No active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/nilarimogard-webupd8-focal.list Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/official-package-repositories.list 1: deb http://packages.linuxmint.com vera main upstream import backport 2: deb http://archive.ubuntu.com/ubuntu jammy main restricted universe multiverse 3: deb http://archive.ubuntu.com/ubuntu jammy-updates main restricted universe multiverse 4: deb http://archive.ubuntu.com/ubuntu jammy-backports main restricted universe multiverse 5: deb http://security.ubuntu.com/ubuntu/ jammy-security main restricted universe multiverse Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/pipewire-debian-pipewire-upstream-focal.list 1: deb http://ppa.launchpad.net/pipewire-debian/pipewire-upstream/ubuntu jammy main 2: deb-src http://ppa.launchpad.net/pipewire-debian/pipewire-upstream/ubuntu jammy main Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/spotify.list 1: deb http://repository.spotify.com stable non-free Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/tatokis-ckb-next-focal.list 1: deb http://ppa.launchpad.net/tatokis/ckb-next/ubuntu jammy main 2: deb-src http://ppa.launchpad.net/tatokis/ckb-next/ubuntu jammy main Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/teejee2008-ppa-focal.list 1: deb http://ppa.launchpad.net/teejee2008/ppa/ubuntu jammy main 2: deb-src http://ppa.launchpad.net/teejee2008/ppa/ubuntu jammy main Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/vivaldi.list 1: deb [arch=amd64] https://repo.vivaldi.com/stable/deb/ stable main Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/waydroid.list 1: deb [signed-by=/usshare/keyrings/waydroid.gpg] https://repo.waydro.id/ focal main Active apt repos in: /etc/apt/sources.list.d/winehq-jammy.sources 1: deb [arch=amd64 i386] https://dl.winehq.org/wine-builds/ubuntu jammy main Info: Processes: 400 Uptime: 13m wakeups: 2 Memory: 62.71 GiB used: 3.87 GiB (6.2%) Init: systemd v: 249 runlevel: 5 target: graphical.target Compilers: gcc: 11.3.0 alt: 11/12/9 Shell: Bash v: 5.1.16 running-in: gnome-terminal inxi: 3.3.13
inxi -Nn Network: Device-1: Intel Cannon Lake PCH CNVi WiFi driver: iwlwifi IF: wlo1 state: up mac: b4:6b:fc:b8:3d:a0 Device-2: Intel Ethernet I219-V driver: e1000e IF: eno2 state: up speed: 10 Mbps duplex: half mac: 04:92:26:4b:0d:8a IF-ID-1: anbox0 state: down mac: de:bd:06:51:d4:fc IF-ID-2: lxcbr0 state: down mac: 00:16:3e:00:00:00Code: Select all
iwconfig lo no wireless extensions. eno2 no wireless extensions. wlo1 IEEE 802.11 ESSID:"DebianIsKing" Mode:Managed Frequency:2.447 GHz Access Point: C8:9E:43:58:B7:29 Bit Rate=130 Mb/s Tx-Power=22 dBm Retry short limit:7 RTS thr:off Fragment thr:off Power Management:on Link Quality=49/70 Signal level=-61 dBm Rx invalid nwid:0 Rx invalid crypt:0 Rx invalid frag:0 Tx excessive retries:0 Invalid misc:181 Missed beacon:0
2023.05.29 23:20 DarkLordJurasus USAgent and the USAvengers #18- Passover Special
USAgent and the USAvengers
Volume 4: HealingPassover Special
Written by: u/DarkLordJurasus
Edited by: u/PresidentWerewolf and u/Predaplant
I look out at the highway, the sound of the radio blending into the noise of cars on asphalt. Up ahead is a sign for a rest stop in half a mile. For a moment, I debate not saying anything, merely shifting my aching leg to try letting it straighten and allow the car to continue forward. Walter is stressed enough as is; being trapped in New Jersey traffic will only make it worse.
I grab ahold of the front seat passenger chair, and attempt to shift my body to a more leaning position. I get one leg up before letting out a moan. Pain blossoms through my oblique muscles as I stop.
Hearing me, Walter asks, “Are you okay?”
Shifting back into the sitting position, I wave him off, “Yea, yea. I’m fine. Healing just sucks. Can we possibly stop soon? I need to stand up and walk off my soreness.”
Doug gives a curt nod, quickly putting on his right blinker to change lanes. Walter doesn’t immediately respond. For a moment, he is quiet, and then he says, “Listen, if you aren’t feeling up to the trip, it's okay. There is a Passover Seder hosted by a synagogue near our base, I can go there for the holidays.”
I quickly reply, “No, I’m fine. We calculated the time for a lot of stops and the doctor said as long as I walk around every hour to hour and a half, I should be fine.”
Trying to lighten the mood, Doug added on, “Yea. I was promised a chance to try your mom’s homemade macaroons. You aren’t taking that away from me.”
All Walter replied with was a hesitant, “Okay.”
It’s strange, Walter’s response. Well, his hesitation in general is weird. Is he worried to see his parents again? It would be the first time he saw them since becoming Stingray, but that isn’t it. His hesitation mostly comes around Doug and me coming. It can’t be him trying to keep us away from his Jewish identity. He’s the one who invited us, and he had never been shy about discussing his beliefs before.
I try to brush the thought from my mind. I don’t want to push Walter. If he is feeling so uncomfortable now, any attempt to figure out what he is thinking will only lead to him getting defensive. Instead, I just let it go, pretending I haven’t noticed his weird behavior, and listen to the news.
In business news, earlier today Tinkerer Technologies announced their initiative to begin making technology that will help protect private citizens from superhuman threats. This corresponded with a press statement by company founder Phineas Mason.
In the statement, Phineas wrote, “Tinkerer Technologies is not trying to disparage the technology being created on behest of the US government in regards to the danger superhumans may pose. It must be remembered that Tinkerer Technologies were the main industry working with the government on the USAvengers project and had a direct hand in both the Detroit Steel armor and the Modern American Initiative. The problem is, Sentinels and the USAvengers can only be part of the solution. A situation with a superhuman can turn volatile in a moment. We’ve seen this with both dangerous, violent criminals and innocents who lost control of their powers. As such, it is imperative that the average citizen has the tools to neutralize deadly situations as they wait for the police, a Sentinel, or the USAvengers to arrive.”
Walter turns off the radio at this, his back straight as a pencil. At the same time, he begins to pull into the parking lot of the rest stop. He parks the car in silence, the fact he turned off the radio not mentioned by anyone in the car. We all know why. The wording was polite, but the message behind Phineas’ words are clear: mutants are dangerous and should be feared.
As the car stops, Doug clears his throat and says, “I’m going inside to the bathroom and to grab an Iced Tea for the road. Anyone want anything?”
Walter responds, “I’m good.”
Doug merely looks at Walter for a moment, I can’t see his eyes, but I can only guess he was looking him over, worried about Walter’s behavior. After a moment, Doug nods and turns back to me, “You want anything?”
“Sure,” I reply, “Grab me a coffee.”
Getting out of the car, Doug double checks, “Two milk, one Splenda?”
I hum in the affirmative. Doug closes the door to the car and begins to walk towards the rest stop.
I move to leave the car myself, my hand unclasping the seatbelt from its holder. Taking a deep breath, Walter says, “Wait…I…we need to talk before you get out.”
I’m silent, unsure what to say or do in this situation. I’m worried, what’s going on? Why is Walter so nervous?
Walter’s hands drift from the steering wheel to his side, limp. “Two days ago my mom called me. Originally we thought my grandpa wasn’t coming to Passover. For as long as I knew him, he always flew to Israel for Passover specifically and celebrated the holiday with his sister’s family. Earlier last week his sister’s daughter called him to cancel. It seems that one of my cousins just had a preemie and Passover took a backseat as they are dealing with the surprise of having the child early.”
“Why is this a bad thing?” I ask.
Walter sighs, “It’s not, I love my grandpa, he’s great, he’s just, well he is so far liberal that we used to joke Bernie Sanders went to him for policy ideas. When I told him I wanted to go to a military college, he spent over a year trying to convince me otherwise. He even offered to pay for all 4 years of my college out of his own pocket just to stop me.”
Understanding sinks in; his grandfather is not going to like me, not in the slightest. The only thing I can say in response is, “Oh.”
Walter looks down, “Yea. He is probably going to challenge you. Mom said he promised to not make a scene, but to him, anything short of not punching you like he is Captain America punching Hitler is not making a scene.”
“Do you not want me to go?” I ask, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. I know Walter is still wary of me due to my usage of the M-slur, not that I could blame him. If I was him, I would have dropped me as a friend as soon as I got out of a coma. I don’t want to cause conflict, and I would understand if Walter doesn’t feel comfortable with me there, all things considered, but it would still hurt. I can currently only count three people as my friends, and with how badly I screwed up my friendship with Lemar, I hate the idea that my friendship with Walter is also irreparable.
“No.” Doug says quickly, almost too quickly, “It’s not like that. It’s just, I know you are planning to go to group therapy with Lemar to work out your issues, and I don’t want you to be placed into a situation where a stranger confronts you over your actions before you're ready for it. If you don’t feel up to being interrogated, then I can easily turn this car around and we can claim the flu or some other bullshit.”
I think about what Walter said. He’s not entirely wrong. While I know what I said is wrong, and I know that it was derogatory and discriminatory, I also know that I haven’t done enough to fix the issue. I’ve thought about that day often, my mind replaying the events over and over, but I haven’t verbalized much of it to others. I can play out the words I will say when questioned on it, but that means nothing when emotions run high. Wasn’t it during high emotions that I showed my true colors in the first place?
My hand is shaking, from my emotions or from the lack of movement, I’m not quite sure. I don’t think I can do this, I barely was coherent enough to discuss it with my friends, how can I try speaking about it in front of others? Would I try explaining it after I apologize, to further go into how I am trying to work harder in the future to change, or would that be considered justifying the behavior? For a moment, the thought of turning the car around sounds like the right choice. Walter is right, I’m not ready for a confrontation, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.
And yet, I also know turning the car around is impossible. Ignoring how selfish it would be to Walter, the fact of the matter is that I can’t keep running from the backlash. I can’t keep pretending that the real world consequences to my actions will avoid me. I have to face the music.
“I want to go.” I manage to gasp out in a whisper. Instantly, I feel better and I feel worse. It feels like a weight has been lifted, like I’m no longer testing fate or Odin or anyone else who might exist, but at the same time, a new tension builds anticipation. This is not going to be fun, but it’s something I need to do.
—---------------------
Two days later, the three of us arrive at Walter’s parents’ house dressed up. Even from the other side of the door, I can easily hear the noises of children yelling and oven alarms going off. On my head is a yarmulke, a small brown cap. Walter did tell Doug and me that it was okay for us not to wear it, but if I’m being invited to celebrate someone’s culture and religion, I want to be as respectful as possible while doing so.
Walter knocks on the door and a young woman comes to the door. She looks younger than Walter, maybe in her mid to late thirties. She wears a dark blue dress with a silver Star of David necklace. Seeing David, she hugs him. “It’s good to see you. Mom was terrified when you disappeared and then showed up as a superhero.”
Blushing a bit, Walter responds, “You know I would have told you guys if I could.”
The girl smiles softly. “I know that, but try telling that to mom.”
Walter stops for a moment, his body freezing. “Fuck,” he says before running inside, calling for his mother.
Seeing Doug’s and my confusion, the girl explains, “There’s no more powerful force than a Jewish mother’s guilt, and for the stunt you guys pulled, well Walter is going to be reminded of that fact.”
Awkwardly I nod, my hands almost trapped at my side. It’s hard enough for me to lie to Lemar about why I disappeared for months on end; I didn’t even think of how hard it was for Walter to lie to his family.
Doug, either recovering from the awkwardness first or not having felt it in the first place, holds out his hand, “Hi, I’m Doug.”
Shaking his hand, the woman replies, “Detroit Steel right?” Not waiting for a response, she continues, “I’m Alli.”
My mind instantly clicks. This is Walter’s younger sister, the one who is a Social Studies teacher in Pennsylvania. Holding out my own hand, I say, “I’m John.”
Alli’s smile gets slightly tighter, her lips paling from tension, “Welcome to our house.” She turns around and quickly gestures for us to get inside. The fact she didn’t shake my hand isn’t lost on me, but if passive-aggressiveness is the worst of my treatment tonight, well, it would be more than I deserve.
Walking inside, we are on a small wooden platform, a single step to the left required to get to the downstairs, a staircase in front of us exiting into the living room. A young kid runs by and runs over my foot. I let out a small gasp as pain reverberates up my leg. I lean harder on my cane.
“Baruch Lavie Melamed! Apologize this instant.”
The young boy stops and stares at me. I feel tears welling in my eyes from the pain, but I try my best to keep my face clean. “Sorry for running over your foot.”
Trying to keep the pain from bleeding into my voice, I respond, “It’s fine.”
My voice must not have been as nonchalant as I hoped as both Alli and Baruch stay still for a moment before Alli nods and says, “Go back to playing.”
The kid's mouth splits in half with a smile and he runs off. Alli turns to me, her expression changed to one much softer, “Are you okay?”
I close my eyes for a minute, my leg pulsating. Opening them again, I wave her off, “Yea, barely even felt it.”
It’s obvious she does not believe me, her eyes frozen on my hunched over form. I mentally hold my breath; I don’t want her to come and help. I don’t need the pity, I can’t handle the pity. I’m goddamn USAgent, if she has to pity someone, I can show her hundreds of people who need it more. I’d rather she treat me with the disdained indifference of before, it's what I deserve after all.
Doug comes to my rescue, grabbing ahold of my elbow and saying, “It’s fine, I’m used to carrying his dead weight.” He says it with a slight chuckle, one that is so forced, it almost sounded like a cough.
Alli nods and begins to walk up the stairs. I go to follow, but Doug doesn’t move. In my ear, he whispers, “Listen, if you can’t handle this, we can go. I’ll drive you back to the hotel and pick up Walter later.”
I whisper back, “I’m good.”
Doug nods and begins to help me up the stairs, “Please don’t push yourself. The last thing we need is for you to backtrack.”
I give my own nod, wondering if Doug meant physically or mentally backtracking.
—-----------------------
An hour later, we are all gathered around a large table, prayer books in hand, as Walter and his family chant Hebrew and English. My book is open, and I attempt to make the same sounds coming out of everyone else’s mouths, but my heart isn’t in it. I’m too busy looking at the table through the corner of my eyes.
Once again, I have to wonder: how selfish am I truly? I knew Walter had a big family, unlike Doug and myself, but I never truly thought of how much he had to give up for the USAvengers. Sure, being in the military requires sacrifices, but the USAvengers is more. How many secrets has he had to keep from his loved ones? How does he feel knowing they can be at risk due to his role as government hero?
Glancing around the table, my eyes freeze at an older man. He wears a full black suit with a dark blue yarmulke and a white scarf like object that Alli told me earlier was a tallit. His eyes meet mine, the dark brown pupils dilating, the same glare he has been giving me all night reappearing.
I learned that he is the grandpa, Benjamin Newell, and while silent towards me, his disgust is extremely evident. I don’t fault him though. Walter explained to me last night that his brother and parents died in the Holocaust, and that since then, his grandfather has fought against injustice and bigotry.
I attempt to stare down at the book, but it is too late as Benjamin clears his throat, his eyes never leaving mine.
The prayer, I believe it is called the Four Questions, is stopped as everyone turns to look at him. He closes his book and puts it down, his movement demanding a presence.
“Well,” he says slowly, spit pooling in the corners of the mouth, “I’m done ignoring the elephant in the room.”
Walter’s mom, Leia Newell, is quick to admonish her father, but he cuts her off, “No. If one breaks bread with a Nazi, they are a Nazi. I’m not breaking matzah with a bigot, especially not during a sacred holiday.”
I nod my head, “I understand that.” All the desire I had to explain or justify myself disappears immediately as I realize how wrong it would be to do so here. This isn’t a family dinner, this is a holiday, and I, an outsider, am harming it by making others uncomfortable. There are times and places to make a stand, but today is not one of them.
I turn to Leia and say, “Thank you for inviting me.”
I grab my cane and Doug gets up, supporting me by my elbow. Benjamin scoffs, “Look at him, another bigot who can’t deal with conflict. Go back to hurting the innocent.”
Walter gets up also, his chair scratching against the wooden floor, “I knew this was a bad idea. I knew that you wouldn’t give John a chance to show that he is working to be better. I just thought you would do it before or after we eat, not ruin dinner in the process.”
Benjamin laughs, “I’m sorry Walter, I know he is your friend, and I respect that, but cut the crap about him trying to be better. If he was trying, he would stop sullying the legacy of Captain America and quit. Captain America was a man who had the first segregated battalion. Captain America came and prayed at synagogues all throughout the country in protest when America forced Jewish refugees back to Germany. Your friend runs when someone points out his bigotry.”
I stop walking and turn around, the movement so fast that my cane hits my leg in the process. I’m tired of being compared to Steve fucking Rogers, the man with the goddamn plan. I’m tired of seeing him in my dreams, admonishing me, I’m tired of living in his shadows.
“You’re right.” I say, my eyes meeting his, “I’m not Captain America, there will never be another Captain America. I’m not the perfect representation of the dream of an united America, I’m a flawed human being.”
“So quit.” Benjamin replies.
This time I laugh, a bitter taste on my tongue, “You think that will fix anything? The USAvengers project is too expensive to fail, and I can assure you, the next guy will be much worse to supers than I can ever dream of being. Kelly’s support and power has only grown since the Power Broker appeared, and there is no chance in hell that he won’t be picking the next USAgent. At least I’m trying to get past my biases and prejudices, I can assure you the next guy won’t put in the same effort.”
“If you are trying to be better, why run with your tail behind your legs? Explain that, talk to us, running is for cowards who can’t take living in the real world.”
Looking down, I say, “I was trying to not ruin your dinner.”
Benjamin responds, “Well, according to this one,” he points his finger at Walter, “I already did so, so you might as well explain yourself.”
I nod and say, “I’m scared. Mutants, superhumans, they can do things no one else can, and I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I’d be defenseless, and that terrifies me. I know logically it is unfair, that very few superhumans are powerful enough to kill others with no effort, and out of that small population, even fewer are violent, but the heart often doesn’t listen to the mind. I was at ground zero for Ultron, and I saw the strength and brutality of both superhumans, and the foes they fight, and despite my military training, I was unable to do anything.”
Benjamin opens his mouth to respond, but I continue, “Me saying a slur, it was a long time coming, I just refused to see it. I hid my fear of supers, refusing to talk about the Avengers or vigilantes like Spider-Man before I became USAgent. I told myself this was due to my anger at not being helped during the Ultron Incident, and that was definitely part of it, but that fear was there all along. Then I became USAgent, I thought my fear would disappear, I would be able to defend myself and others, but then the dinosaurs attacked New York. I almost died on three occasions, and yet I saw the supers I fought with kill and slaughter the dinosaurs like they were tissue paper. I was already close to a panic attack upon realizing my friends were probably turned into dinosaurs, but the realization, that despite everything, I’m still too weak to protect myself and those I care about, well it broke me, and a disgusting and dark part of myself, a part of myself I hope I never see again, came out.”
Benjamin eyes me up and down before saying, “Fear does not justify bigotry.”
“I know.” I respond softly.
He continues, “What you did is despicable.”
“I agree.” I say.
He leans forward, “Most people don’t get second chances, and very few deserve a third chance. Do you understand that?”
I shake my head, “I do. I won’t let you, or my friends down.”
Sitting back in his seat, he smiles, “Well then, sit down, the soup is getting cold and I want to eat before midnight.”
2023.05.29 18:16 SoCuteBear [SELL][CANADA to USA & Canada][PERFUME] tons of goodies to be found!
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- ADAM $2: Cedar, balsam, warm skin musks, teak, bergamot, coriander, pepper, tonka bean, and earth.
- ALCUIN, $2.75: White musks and white amber, the pale greens and grays of his marque, with moss and a chypre accord and a base of soft wood.
- AQUARIUS $2: a blend of air with an undercurrent of water, topped with sparkling aldehydes.
- HOMESICK, $2.75: Dogwood, wisteria, tulips, sunflowers ocean air.
- INSOMNIAC, $2.75: white nightgowns, clean sheets, lavender buds, a drop of chamomile, wood floors, skin musks
- JEUNE SAINTE AU LYS $2: pale skin, muted notes of polar, pine, and wood, pale white lilies
- MASTER OF THE STRAITS, $2.75: Stormy sea water, driftwood, bay rum, oakmoss and a couple of drops of hyacinth.
- MOULIN ROUGE, $2.75: a frou-frou of red satin, a frisson of velvet, wooden floorboards, blonde tobacco, red wine, and a drop of absinthe.
- MY GIRLFRIEND’S GIRLFRIEND, $2.75: white musk forms the base. Heart notes of jasmine, soft rose, freesia, lily and black currant. Top notes of pink grapefruit, bergamot and mandarin orange.
- NERVE, $2.75: Blue musk, green clover, soft grey suede, jet fuel, and, white peach tea
- OCTOBER RUST, $2.75: "Cool rusting metal, the last of the maple leaves, black agarwood, crisp air, incense, bonfire smoke, blonde woods, and dark amber."
- SECOND SKIN, $10 (almost half left in 15 mL Bottle): Cold skin, fog, combat boots, cashmeran, metal accord, raindrops, wet stone
- SEVEN STARS, $2.75: Midnight blue sky, sparkling stars, rice, white cedar, and, Buddha’s Hand Citrus
- SILKWORM, $2.75: Silk threads, mulberry leaves, fruit, and branches, salt tears
- SNOW WHITE, $2.75: Clean white musk, blood-red roses, ebony wood, and a touch of the forest, and that infamous apple.
- TALENT, $2.75: Crisp linen, beeswax coated silken threads, Alban rose, and Earl Grey tea.
- WATER ME, $2.75: coconut, dark amber, skin musks, clean water, and satin sheets
- BUNE: Damp subterranean air, nagarmotha, smooth cave walls, davana, a cold marble altar, & glittering green dragon scales
- COYOCAN, $2: Desert wind, sweet nectar, cool stone, Mexican vanilla, creosote, hibiscus, sage
- KUPALA: Morning dew, davana, fern flower, bonfire smoke, birch leaves, warm summer air
- STOLAS: Bluebells, an unburnt cedar offering, cool night air, lavender, soft owl feathers, blueberries, & a hint of dark chocolate
- COUNT CHOCO, Ajevie Slink, $4: Count ChocoCocoa Absolute of Persia, India and the West Indies, Cocoa liquor, Wheat, Cocoa Powder, Vanilla Powder, Mallow and Chocolate Soy Milk.
- DEEP HEALING, 1.15 ml, $3.5: Deep ocean water, bracing wind, cold clary sage, and fresh rain-drenched greens.
- DENDROPHILIA - THE LOVE OF TREES, 1.15 ml, $3.5: The love of Trees.Moss-covered deadfall, birchwood and pine, lingering resins and sunlight through the leaves, a trace of woodsmoke, the memory of vetiver and cedar.
- FROST GIANT , 1.15 ml, $3.5: Himalayan cedar, towering oak, nagarmotha, frozen sage, moss-covered stone, cucumber, and fog.
- GREY WOLF, 1.15 ml, $3.5: White sandalwood, black amber, icy sage, cashmere, stone musk, lichen, softly smoked birchwood, grey suede, mountain springwater, and white peppercorn.
- MERFOLK, Ajevie Slonk (cute screw-top vials), $3.75: The mineral scent of sand, salt, and shells upon the mist, ambergris accord, turquoise musk, warm orris, olive trees, and neroli.
- ORNITHOPHILIA - THE LOVE OF BIRDS, 1.15 ml, $3.5: A wistful effusion of angelica, kava kava, elderflower, linden, mugwort, saffron, acacia wood, purple heliotrope, and mugwort.
- 4 SEASONS OF SUMMER: Bamboo, silk, Japanese incense, a hint of water, and fresh green shoots, and a small introduction of sandalwood in the mix to send a cooling breeze your way.
- ALASKA: the chill in the air, but also the perfume of the riot of summer blossoms as they race the sun every year.
- ARC OF VENUS, FS, Brand New Never Used, $16: Sexy sandalwood base, black lavender, calendula, “abstract” musk, sharp grey musk
- BERENICE: Champagne musk, pink grapefruit, a dash of lemon zest, a veil of dragons' blood
- BIRTH OF VENUS: jasmine, aquatic blend, light citrus blend
- BRIDAL CHORUS, FS, Brand New Never Used, $16: a lot of Hawthorne here, a very sugary musk, a kiss of a ""silky musk"" and it's all about silky skin
- DANCE WITH ME, FS, Brand New Never Used, $16: A classy variation of everyone's favorite lavender vanilla but substituting grapefruit for lavender and under-girding it with white musk.
- FASCINATOR: sparkling, very high-key bright crystalline musk, emollient backup musk, sandalwood, cedar and rosewood.
- FLYING HORSE: Bamboo, grated ginger, green tea, luan wood, white floral note
- FROG PRINCESS: To an aquatic base, subtle hints of coconut and mint are added.
- HATSHEPSUT: Bitter beautiful galbanum pairs with the smoothness of labdanum, a bit of oude gum, and a very small amount of the best skin amber.
- HEATHCLIFFE AND CATHERINE EARNSHAW: Heather of the moors, lavender of English, a drop of wildness, oude
- HYLAS AND THE NYMPH: pooled water, lush vegetation, and sneaking scent of sex
- ISABELLA: rose are combined with a light resin, white tea leaf and a rare honey/milky/cream musk. A light dusting of familiar spices.
- LOLA MONTEZ: green of Irish grass accord, deeply green aquatic note, dark and thick labdenum, tonka infusion, animalic musk.
- LOTUS OF THE NILE: The lotus is the prime fragrance in the bouquet, but it is followed by bits of roseate beauty, a sort of dark incense which has been winnowed through the air, and faint aquatic background scent.
- SHIP OF FOOLS: tang of the sea and added a bit of refined leather to get things started, a roll of key lime zest and a goodly portion of faux ambergris.
- SWAN: cool with a light kiss of olive leaf, a blend of three blue musks (from light to dark and a mid tone one), a bit of cork (!) extract, a small amount of osmanthus.
- TERRA NOCTURNA: violet, vetiver, leather, ozone, pepper, sugar, and a crystal musk
- THE WATER BURNS: The essence of earth and high greenery--a hint of smoke but smelled from far away, boxwood, galbanum, and a light hint of Mysore sandalwood.
- XUONG CUONG: A cold green leaf bats against a ghost wood, a lash of green chlorophyll and crystal musk, a bit of luan wood, and a soft ambient earth scent, finished off with sandalwood and yuzu, the latter adds an air of almost black walnut and nutwood-like nuance to the whole.
- ALL IS BRIGHT Ajevie Slonk (cute screw-top vials). $4: Quiet snowfall, brisk winter ozone, warm peppermint tea, tightly laced ice skates on a glistening frozen pond
- ALL IS BRIGHT, $5: Quiet snowfall, brisk winter ozone, warm peppermint tea, tightly laced ice skates on a glistening frozen pond
- ANDROCTONUS AUSTRALIS, $5: Rum, wild fig, dry papyrus, sweet tobacco, oud
- AQUILA, $5: Juniper, chilld white tea, mountain laurel, soft cotton, airy musks
- AQUILA, $5: Juniper, chilld white tea, mountain laurel, soft cotton, airy musks
- AQUILA, $5: Juniper, chilld white tea, mountain laurel, soft cotton, airy musks
- BEAUTIFUL. POPULAR. LOVED. FEARED. Ajevie 2020 Half Slink, $1.5: Moonflower, tiare, bitter almond, blond woods, heat lightning, asphalt
- BEFANA, $3.5 (decanted into a thicker vial that’s approximately 2/3 full but measured to be around 1/5 of a bottle): Black currant and dried fig, black pepper, forest berries, pressed flower petals, creamy amber, winter spices
- BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR, Ajevie Slonk (cute screw-top vials). $4: Dusty magic shop shelves, dried sage leaf, crystal ball, darkened amber musks, a puff of smoke
- BOOK OF STARS, $3 (decanted into a thicker vial that’s approximately 1/4 full): The smell of space (meteor dust, ozone, metal, ethyl formate) blended with grounding white sandalwood, papyrus, & earthy musks.
- CHILLED CHAMPAGNE, $3.5 (decanted into a thicker vial that’s approximately 2/3 full but measured to be around 1/5 of a bottle)
- CHIROMANCY, $5: Orris, worn leather, ink, porcelain, black truffle
- COCONUT FLAN, FREE (original bottle with a few drops left) - just ask!
- FOOL FOR LOVE, $5: Leather jacket, chipped black nail polish, burning roses, bad poetry
- GRETA, $5: Frosted glass, chilly aldehydes, citrus blossom, elderflower, snow accord
- GRASS HARP, $3.5 (decanted into a thicker vial that’s approximately 2/3 full but measured to be around 1/5 of a bottle): Orange blossom, clover, hyacinth, ruby red grapefruit, sweet basil
- HELIOPHOBIA, decant in chonky vial, $3: Climbing ivy, faded magnolia blooms, moonlit vines, cracked solarium glass, splintered wood, peeling wallpaper, humid air, fog & shadow, feral musk
- I AM ATREYU!, $5: The hopes of all Fantasia: Luck dragon fur, glimmering gold and worn suede, sumac, fire, equine musk
- I AM ATREYU!, $5: The hopes of all Fantasia: Luck dragon fur, glimmering gold and worn suede, sumac, fire, equine musk
- LOUISE, Direct, $5: Sultry amber, red ink, black kohl, night blooms, Tonkin musk (synthetic), wormwood, soft suede, glistening strands of pearls
- LYCANTHROPE, Direct, $5: Monkshood, warm fur, tuber, elm bark, artemisia, galbanum, weathered rock, silver moonlight
- LYCANTHROPE, Direct, $5: Monkshood, warm fur, tuber, elm bark, artemisia, galbanum, weathered rock, silver moonlight
- LYRA, $5: Misty aldehydes, mandora blossom, spring hyacinth, forsythia, new leaves, melted snow
- MIDWINTER DUSK, $5: Chilled evergreen boughs and bunches of mistletoe, a blanket of evening frost, distant sleigh bells, the soft glow of gas lamps on snowy cobblestone streets
- MIDWINTER DUSK, $5: Chilled evergreen boughs and bunches of mistletoe, a blanket of evening frost, distant sleigh bells, the soft glow of gas lamps on snowy cobblestone streets
- SAVE FERRIS, Ajevie Slink, $3.5: "Funnel cakes & lemonade from Wrigley field, salted pretzels, bright blue skies, cool Lake Michigan breeze, Bueller… Bueller… "
- SINTERKLAAS, $3.5 (decanted into a thicker vial that’s approximately 2/3 full but measured to be around 1/5 of a bottle): Cake flour and sugared dough, royal icing, mulled wine, foil-wrapped candies, speculaas cookies, a cozy hearth
- SOLSTICE BONFIRE, $5: Dark rum, grey ash, black amber, firewood bales, pine needle, charcoal, cedar, & billowing smoke on crisp winter air
- TALIA, $5: Vanilla, moss, ivy, soft musk, stone
- THE HEART IS A LONELY HUNTER, RES BATCH, half decant in a thicker vial, $3.5 (decanted into a thicker vial that’s approximately 2/3 full but measured to be around 1/5 of a bottle): Tuberose absolute, soft skin musk, oakmoss, fresh earth, vanilla, iris
- THE NOTHING, $5: The emptiness that’s left: Black clouds, stormy winds, broken mirrors, deep water, rock dust, I will just sit here and let it take me away too
- TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT, $5: Swirls of tranquil incense, flickering farolitos, piñon and juniper wood, far-off carols drifting on desert wind
- TURTLE DOVES, Ajevie Slink, $3.5: Frasier fir, frozen sidewalks, snowy park benches, twinkling fairy lights and silver bells, a flurry of soft feathers, warm mittens, a wooden toy chest, delicate porcelain musk
- VILLAINS, $5: Candle soot, pine rosin, blood red pomegranate, howling forest winds, darkened crystals, sacred herbs
- VULPECULA, $5: Pools of rainwater, soaked pebbles, tomato leaf, decaying tree bark, wild brambles, dusty fur
- WAKING IN WINTER, half decant in a thicker vial, $3.5 (decanted into a thicker vial that’s approximately 2/3 full but measured to be around 1/5 of a bottle): fir needle, hemlock, soft snow, pale woods, delicate mint, frost-blanketed leaves, cold metal, distant hearthsmoke
- A PARTY OR SOMETHING, $1: Marigolds, yellow cake, white chocolate, pistachio buttercream, Iso E Super, Cashmeran
- WHAT BIG EYES YOU HAVE, $2.75: Immortelle absolute, lemon meringue pie, pearlescent vanilla musk
- ENCHANTED DEW DROPS, 4.5 mL Roller, $9.5: (dew/jade/light smoke/stone moss) - A glowing vial containing healing dew from the misty peak of treacherous Mount Eumedes (will appear in rain during spring equinox if an acceptable offering of fire is made).
- KING MOONRACER, Doll Size, $3: Oceanic musk, cool night air, sea salt, pu-erh tea and night-blooming jasmine.
- OGOPOGO, Doll Size, $3: Cool Rippling lake, water lily, seaweed and snake skin.
- OPALINE, Mini Roller, $3: Iridescent and heavy stones of opalized amber, birds of paradise, frozen yucca and lacquered teak[pearl-stone/opal-amber accord/birds of paradise/cold yucca/camphorous teak]
- PÊCHE IMMORTELLE, 4.5 mL Roller, $9.5: Saturn peach and aged cognac enclosed in humid jade glass, unearthed after midnight alongside dewy blooms of star jasmine and clary sage
- PEEL, Mini Roller, $3: Spiraled peels of heaven scent Valencia orange, lumia lemon and perfectly ripe strawberries and banana[orange/strawberry/banana/fruity ozone/lemon]
- PICKEREL FROG (LITHOBATES PALUSTRIS), 4.5 mL Roller, $9.5: Night blooming jasmine, wet grass, algae, and tomato leaf.
- POTTED CHIPTUNIA, YellingCat Decant, $1.5: (petunia/leaf/fresh soil/clay/static) - A refreshing, inhibiting flower, grown and engineered in Chiptown.
- REVERIE, Doll Size, $3: Frozen pollen, prickly gooseberry vine, raw cashmere wool and midnight blooming primrose[aldehydic-powdery floral musk/gooseberry fougere/cashmere/wild primrose]
- SCAREDY CATS, 4.5 mL Roller, $9.5: Sheet white marshmallow, midnight sugar cookies and an extinguished candle squares on a hot rainy day.
- SOLAR CROAKUS, Mini Roller, $3: An inner effervescence heightened by notes of warm patchouli, bronze crocus, dry sandalwood, sun flare ozone and warm skin musk[patchouli/sandalwood/bronze crocus/warm ozone/skin musk]
- TOTALLY IN LOVE 4.5 mL Roller, $9.5: Soft purple and glowing from within; raspberry cotton candy with a delicate bouquet of jasmine, rose and heliotrope while shadows dance at sunset.
- UNHOLY WATER, Mini Roller, $3: Barbed wire and rust, sacrificial blood orange, cursed saffron licked by flames of a burning chapel.
2023.05.29 08:08 raskulous Vegas noob, just landed back home. Here are my thoughts.
My post about where to play, from last week. https://www.reddit.com/pokecomments/13oedo1/going_to_vegas_for_the_first_time_where_should_i/
First trip to Vegas review:
I found the games in Vegas to be much tighter than my local casinos in Edmonton or Calgary.
I played probably 30 hours total between Mandalay, Aria, MGM and the Golden Nugget. I'm a fairly tight player, but I like to splash around with loose/aggressive play too, especially to take advantage of other tight players. Nothing more fun than busting a tight player with some stupid ass 2-pair or straight when they have a high pocket pair.
In Vegas there seems to be quite a few new players, which is good, but there isn't a lot of splashing around going on. It's super common to have post-flop action with only 2 or 3 players after a raise to $7 or $10.
It's good in a way because you can bluff more and fold easily when the tight players are betting hard.
Locally in Alberta there are far more regulars/gamblers that play loose aggressive and it makes it really hard to play if you buy in for less than $300. It seems like every pot is raised to $15 or much higher pre-flop, and you're playing for half your stack to see a showdown.
One night at MGM a player sat down with $800 to make sure he covered the whole table, then started pushing everyone around. If you want to play, it's going to be for your whole stack. Reminded me of home!
In Vegas you can sit down with $100 and nurse it all day, especially before nightfall. I was buying in for $200 instead of my usual $300 back home. There were several times I was down to $75 or lower, and I still didn't feel that short stacked. You just wait for your opportunities and build back up.
Overall the Golden Nugget was my fav by far. The old-school vibe, the crazy busy casino floor, and the game itself was just better. I even liked the players there more.. it's more laid back, and the table chatter is chill. The cocktail service was much worse though lol.. I was just nursing a headache and coffees all day, so that's no biggie for me.
Verdict is I really like the games I played in Vegas, but my style of play doesn't really lend well to building a huge stack there. I was down $500 near the beginning of my trip and built back up to roughly $150 up for the week. Overall I'll call it a success, and tons of fun.
I can't wait to go back.
submitted by raskulous to poker [link] [comments]
First trip to Vegas review:
I found the games in Vegas to be much tighter than my local casinos in Edmonton or Calgary.
I played probably 30 hours total between Mandalay, Aria, MGM and the Golden Nugget. I'm a fairly tight player, but I like to splash around with loose/aggressive play too, especially to take advantage of other tight players. Nothing more fun than busting a tight player with some stupid ass 2-pair or straight when they have a high pocket pair.
In Vegas there seems to be quite a few new players, which is good, but there isn't a lot of splashing around going on. It's super common to have post-flop action with only 2 or 3 players after a raise to $7 or $10.
It's good in a way because you can bluff more and fold easily when the tight players are betting hard.
Locally in Alberta there are far more regulars/gamblers that play loose aggressive and it makes it really hard to play if you buy in for less than $300. It seems like every pot is raised to $15 or much higher pre-flop, and you're playing for half your stack to see a showdown.
One night at MGM a player sat down with $800 to make sure he covered the whole table, then started pushing everyone around. If you want to play, it's going to be for your whole stack. Reminded me of home!
In Vegas you can sit down with $100 and nurse it all day, especially before nightfall. I was buying in for $200 instead of my usual $300 back home. There were several times I was down to $75 or lower, and I still didn't feel that short stacked. You just wait for your opportunities and build back up.
Overall the Golden Nugget was my fav by far. The old-school vibe, the crazy busy casino floor, and the game itself was just better. I even liked the players there more.. it's more laid back, and the table chatter is chill. The cocktail service was much worse though lol.. I was just nursing a headache and coffees all day, so that's no biggie for me.
Verdict is I really like the games I played in Vegas, but my style of play doesn't really lend well to building a huge stack there. I was down $500 near the beginning of my trip and built back up to roughly $150 up for the week. Overall I'll call it a success, and tons of fun.
I can't wait to go back.
2023.05.29 01:03 Trash_Tia Camp Redwood is running out of counsellors! These children... THEY'RE NOT CHILDREN.
In hindsight, I should have listened to the kill-bill alarm bells in my head when eight-year-old Cassie announced she and her cabin mates were going to skip out on camp activities and play Operation instead.
Though it’s not like I didn’t have things on my mind. Seven counsellors had gone missing—along with our head counsellor who was supposed to be taking care of us.
It started out fairly normal. I mean, one or two counselors wasn’t bad, right?
Lily and Joey had been drowning in sexual tension for a while, so nobody was surprised when they sneaked into the woods for what I could only guess was the most uncomfortable sex ever. But then they didn’t come back.
Teddy and Yuri went to look for them, and then they too also disappeared. It was almost like a wild animal was lying in wait for another unsuspecting teenager to cross its path.
With six of us left, I was definitely freaking out.
I wasn’t expecting summer camp to be like this. I did consider working in my local Sephora, but mom had a preference—and whether I was eighteen years old or not, she was getting her way. So, it was goodbye civilization, and hello Canadian wilderness.
There were fifteen kids queued up in front of me for lunch, and I was having a hard time keeping that optimistic Camp Redwood smile.
I couldn’t help constantly counting how many hours it had been since the latest disappearance, Connor.
He was supposed to be helping with getting the emergency generator going, after the electricity sizzled out.
The boy was gone an hour later. This was happening fast. Whatever was going on with the counsellors was burning through all of us. Would it happen to me?
I had seen so many TV shows and movies set in a summer camp where every camper and counsellor was doomed to die in the grossest way possible. Was that going to happen to us?
I tightened my grip around the stupid ladle I had found myself stirring, a giant pot of chocolate syrup. Watching watery chocolate drip from the edge, I felt nauseous. Of all the summer camp’s mom had to send me to, it had to be the one with vanishing counsellors and zero adult authority. Which meant we were the authority. Twelve teenagers who came to relax and babysit a bunch of little kids before college.
We had to put on brave faces and pretend everything was absolutely fine—and we weren’t all terrified out of our fucking minds.
At the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Harry offering piggybacks to a bunch of little kids, with one of the littles, Eleanor, wrapping her arms around his neck and squealing.
From the look on the boy’s face, he wanted to stop. It was hard to keep a façade when reality was becoming harder and harder to bear. Abandoning his hat completely, Harry was dripping with sweat, trying to twist his lips into the Camp Redwood grin. But looking closer, as he galloped across the cabin with Eleanor holding on for dear life, the guy was ready to collapse. I didn’t blame him.
Entertaining the kids was supposed to be Teddy’s assignment—and he was who knows where. I had taken over lunch duties for Lily, who had joined the long list of the missing.
Harry was supposed to be joining the search party for the missing councellors, but had ended up becoming the little’s personal punching bag.
When I first met him, Harry Carlisle had been the kid who sat on the side-lines and offered sarcastic remarks and crude jokes. Now, he had been reduced to a playground ride the kids pretended didn’t have an off switch.
He had enjoyed maybe the first two rides to raise morale, but now I could see the strain in his eyes. “Ow!” Harry winced when the little girl’s fingers prodded at his eyes. “Hey! Eleanor, not my eyes!” He was dangerously close to toppling over, though managed to catch his footing, ordering all of them off of his back. “Horse Rides are over!” He cupped his mouth, shouting across the cabin when a group of kids surrounded him with equally terrifying faces. Harry backed away and threw his hands up. “Come on, guys, my back isn’t built for all of you!”
“Horsey!” The kids shouted back in a cacophony of giggles.
It was 10 against one.
Against two, if I got involved. Which wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I was putting effort into play-fighting a bunch of eight-year-olds. Harry shot me a hopeful look, though I pretended not to see, busying myself with slightly burned nuggets.
Running his fingers through thick strands of sandy colored hair, Harry pulled a face when a little girl, Phoebe, was brave enough to step forward.
“No.” Harry shook his head, squeezing the front of his counsellor shirt practically glued to him. The temperature still hadn’t let up, and it was heading towards 8PM. Night-time, I thought dizzily. It was almost bedtime, and still no adults. “I refuse to surrender,” He told her. “Phoebe, I am not joking around when I’m saying my back is hurting. We’ve been playing horsey’s for two hours.”
“So?”
“So!” Harry couldn’t yell or hiss, or swear at them. That was a big no-no with kids.
However, I could see he was coming close to breaking that rule. “Because I’m tired,” he said through a Camp Redwood grin, which was quickly twitching into a grimace.
I think all of us had given up with the fake enthusiasm when our colleagues started to vanish. Now, we were just shells of our former happy selves. “And… uh… did you know that if you ride a horsey at this time, the ghosts will come and get you?”
When a boy opened his mouth, his eyes widening with fright, Harry realized his mistake.
“I mean the nice ghosts! Yeah! The uh, the nice ghosts who haunt..I mean play in these woods? It’s a well-known Camp Redwood legend that ghosts don’t like horse rides. In fact,” his lips curved into a devilish smile now he had several faces staring at him. The kids dropped onto the ground to listen, their hands clasped in their laps. This was the quietest they had been all day. I could understand though. Harry had taken the reins around the campfire telling ghost stories for three nights in a row, and the guy was a damn good storyteller.
With every eye on him, Harry lowered his voice into a whisper. “Do you guys want to know what they do?”
The kids nodded with wide eyes.
“They sneak into unsuspecting cabin’s…”
“Harry.”
Rowan’s voice came from outside in a warning. The window was open, and the guy was standing watch to see if any counsellors came back. Since the only adult had disappeared, he had been appointed leader—and the guy was taking himself a little too seriously.
His warning was valid though. Sometimes Harry’s ghost stories were a little too scary for little kids, who’s Imaginations tended to run wild—especially at night. Olive, my cabin-mate, had to give up her bed for a little girl who was convinced Harry’s depiction of Slenderman, “The tree boy” was going to sneak into her bed and turn her into an apple seed.
“Did I say sneak into cabin’s? I meant dance around the woods…” Harry corrected himself. “And they look for their next unsuspecting victim…”
“Harry!”
“Friend.” Harry swallowed his words when a little boy’s eyes went wide. “I mean they are looking for a friend! So, the point of my story is…”
“Horsey rides get us new friends?” Phoebe wasn’t buying it. I could tell from the slight arch of her brow and her widening smile.
The girl shook dark curls out of her face, smirking. I think it was her pleading eyes which won him over. Because, with a sigh which definitely wasn’t joking around, the guy dropped onto his knees and practically spat at her to climb on his back—and she did, plonking one sparkling shoe on top of the boy’s spine with enough force to send him onto his stomach. I might have been imagining it, but since when were these littles so outlandishly spiteful?
The little girl was grinning. Not because she could ride her “horsey” but because Harry looked like he was going to either wring her neck, or wring his own. Mom had a “talk” before I started here, and she made sure to tell me that if adult authority is nowhere to be seen, little kids will start to act out.
I could definitely call it acting out, but I had spent all day with her several days earlier playing with dolls and having a teddy bear picnic when she admitted she didn’t want to swim in the lake with the other kids. Phoebe had been shy and only spoke to me through her teddy bear, so what had changed?
Could the lack of adults really be scaring the kids that much?
“Miss Josie?”
I wasn’t paying attention, half noticing some kids had just helped themselves, piling chicken nuggets and cookies on plastic plates and hurrying to their seats like I couldn’t see them.
Blinking away brain fog, I found myself face to face with Eli, who was probably my favorite camper.
You’re not supposed to have personal preferences when working with little kids, because your opinions could upset them.
However, it was incredibly hard not to like Eli.
Hiding behind a mop of brown curls, the boy was one of the more vocal kids in the group. Eli said he wanted to be an inventor when he was older, and he wanted to make robots. The kid had asked me if I wanted to see his robot collection, but I was too busy with setting up camp activities. Standing in front of me and clutching his tray, the boy was frowning.
“Josie, I just saw some kids steal chicken nuggets.”
I shrugged, shovelling a large portion on his tray. “Well, you can have some extra too.”
Eli’s smile wasn’t as big as usual. “Where’s Teddy?”
I pretended to be oblivious, hastily adding more nuggets to his tray as if I could keep his mouth shut with extra food. “He’ll be back soon! Teddy is just playing in the woods.”
“No, he’s not.”
At first, I thought I’d heard the boy wrong. The kid wasn’t looking at me, counting his nuggets as usual with the prongs of his plastic fork.
I leaned forward with my best smile. “I’m sorry, what was that, Eli?”
The kid lifted his head with a wide grin. “Can I borrow a knife, Josie?”
“Why do you need a knife?”
Leaning forward, the boy shrugged. “There’s a squirrel caught in a trap,” he said. “I want to put it out of its misery, Miss Josie. It’s in a lot of pain.”
That was… dark.
“Well, I can’t give you a knife…” I trailed off, my gaze finding Harry and the growing line of kids awaiting a horse-ride. “But! How about you go and ask Harry for a piggy-back ride?” I pointed to myself with a forced grin. “I’ll save the squirrel!” And when the boy’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, I reached out, grasped his hand, and squeezed it as tight as I could. “Eli, we don’t need to do that, okay? I’m sure the squirrel can be saved and I’ll make sure to take it to the vet, okay?”
“But what if it doesn’t need saving?”
I squeezed tighter. “I’ll save it, Eli. I promise.”
Eli didn’t look convinced, but he nodded with a grumble. “Okay.” He said, before twisting around and joining the other kids torturing Harry. Immediately, I left my station—whether Rowan liked it or not—and headed outside to look for this supposedly dying squirrel. That was something we didn’t need. The sky was darkening when I made it into the woods, cotton candy clouds blurring through the thick canopy of trees. Eli said it was near the sign pointing towards the lake. Though I couldn’t see anything. Odd. That thought retracted in my head, however, when I stepped forward, and a squelching sound cut through the silence of my own heavy breaths mixing with insect chitters and nightlife buzzing above me and beneath me. The wet sounding squelch twisted my gut, and when I stared down at the ground, I didn't know what I was expecting.
A squashed squirrel, perhaps? In Eli’s words, the poor thing had been on the edge of death. Though, when I was thinking about it, there were no animal traps around camp. That was basic health and safety. So, what the fuck was I looking at? The bottom of my shoe was caked in dried blood, but it was the thing which was stamped into the dirt which sent my heart into my throat. It looked like an eye.
But looking closer as I lowered myself to the ground, I glimpsed something metallic, something glistening around the pupil. I picked up a stick and prodded it, though the thing didn’t move. It was definitely an eye—the eye of some kind of animal, judging from the pigmentation and the color of the iris.
But it was the metallic pieces around the eye which was throwing me off. Part of a trap, maybe? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that a poor critter had been ripped apart, and a wild bear had dropped its dinner near the camp—and the metal encasing its eye was most likely pieces of trap.
Peering closer, though, I glimpsed silver slithers in what appeared to be the destroyed nerve caked to my shoe. After scraping most of it off, I caught glistening pieces of blood stained metal catching the late-setting sun. This time, I pinched a piece between my forefinger and thumb. It didn’t look like a bear-trap. The metal itself wasn’t serrated or old. In fact, it was new.
Which begged the question: What was this thing?
Whatever it was, it had started converting what looked like a critter’s eye, before stopping. Was it a virus? When that thought slammed into me, I fell back with a hiss, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I almost jumped out of my skin, diving to my feet.
Carmel was standing behind me, grasping what looked like her sixth or seventh coffee. The girl had been running to and from the coffee machine all day, and I had been silently counting how much caffeine she was consuming. Carmel had been a well put together and fairly popular girl when camp started. She immediately had everyone following her beck and call, all of the boy’s (and girl’s) following her around.
Carmel wasn't straight. She made that clear on the bus to camp, announcing she wasn’t interested in guy’s, and that she had a girlfriend back home. Still though, the guy’s still followed her because... well, she was pretty.
Carmel was my bunk-mate and had woken me up on three separate occasions at 6am to go through the exact same hair and makeup routine. Now though, there was no sign of makeup or even that she had brushed her hair.
Instead of its usual tidy blonde ponytail, Carmel’s curls were tied into raggedy pigtails with ribbons I was sure she had stolen from a camper’s doll. I think what was keeping her going was coffee.
Carmel regarded me with too-wide eyes and a Camp Redwood smile we all knew was fake. She was grasping onto her coffee cup for dear life. “Josie!” she jumped when I jumped, which almost made me laugh. “Rowan’s having an emergency meeting in his cabin,” she said.
“So, whatever you’re doing can wait.”
Her gaze flicked to the ground. “What… are you doing?”
For a brief moment, I considered telling Carmel I may have found what looked like a virus which turned flesh and blood to metal—before I remembered her reaction when a spider had crept into our cabin.
Whatever this thing was, keeping it a secret for now was probably what was best. Making sure I was standing on the thing, I shrugged. “I was looking for the others.”
Carmel cocked her head, before resting her coffee on the ground. “In the dirt?”
“Footprints, Carmel.”
The girl looked confused before shaking her head. “Okay, whatever. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec, I just need to make sure the kids are okay. We’re putting a movie on for them in the lunch hall, so that will hopefully distract them for maybe two hours.”
I nodded. “Did anyone find a phone?”
“Not with signal.”
“Carmel.” I had to fight back the urge to yell at her to keep her voice down. Kids were curious, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we had some littles peeking into our conversation. “You’re okay.” I said softly.
“I mean, we’re not okay, because yes, things are very.. screwed up right now, but we need to be… optimistic.” I exhaled out a breath, searching for eyes in the dark. I tried to smile, tried to keep up that Camp Redwood façade we were all held hostage by until the last day of camp (According to rule 5 in the Camp Redwood counsellor handbook, all counsellors must retain a smile and a positive attitude. If any counselor is caught making a frowny face, or spreading what we call “unhappiness” we will be forced to send the counselor home).
At this point, I didn’t give a fuck—but part of me didn’t want to scare the little kids.
“No, Josie.” The girl grasped hold of my shoulders with a grin rivalling the joker. “I am so sick of being told to keep smiling, because what is that doing? Three of my cabin-mates are missing! I’m the one left, and Rowan and co expect me to keep up this act? We are fucked!"
She cupped her mouth. “F. U. C. K. E. D. We have zero adults, an unexplainable loss of power every few hours which makes no sense in the middle of nowhere—I mean what the fuck is out there which is sucking that much power, huh? There is no explanation! There should be an explanation. I should be able to think, “oh, yeah! That’s why! But no. Things are happening, and I don’t know why they’re happening. Rowan is trying to force us to act like things are okay —but in reality? He is shitting himself, Josie! We are ALL shitting ourselves!”
I took a step back, keeping hold of her hand. Carmel was trembling, her hands clammy and slimy entangled in mine. “He's just trying to keep the kids from freaking out."
She groaned, tears glistening in her eyes. “Okay, yeah! I’m blaming them because they keep acting like everything is okay—”
“Everything IS okay.” I turned to her with what I hoped was a reassuring smile—knowing damn well about the thing I’d found in the dirt. If that thing could spread, it would have a field day in an enclosed space like a summer camp.
I noticed my own hands which had been touching the thing making contact with Carmel, and dropped my hands, inwardly squirming.
If that thing was a virus, I was already fucked.
Maybe Carmel too.
If it was fast acting, it could explain the counsellor disappearances. I was already putting together a plan in my head as we headed back to the main cabin. We had to put together a search party. Some of us would stay with the kids, while a small group would venture into the woods to try and look for traces of the missing. If I was right, we would find a horror scene in the woods, and yes, that would be the time to panic.
If I was wrong, however, there was still hope.
“Are we going to be okay?”
Carmel’s voice sliced into my thoughts, and I took a moment to drink in the camp around us.
Usually, when the sky was turning twilight, it would be bustling with campers and counselors toasting marshmallows on the fire and gathering around to fall asleep to Harry’s ghost stories. Carmel would be knelt with a bunch of kids, watching a YouTube video they had all insisted on her watching, while Rowan would be hiding behind his book with his knees to his chest, his gaze glued to every page he flicked through, ignoring everyone.
Teddy, making funny faces for kids who were scared, and Connor, handing out plates of burgers and hot dogs. I remembered feeling safe and at home, cosy around the flickering orange of the fire as chatter turned to laughter and white-noise in my head. After the kids went back to their cabins, the group of us would resume positions around the fire, but this time it was more… intimate. With Allison in her cabin, we kind of ignored her rules all together.
Making out happened, because of course it did. Beers stolen from Allison’s mini fridge and raging hormones, as well as late-night skinny dipping in the lake did that. Couples went off into the woods, and we all felt completely comfortable and at home with each other.
Looking around at that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. That feeling was gone.
The feeling of family and familiarity and friendship. What I was looking at now was that same log we had all sat on, now turned on its side—hot dog buns and candy wrappers littering the ground. It was a ghost camp.
I could still see Connor’s jacket slung on the ground, and Lili’s bright pink ray bans sitting on a beer can. Because there were no adults to yell at us to clean up after ourselves. I was frowning at the skeleton of the fire when Carmel nudged me. “Hey.” Her voice was shaking slightly. “Josie? You didn’t answer my question.” Carmel wanted me to be the voice of reason, and I wasn’t that. I was just as scared as her.
There was only so much I could sugar-coat, and I gave up doing that after the third counsellor disappeared. All I could offer her was forced optimism.
“Yes.” I said. “Just keep the kids busy, alright?”
“Right.”
When I was twisting around and power-walking to Rowan’s cabin, I shouted over my shoulder, “Give them some of those animal crackers!”
“What animal crackers?”
I turned to elaborate, but Carmel was gone.
When I finally got to Rowan’s cabin, I was sweating through my shirt, and had an idea of what I was going to tell the others. It was… a thing. Which could be considered a disease or a virus—so it was vital that we split into two groups; half of us would search for the others, while the others would look for anything to get in contact with the outside world. An emergency landline, laptop, or cell phone.
I did have one problem, which was lack of evidence. All which was left from the thing I’d found was stuck to my foot. The rest of it was buried in the dirt. It was too dark to search for it, and we would be wasting time doing so.
All of that was in my mind and tangled on my tongue, one single string of incomprehensible gibberish I wasn’t even sure was English, when I stepped into Rowan’s cabin, where four sets of eyes met mine. Olive, cross legged on the floor with her arms folded, Harry, pacing up and down with a brand new bruise blooming under his eye, courtesy of Eleanor almost poking his eyes out—and Rowan himself sitting on top bunk, his legs swinging off of the side.
The guy wasn’t built to be our leader, originally being the laziest of our group, opting for sitting in a tree with a book, rather than helping set up camp activities. Yet he had become our default guy in charge because he so happened to be wearing the head counsellor hat when Allison disappeared. Admittedly, it suited him, the bright red of the cap contrasted his dark curls under a late setting sun through the back window, setting strands of straying hair on fire.
The hat was a little too big for his head, though, slipping over his eyes.
Rowan looked like a divorced father of two, dark circles bruising his eyes, and a very “dad-like” scowl curling on his lips.
With a clipboard pressed to his chest, and a pen he was chewing on, the boy resembled a grown man who had just caught his daughter coming in after curfew. “Josie.” Spitting the pen’s lid out of his mouth, he scribbled something down. I had no doubt he was tracking my attendance for these stupid crisis meetings. His eyes were wild, scanning me for answers. “Where the fuck is Carmel?”
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it with my arms folded. “So, we can swear now?”
“Yes.” Rowan rolled his eyes. “There are no kids here, so go crazy,” he pointed at me with the pen. “Carmel. Where is she?”
“Keeping the kids busy,” Callan’s muffled voice came from the bottom bunk. I could barely see the guy lying on his stomach, his face stuffed into a pillow. “It was my idea to play Shrek for them, but the little shits said they haven’t seen it,” the boy lifted his head, his lips carved into a scowl. “I’m sorry, am I tripping? Everyone’s seen Shrek! Do these kids expect the Minecraft movie?”
“They don’t like that, either,” Harry stopped pacing the cabin. “Eleanor looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if she liked it."
“Fortnite, too.” Olive said, a cushion pressed to her chest. “I suggested playing it a few days ago, and like, zero kids knew what it was.”
“Six counsellors are missing,” Rowan raised his voice over the other’s chatter. “And you’re questioning what games they like?” His eyes found mine once more. “So, Carmel is with the kids? You’re absolutely sure of it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just saw her five minutes ago.”
“Great.” Rowan said, sarcastically. “I’m sure she won’t go missing under mysterious circumstances.”
“Stop.” Olive shot him a glare, throwing a cushion in his face. “I told you. They’re probably lost—- or maybe they went to get help?”
“We’ve all been trained to know every inch of these woods,” Rowan catapulted the cushion right back at her. “They’re not lost.”
“Well, where are they?!” Callan sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. I had never seen the guy looked this vulnerable. “Allison made sense. She probably had other duties, and left us to look after the kids. But six counselors? All of them disappearing—- our phone signal completely cutting out, electricity cutting off, not once, but twice? What is even sucking all of our power?”
“I got the emergency generator working,” Olive raised her arm. “Connor and I managed it before…” she trailed off.
“Before Connor disappeared.” Callan finished for her. “And before him, it was Joey, Lily, Mira, Yuri, Noah, and Teddy. Which isn’t a fucking coincidence,” he shot Rowan a look, who glared down at his lap. I could tell the boy didn’t want to lead all of us, come up with plans and answer questions we desperately needed answering. His job was to look after us, as well as the littles, and so far, he was doing a pretty good job. I could tell by his expression that he thought the opposite, but he had managed to keep the kids from finding out about something as sinister as someone actively kidnapping counsellors.
He made sure they were fed, entertained, and safe watching a movie—while we were scared for our lives. Rowan was keeping up the façade no matter how scared he was. The boy dropped his head into his lap with a sigh. It looked like he might fall asleep before he slammed the clipboard into his face to wake himself up.
Nobody wanted to admit what Callan was saying, but we were all definitely thinking it. “This was planned.” Callan continued.
“Someone out here is fucking with us, very clearly trying to freak us out. Now they've got six of us. ” He spread out his arms. “How long until one of the littles gets taken, huh? A bunch of 18 year olds aren’t going to satisfy them, so what about when they start taking campers? We are in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere with a serial kidnapper on the loose, and did we really just leave fifteen kids in the care of a girl who thought Australia was in England?”
“In Carmel’s defence, she was black-out drunk when she said that,” Olive murmured.
“Voice down!” Rowan hissed. “Do you want to scare them?!” His gaze flicked to me. “Did you do a headcount during dinner?”
I nodded. “Fifteen kids all accounted for. Ten are in the lunch hall, and five girls are in Cassie’s cabin playing Operation.”
“All day?” Olive spoke up. “Weren’t they playing that this morning? I tried to get into their cabin to give them breakfast, but they just shooed me away and locked the door.”
“Fuck.” Rowan ran his fingers down his face. “Alright, I’ll go and see what’s going on with them. Knowing Cassie and her friends, they’re probably zonked out on stolen candy. When all of the kids are accounted for in the lunch cabin, we gather outside.”
I swallowed, speaking up. “I actually wanted to talk to you guys about something.”
Rowan lifted his head, jutting the edge of the clipboard into his chin. “Go on…”
“I found something?” I pulled a face. “I mean, think I’ve found something?”
I wasn't sure how to explain to a dwindling group of exhausted teenagers that there may be something even more terrifying than potential kidnappers out there. Four blank faces started back at me, and Rowan leaned forward with a frown. “Like, in general? Josie, we don’t have time to go foraging.”
“You could call it a lead,” I said. “But I need your eyes to find it.”
“Uh-huh. But what is it?”
Thinking back to what exactly I had seen, I had no idea how to describe it. “It’s better if I just… showed you.”
Rowan looked sceptical, but nodded. “Alright. Josie comes with me. We’ll check out Allison’s cabin again to look for an emergency line, and you can show me whatever this ‘thing’ is you’ve found. Then we’ll escort Cassie and the other girl’s to the lunch cabin. Every camper needs an escort from now on. The rest of you? Act normal. If the kids see you freaking out, they will also freak out—and we need to keep up morale.” The boy pointed to Olive. “Olive, you sit in with the kids and look after them. Callan, check out the emergency generator. Harry, the kids see you as a playground ride, so use that to your advantage. Offer them horse rides if they’re scared. And with the ghost stories, it’s making it worse. Give them piggybacks.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Rowan cleared his throat. “We all keep up appearances. If the others turn up, after getting high or… I don’t know, having an orgy in the woods—- I will fucking kill them.” The way he smiled through his teeth, jumping off the bunk, his toes primed like a wild animal, I knew he wasn’t joking. If this was a well-constructed prank the other counselors were playing, I had no doubt Rowan would rip them apart for leaving him as a reluctant leader. To my surprise, the others wandered off with their tasks.
I watched Rowan lift up his pillow and pull out a pack of animal crackers, ripping open the bag and pouring the contents into his mouth. He caught my eye, crunching through mini animal crackers. “I didn’t have lunch,” he said through a mouthful.
I couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief as we headed across camp, Rowan in front of me, while I lagged behind.
“So, what’s the plan?” I caught up to him, almost tripping over a log.
The guy didn’t turn around. “I am completely winging it,” he said through a choked laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and if I’m honest? I just want to go home, dude. I haven’t looked after this many kids in my life, and if I have to smile one more time as a little brat, I am going to fucking lose my mind.” He heaved out a breath. “I am making this up as I go along.”
I laughed that time. “That’s… comforting.”
“Yeah?” He turned to shoot me a grin. “Well, rest assured I am just about as scared—if not more scared than you,” as we stopped in front of Cassie’s cabin, his gaze found mine. “Is it me…” he said softly, “Or does the lunch cabin seem quiet.”
He was right. The windows were dark when they should have been illuminated by the TV screen. Instead of answering, I stepped in front of him, grasping hold of the cabin door. “Cassie?” I knocked three times. “Girl’s, are you okay in there? It’s Josie and Rowan.” I tried the door, and it slid open. Shooting a look at the boy behind me, I turned back to the door. “We’re coming in, okay?”
“Wait!”
Cassie squeaked from inside. “But he’s not finished!”
Ignoring the coil of dread unravelling in my gut, I forced the door open and stepped into unusually milky white light which flooded the cabin. The first thing I saw was eight-year-old Cassie, sitting cross legged with her back to me. She was sitting in a circle with the other girls, no doubt playing their game.
When I stepped closer, however, I noticed something pooling across the wooden floor. It must have been juice or water that they had spilled. I took another step, but this time, clammy fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. Rowan didn't speak, but his eyes were elsewhere. Initially, they had been drinking in the cabin before they found oblivion entirely. I heard his breath start to accelerate, his grip tightening on my wrist.
I had half a mind to pull away, before I saw the body shaped carcass the girls were sitting around. In the dim light of the cabin, it used to be a person. Teddy. I could still see parts of an identity, freckled cheeks and eyes which were still open, still staring at the sky.
But that was where the similarities to the missing counsellor ended. The thing which used to be Teddy was more of a shell, a scooped out thing resembling a human body. What sent me stumbling backwards, my mouth open in a silent scream, was the almost surgical efficiency of each organ's removal, like it really was a game of operation. His heart, lungs, and intestines were in one pile-- while his brain was cupped between little Cassie's bloody hands— and when my gaze found the little girl, Nina, hiding behind dark curly hair, I was seeing what looked like a toy robot’s head in her hands. In my head, I was thinking about the eye with the metallic pieces glittering around its pupil, and something turned in my gut.
Did I find a human eye?
I was staring at the crevice inside the boy's skull, and the boxes of surgical equipment piled on the girl's bunks, when Rowan finally pulled me back, and I was stumbling straight onto my ass. "We need to go." Rowan spoke through a croak. Cassie’s words rattled in my head. Teddy, I thought.
Teddy wasn’t finished.
"Josie. Get up. Now!" My head was spinning, and I was sure I'd thrown up. I didn’t even realize we had managed to stumble from the girl’s cabin before cool air grazed my face, tickling my cheeks. Something wet and warm, and lumpy was spattering the front of my shirt.
Before I could coerce words, the boy was pulling me to my feet, and I was seeing stars in my eyes, blinking brightly. When the two of us started forwards in a run, Rowan stopped abruptly. I followed his gaze to find several kids surrounding his cabin, where Harry, Olive and Callan were. Maybe I was hallucinating, but Eleanor and Phoebe, both of whom wielding weapons where I had no idea where they had gotten them—looked… taller? Rowan didn’t waste time, dragging me back. “Allison’s cabin.” He spoke in cry which became a sob, pulling me across camp, stumbling over rocky ground.
“We need a phone. Fuck, we need a phone. We need a phone.” Rowan was struggling to stand, occasionally bending over and choking up dust.
“They were playing Operation."
Literal operation.
“But they’re just kids!” I choked out.
Little kids, who had surgically removed every organ inside Teddy’s body.
Little kids, who were hunting the other counsellors down, and would surely be coming for us.
Allison’s cabin was thankfully further into the woods. When we were safe inside and Rowan was locking the door, I dry heaved several times, unable to get the sight of glistening gore splattering the cabin floor from my mind. “Josie.” Rowan was already tearing apart the cabin. “Work with me here, okay? We don’t… we don’t have fucking time to freak out, or to barf—we need to help. Now.” Rowan was almost in tears, and when he hit the ground on his knees, I took over. I searched Allison’s desk first. Nothing of importance, just documents and invoices. Digging through her draw, there was still nothing. We were running out of time.
Abandoning the desk, I went through her suitcase and bags. When I was crawling under her bed to try and find a weapon, Rowan hissed out. “Wait.” When I turned to him, he was still kneeling, but his foot was clamping down on a loose plank. The guy didn’t hesitate, pulling at the loose plank, which, to my confusion, revealed what looked to me like a trap door.
Rowan turned to me. “You’re kidding.”
I could only stare at the trap door revealing stone steps. He peered down, his voice echoing. “Allison has a fucking secret bunker?”
His lips curved into a surprisingly childish grin which took me off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s so cooooool!”
Lifting my head at the sound of loud squealing, I glimpsed a group of littles led by Eleanor stalking towards us. Eleanor had a hostage. Harry. And with the way she was sticking the blade of a scary looking knife to his throat, I figured she meant business.
Their height difference was almost comical. The eighteen year old guy had to hunch over so the little girl could successfully keep him prisoner. Behind them in the trees, I could see something illuminating the dark, an electric blue light bathing their faces.
So, that was there the power was going.
But what the fuck were these eight-year-old’s doing?
“Josie!” Rowan hissed from down below. He had already climbed down.
I joined him, struggling down the stone steps, before replacing the loose plank. If these kids were as smart as I thought, it wouldn’t take them long to realize the loose plank—also a trap door. Allison’s bunker was more of a control room. There were multiple screens lit up, a chair in front of a working MacBook. The phone-line was cut. But that didn’t make sense.
The kids were unaware of the bunker, so who cut the phone lines? Rowan was on the laptop, struggling to get through the password protection, so I turned my attention to piles of cardboard boxes.
When I opened them, I found myself staring at animal crackers.
There were hundreds of them, packed on top of each other. Looking further, digging through the boxes, I found a piece of old crumpled paper which looked ancient.
REGARDING PROJECT SPEARHEAD SUBJECTS:
PLEASE DO NOT INGEST UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. IF MULTIPLE SUBJECTS INGEST, PLEASE USE SELF DESTRUCT.
ONLY USE IN CASES SUCH AS IMMINENT DESTRUCTION TO THE PLANET/THREAT OF NUCLEAR WAR.
(PLEASE CONTACT FAMILIES IN ADVANCE. MAKE SURE TO INGEST WITH WATER TO AVOID NEUROLOGICAL SYMPTOMS SUCH AS PSYCHOSIS, EXTREME VIOLENCE. PLEASE APPROACH SUBJECTS WITH CAUTION.
Something ice cold slithered down my spine.
Abandoning the boxes, I searched through a cabinet filled with files which were crumbling apart from age. I picked one at random and flicked through it.
Eleanor Summer’s.
Sex: Female.
DOB: 08/05/1977.
Initially, I thought I was reading the dates wrong. But then, with my heart in my throat, I was grasping for other files.
Eli Evermore.
Sex: Male.
'DOB: 08/03/1979.
“Rowan.” I managed to get out through a breath.
“Mm?”
“They’re not children.”
The boy rubbed his eyes, frowning. His eyes were half lidded, almost confused. “Huh?”
“Eleanor.” I whispered. “Is forty five years old.”
He nodded slowly, turning back to the laptop. “How do you spell… documents? I’m looking for digital versions but I can’t find any.”
“You don’t know how to spell documents?”
“It’s been a hard day.” The boy whined, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry.
Whatever I was going to say was choked in the back of my throat, when a loud bang sounded from above, the sounds of childish giggling coming through the floorboards. But the laughter didn’t sound like little kids. No, it sounded like teenager’s who were acting like little kids. I stared at the boxes of animal crackers, and then at the file confirming Eleanor’s real age.
My own words shuddered through me, and I remembered finding Teddy’s dismembered carcass in Cassie’s cabin. When I had caught her gaze, the little girl didn’t look scared, and somehow, her fingers wrapped around the scalpel looked just right.
Like the little bitch knew exactly what she was doing.
“Helloooo?” Harry’s voice was a hysterical giggle. “Olly, Olly, Oxen freeee!”
“Are you in heeeeeeere?” Carmel joined in. I could hear their footsteps above, dancing across the room.
Clamping my hand over my mouth, I dragged my knees to my chest and prayed they weren’t smart enough to figure out we were right underneath them.
Knowing the truth about them, though? I wasn’t counting on it.
….
That was an hour ago.
We’re still stuck down here, and I can get a connection here—thank god. For some reason, Alison has blocked all social media. We need help. We’re at Camp Redwood, and these kids ARE NOT KIDS.
Whatever Project Spearhead is was designed to keep them here.
The phone-line is cut so we can’t get help from whoever was helping Allison. I am counting on you guys.
Get us out of here!
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Though it’s not like I didn’t have things on my mind. Seven counsellors had gone missing—along with our head counsellor who was supposed to be taking care of us.
It started out fairly normal. I mean, one or two counselors wasn’t bad, right?
Lily and Joey had been drowning in sexual tension for a while, so nobody was surprised when they sneaked into the woods for what I could only guess was the most uncomfortable sex ever. But then they didn’t come back.
Teddy and Yuri went to look for them, and then they too also disappeared. It was almost like a wild animal was lying in wait for another unsuspecting teenager to cross its path.
With six of us left, I was definitely freaking out.
I wasn’t expecting summer camp to be like this. I did consider working in my local Sephora, but mom had a preference—and whether I was eighteen years old or not, she was getting her way. So, it was goodbye civilization, and hello Canadian wilderness.
There were fifteen kids queued up in front of me for lunch, and I was having a hard time keeping that optimistic Camp Redwood smile.
I couldn’t help constantly counting how many hours it had been since the latest disappearance, Connor.
He was supposed to be helping with getting the emergency generator going, after the electricity sizzled out.
The boy was gone an hour later. This was happening fast. Whatever was going on with the counsellors was burning through all of us. Would it happen to me?
I had seen so many TV shows and movies set in a summer camp where every camper and counsellor was doomed to die in the grossest way possible. Was that going to happen to us?
I tightened my grip around the stupid ladle I had found myself stirring, a giant pot of chocolate syrup. Watching watery chocolate drip from the edge, I felt nauseous. Of all the summer camp’s mom had to send me to, it had to be the one with vanishing counsellors and zero adult authority. Which meant we were the authority. Twelve teenagers who came to relax and babysit a bunch of little kids before college.
We had to put on brave faces and pretend everything was absolutely fine—and we weren’t all terrified out of our fucking minds.
At the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Harry offering piggybacks to a bunch of little kids, with one of the littles, Eleanor, wrapping her arms around his neck and squealing.
From the look on the boy’s face, he wanted to stop. It was hard to keep a façade when reality was becoming harder and harder to bear. Abandoning his hat completely, Harry was dripping with sweat, trying to twist his lips into the Camp Redwood grin. But looking closer, as he galloped across the cabin with Eleanor holding on for dear life, the guy was ready to collapse. I didn’t blame him.
Entertaining the kids was supposed to be Teddy’s assignment—and he was who knows where. I had taken over lunch duties for Lily, who had joined the long list of the missing.
Harry was supposed to be joining the search party for the missing councellors, but had ended up becoming the little’s personal punching bag.
When I first met him, Harry Carlisle had been the kid who sat on the side-lines and offered sarcastic remarks and crude jokes. Now, he had been reduced to a playground ride the kids pretended didn’t have an off switch.
He had enjoyed maybe the first two rides to raise morale, but now I could see the strain in his eyes. “Ow!” Harry winced when the little girl’s fingers prodded at his eyes. “Hey! Eleanor, not my eyes!” He was dangerously close to toppling over, though managed to catch his footing, ordering all of them off of his back. “Horse Rides are over!” He cupped his mouth, shouting across the cabin when a group of kids surrounded him with equally terrifying faces. Harry backed away and threw his hands up. “Come on, guys, my back isn’t built for all of you!”
“Horsey!” The kids shouted back in a cacophony of giggles.
It was 10 against one.
Against two, if I got involved. Which wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I was putting effort into play-fighting a bunch of eight-year-olds. Harry shot me a hopeful look, though I pretended not to see, busying myself with slightly burned nuggets.
Running his fingers through thick strands of sandy colored hair, Harry pulled a face when a little girl, Phoebe, was brave enough to step forward.
“No.” Harry shook his head, squeezing the front of his counsellor shirt practically glued to him. The temperature still hadn’t let up, and it was heading towards 8PM. Night-time, I thought dizzily. It was almost bedtime, and still no adults. “I refuse to surrender,” He told her. “Phoebe, I am not joking around when I’m saying my back is hurting. We’ve been playing horsey’s for two hours.”
“So?”
“So!” Harry couldn’t yell or hiss, or swear at them. That was a big no-no with kids.
However, I could see he was coming close to breaking that rule. “Because I’m tired,” he said through a Camp Redwood grin, which was quickly twitching into a grimace.
I think all of us had given up with the fake enthusiasm when our colleagues started to vanish. Now, we were just shells of our former happy selves. “And… uh… did you know that if you ride a horsey at this time, the ghosts will come and get you?”
When a boy opened his mouth, his eyes widening with fright, Harry realized his mistake.
“I mean the nice ghosts! Yeah! The uh, the nice ghosts who haunt..I mean play in these woods? It’s a well-known Camp Redwood legend that ghosts don’t like horse rides. In fact,” his lips curved into a devilish smile now he had several faces staring at him. The kids dropped onto the ground to listen, their hands clasped in their laps. This was the quietest they had been all day. I could understand though. Harry had taken the reins around the campfire telling ghost stories for three nights in a row, and the guy was a damn good storyteller.
With every eye on him, Harry lowered his voice into a whisper. “Do you guys want to know what they do?”
The kids nodded with wide eyes.
“They sneak into unsuspecting cabin’s…”
“Harry.”
Rowan’s voice came from outside in a warning. The window was open, and the guy was standing watch to see if any counsellors came back. Since the only adult had disappeared, he had been appointed leader—and the guy was taking himself a little too seriously.
His warning was valid though. Sometimes Harry’s ghost stories were a little too scary for little kids, who’s Imaginations tended to run wild—especially at night. Olive, my cabin-mate, had to give up her bed for a little girl who was convinced Harry’s depiction of Slenderman, “The tree boy” was going to sneak into her bed and turn her into an apple seed.
“Did I say sneak into cabin’s? I meant dance around the woods…” Harry corrected himself. “And they look for their next unsuspecting victim…”
“Harry!”
“Friend.” Harry swallowed his words when a little boy’s eyes went wide. “I mean they are looking for a friend! So, the point of my story is…”
“Horsey rides get us new friends?” Phoebe wasn’t buying it. I could tell from the slight arch of her brow and her widening smile.
The girl shook dark curls out of her face, smirking. I think it was her pleading eyes which won him over. Because, with a sigh which definitely wasn’t joking around, the guy dropped onto his knees and practically spat at her to climb on his back—and she did, plonking one sparkling shoe on top of the boy’s spine with enough force to send him onto his stomach. I might have been imagining it, but since when were these littles so outlandishly spiteful?
The little girl was grinning. Not because she could ride her “horsey” but because Harry looked like he was going to either wring her neck, or wring his own. Mom had a “talk” before I started here, and she made sure to tell me that if adult authority is nowhere to be seen, little kids will start to act out.
I could definitely call it acting out, but I had spent all day with her several days earlier playing with dolls and having a teddy bear picnic when she admitted she didn’t want to swim in the lake with the other kids. Phoebe had been shy and only spoke to me through her teddy bear, so what had changed?
Could the lack of adults really be scaring the kids that much?
“Miss Josie?”
I wasn’t paying attention, half noticing some kids had just helped themselves, piling chicken nuggets and cookies on plastic plates and hurrying to their seats like I couldn’t see them.
Blinking away brain fog, I found myself face to face with Eli, who was probably my favorite camper.
You’re not supposed to have personal preferences when working with little kids, because your opinions could upset them.
However, it was incredibly hard not to like Eli.
Hiding behind a mop of brown curls, the boy was one of the more vocal kids in the group. Eli said he wanted to be an inventor when he was older, and he wanted to make robots. The kid had asked me if I wanted to see his robot collection, but I was too busy with setting up camp activities. Standing in front of me and clutching his tray, the boy was frowning.
“Josie, I just saw some kids steal chicken nuggets.”
I shrugged, shovelling a large portion on his tray. “Well, you can have some extra too.”
Eli’s smile wasn’t as big as usual. “Where’s Teddy?”
I pretended to be oblivious, hastily adding more nuggets to his tray as if I could keep his mouth shut with extra food. “He’ll be back soon! Teddy is just playing in the woods.”
“No, he’s not.”
At first, I thought I’d heard the boy wrong. The kid wasn’t looking at me, counting his nuggets as usual with the prongs of his plastic fork.
I leaned forward with my best smile. “I’m sorry, what was that, Eli?”
The kid lifted his head with a wide grin. “Can I borrow a knife, Josie?”
“Why do you need a knife?”
Leaning forward, the boy shrugged. “There’s a squirrel caught in a trap,” he said. “I want to put it out of its misery, Miss Josie. It’s in a lot of pain.”
That was… dark.
“Well, I can’t give you a knife…” I trailed off, my gaze finding Harry and the growing line of kids awaiting a horse-ride. “But! How about you go and ask Harry for a piggy-back ride?” I pointed to myself with a forced grin. “I’ll save the squirrel!” And when the boy’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, I reached out, grasped his hand, and squeezed it as tight as I could. “Eli, we don’t need to do that, okay? I’m sure the squirrel can be saved and I’ll make sure to take it to the vet, okay?”
“But what if it doesn’t need saving?”
I squeezed tighter. “I’ll save it, Eli. I promise.”
Eli didn’t look convinced, but he nodded with a grumble. “Okay.” He said, before twisting around and joining the other kids torturing Harry. Immediately, I left my station—whether Rowan liked it or not—and headed outside to look for this supposedly dying squirrel. That was something we didn’t need. The sky was darkening when I made it into the woods, cotton candy clouds blurring through the thick canopy of trees. Eli said it was near the sign pointing towards the lake. Though I couldn’t see anything. Odd. That thought retracted in my head, however, when I stepped forward, and a squelching sound cut through the silence of my own heavy breaths mixing with insect chitters and nightlife buzzing above me and beneath me. The wet sounding squelch twisted my gut, and when I stared down at the ground, I didn't know what I was expecting.
A squashed squirrel, perhaps? In Eli’s words, the poor thing had been on the edge of death. Though, when I was thinking about it, there were no animal traps around camp. That was basic health and safety. So, what the fuck was I looking at? The bottom of my shoe was caked in dried blood, but it was the thing which was stamped into the dirt which sent my heart into my throat. It looked like an eye.
But looking closer as I lowered myself to the ground, I glimpsed something metallic, something glistening around the pupil. I picked up a stick and prodded it, though the thing didn’t move. It was definitely an eye—the eye of some kind of animal, judging from the pigmentation and the color of the iris.
But it was the metallic pieces around the eye which was throwing me off. Part of a trap, maybe? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that a poor critter had been ripped apart, and a wild bear had dropped its dinner near the camp—and the metal encasing its eye was most likely pieces of trap.
Peering closer, though, I glimpsed silver slithers in what appeared to be the destroyed nerve caked to my shoe. After scraping most of it off, I caught glistening pieces of blood stained metal catching the late-setting sun. This time, I pinched a piece between my forefinger and thumb. It didn’t look like a bear-trap. The metal itself wasn’t serrated or old. In fact, it was new.
Which begged the question: What was this thing?
Whatever it was, it had started converting what looked like a critter’s eye, before stopping. Was it a virus? When that thought slammed into me, I fell back with a hiss, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I almost jumped out of my skin, diving to my feet.
Carmel was standing behind me, grasping what looked like her sixth or seventh coffee. The girl had been running to and from the coffee machine all day, and I had been silently counting how much caffeine she was consuming. Carmel had been a well put together and fairly popular girl when camp started. She immediately had everyone following her beck and call, all of the boy’s (and girl’s) following her around.
Carmel wasn't straight. She made that clear on the bus to camp, announcing she wasn’t interested in guy’s, and that she had a girlfriend back home. Still though, the guy’s still followed her because... well, she was pretty.
Carmel was my bunk-mate and had woken me up on three separate occasions at 6am to go through the exact same hair and makeup routine. Now though, there was no sign of makeup or even that she had brushed her hair.
Instead of its usual tidy blonde ponytail, Carmel’s curls were tied into raggedy pigtails with ribbons I was sure she had stolen from a camper’s doll. I think what was keeping her going was coffee.
Carmel regarded me with too-wide eyes and a Camp Redwood smile we all knew was fake. She was grasping onto her coffee cup for dear life. “Josie!” she jumped when I jumped, which almost made me laugh. “Rowan’s having an emergency meeting in his cabin,” she said.
“So, whatever you’re doing can wait.”
Her gaze flicked to the ground. “What… are you doing?”
For a brief moment, I considered telling Carmel I may have found what looked like a virus which turned flesh and blood to metal—before I remembered her reaction when a spider had crept into our cabin.
Whatever this thing was, keeping it a secret for now was probably what was best. Making sure I was standing on the thing, I shrugged. “I was looking for the others.”
Carmel cocked her head, before resting her coffee on the ground. “In the dirt?”
“Footprints, Carmel.”
The girl looked confused before shaking her head. “Okay, whatever. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec, I just need to make sure the kids are okay. We’re putting a movie on for them in the lunch hall, so that will hopefully distract them for maybe two hours.”
I nodded. “Did anyone find a phone?”
“Not with signal.”
“Carmel.” I had to fight back the urge to yell at her to keep her voice down. Kids were curious, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we had some littles peeking into our conversation. “You’re okay.” I said softly.
“I mean, we’re not okay, because yes, things are very.. screwed up right now, but we need to be… optimistic.” I exhaled out a breath, searching for eyes in the dark. I tried to smile, tried to keep up that Camp Redwood façade we were all held hostage by until the last day of camp (According to rule 5 in the Camp Redwood counsellor handbook, all counsellors must retain a smile and a positive attitude. If any counselor is caught making a frowny face, or spreading what we call “unhappiness” we will be forced to send the counselor home).
At this point, I didn’t give a fuck—but part of me didn’t want to scare the little kids.
“No, Josie.” The girl grasped hold of my shoulders with a grin rivalling the joker. “I am so sick of being told to keep smiling, because what is that doing? Three of my cabin-mates are missing! I’m the one left, and Rowan and co expect me to keep up this act? We are fucked!"
She cupped her mouth. “F. U. C. K. E. D. We have zero adults, an unexplainable loss of power every few hours which makes no sense in the middle of nowhere—I mean what the fuck is out there which is sucking that much power, huh? There is no explanation! There should be an explanation. I should be able to think, “oh, yeah! That’s why! But no. Things are happening, and I don’t know why they’re happening. Rowan is trying to force us to act like things are okay —but in reality? He is shitting himself, Josie! We are ALL shitting ourselves!”
I took a step back, keeping hold of her hand. Carmel was trembling, her hands clammy and slimy entangled in mine. “He's just trying to keep the kids from freaking out."
She groaned, tears glistening in her eyes. “Okay, yeah! I’m blaming them because they keep acting like everything is okay—”
“Everything IS okay.” I turned to her with what I hoped was a reassuring smile—knowing damn well about the thing I’d found in the dirt. If that thing could spread, it would have a field day in an enclosed space like a summer camp.
I noticed my own hands which had been touching the thing making contact with Carmel, and dropped my hands, inwardly squirming.
If that thing was a virus, I was already fucked.
Maybe Carmel too.
If it was fast acting, it could explain the counsellor disappearances. I was already putting together a plan in my head as we headed back to the main cabin. We had to put together a search party. Some of us would stay with the kids, while a small group would venture into the woods to try and look for traces of the missing. If I was right, we would find a horror scene in the woods, and yes, that would be the time to panic.
If I was wrong, however, there was still hope.
“Are we going to be okay?”
Carmel’s voice sliced into my thoughts, and I took a moment to drink in the camp around us.
Usually, when the sky was turning twilight, it would be bustling with campers and counselors toasting marshmallows on the fire and gathering around to fall asleep to Harry’s ghost stories. Carmel would be knelt with a bunch of kids, watching a YouTube video they had all insisted on her watching, while Rowan would be hiding behind his book with his knees to his chest, his gaze glued to every page he flicked through, ignoring everyone.
Teddy, making funny faces for kids who were scared, and Connor, handing out plates of burgers and hot dogs. I remembered feeling safe and at home, cosy around the flickering orange of the fire as chatter turned to laughter and white-noise in my head. After the kids went back to their cabins, the group of us would resume positions around the fire, but this time it was more… intimate. With Allison in her cabin, we kind of ignored her rules all together.
Making out happened, because of course it did. Beers stolen from Allison’s mini fridge and raging hormones, as well as late-night skinny dipping in the lake did that. Couples went off into the woods, and we all felt completely comfortable and at home with each other.
Looking around at that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. That feeling was gone.
The feeling of family and familiarity and friendship. What I was looking at now was that same log we had all sat on, now turned on its side—hot dog buns and candy wrappers littering the ground. It was a ghost camp.
I could still see Connor’s jacket slung on the ground, and Lili’s bright pink ray bans sitting on a beer can. Because there were no adults to yell at us to clean up after ourselves. I was frowning at the skeleton of the fire when Carmel nudged me. “Hey.” Her voice was shaking slightly. “Josie? You didn’t answer my question.” Carmel wanted me to be the voice of reason, and I wasn’t that. I was just as scared as her.
There was only so much I could sugar-coat, and I gave up doing that after the third counsellor disappeared. All I could offer her was forced optimism.
“Yes.” I said. “Just keep the kids busy, alright?”
“Right.”
When I was twisting around and power-walking to Rowan’s cabin, I shouted over my shoulder, “Give them some of those animal crackers!”
“What animal crackers?”
I turned to elaborate, but Carmel was gone.
When I finally got to Rowan’s cabin, I was sweating through my shirt, and had an idea of what I was going to tell the others. It was… a thing. Which could be considered a disease or a virus—so it was vital that we split into two groups; half of us would search for the others, while the others would look for anything to get in contact with the outside world. An emergency landline, laptop, or cell phone.
I did have one problem, which was lack of evidence. All which was left from the thing I’d found was stuck to my foot. The rest of it was buried in the dirt. It was too dark to search for it, and we would be wasting time doing so.
All of that was in my mind and tangled on my tongue, one single string of incomprehensible gibberish I wasn’t even sure was English, when I stepped into Rowan’s cabin, where four sets of eyes met mine. Olive, cross legged on the floor with her arms folded, Harry, pacing up and down with a brand new bruise blooming under his eye, courtesy of Eleanor almost poking his eyes out—and Rowan himself sitting on top bunk, his legs swinging off of the side.
The guy wasn’t built to be our leader, originally being the laziest of our group, opting for sitting in a tree with a book, rather than helping set up camp activities. Yet he had become our default guy in charge because he so happened to be wearing the head counsellor hat when Allison disappeared. Admittedly, it suited him, the bright red of the cap contrasted his dark curls under a late setting sun through the back window, setting strands of straying hair on fire.
The hat was a little too big for his head, though, slipping over his eyes.
Rowan looked like a divorced father of two, dark circles bruising his eyes, and a very “dad-like” scowl curling on his lips.
With a clipboard pressed to his chest, and a pen he was chewing on, the boy resembled a grown man who had just caught his daughter coming in after curfew. “Josie.” Spitting the pen’s lid out of his mouth, he scribbled something down. I had no doubt he was tracking my attendance for these stupid crisis meetings. His eyes were wild, scanning me for answers. “Where the fuck is Carmel?”
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it with my arms folded. “So, we can swear now?”
“Yes.” Rowan rolled his eyes. “There are no kids here, so go crazy,” he pointed at me with the pen. “Carmel. Where is she?”
“Keeping the kids busy,” Callan’s muffled voice came from the bottom bunk. I could barely see the guy lying on his stomach, his face stuffed into a pillow. “It was my idea to play Shrek for them, but the little shits said they haven’t seen it,” the boy lifted his head, his lips carved into a scowl. “I’m sorry, am I tripping? Everyone’s seen Shrek! Do these kids expect the Minecraft movie?”
“They don’t like that, either,” Harry stopped pacing the cabin. “Eleanor looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if she liked it."
“Fortnite, too.” Olive said, a cushion pressed to her chest. “I suggested playing it a few days ago, and like, zero kids knew what it was.”
“Six counsellors are missing,” Rowan raised his voice over the other’s chatter. “And you’re questioning what games they like?” His eyes found mine once more. “So, Carmel is with the kids? You’re absolutely sure of it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just saw her five minutes ago.”
“Great.” Rowan said, sarcastically. “I’m sure she won’t go missing under mysterious circumstances.”
“Stop.” Olive shot him a glare, throwing a cushion in his face. “I told you. They’re probably lost—- or maybe they went to get help?”
“We’ve all been trained to know every inch of these woods,” Rowan catapulted the cushion right back at her. “They’re not lost.”
“Well, where are they?!” Callan sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. I had never seen the guy looked this vulnerable. “Allison made sense. She probably had other duties, and left us to look after the kids. But six counselors? All of them disappearing—- our phone signal completely cutting out, electricity cutting off, not once, but twice? What is even sucking all of our power?”
“I got the emergency generator working,” Olive raised her arm. “Connor and I managed it before…” she trailed off.
“Before Connor disappeared.” Callan finished for her. “And before him, it was Joey, Lily, Mira, Yuri, Noah, and Teddy. Which isn’t a fucking coincidence,” he shot Rowan a look, who glared down at his lap. I could tell the boy didn’t want to lead all of us, come up with plans and answer questions we desperately needed answering. His job was to look after us, as well as the littles, and so far, he was doing a pretty good job. I could tell by his expression that he thought the opposite, but he had managed to keep the kids from finding out about something as sinister as someone actively kidnapping counsellors.
He made sure they were fed, entertained, and safe watching a movie—while we were scared for our lives. Rowan was keeping up the façade no matter how scared he was. The boy dropped his head into his lap with a sigh. It looked like he might fall asleep before he slammed the clipboard into his face to wake himself up.
Nobody wanted to admit what Callan was saying, but we were all definitely thinking it. “This was planned.” Callan continued.
“Someone out here is fucking with us, very clearly trying to freak us out. Now they've got six of us. ” He spread out his arms. “How long until one of the littles gets taken, huh? A bunch of 18 year olds aren’t going to satisfy them, so what about when they start taking campers? We are in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere with a serial kidnapper on the loose, and did we really just leave fifteen kids in the care of a girl who thought Australia was in England?”
“In Carmel’s defence, she was black-out drunk when she said that,” Olive murmured.
“Voice down!” Rowan hissed. “Do you want to scare them?!” His gaze flicked to me. “Did you do a headcount during dinner?”
I nodded. “Fifteen kids all accounted for. Ten are in the lunch hall, and five girls are in Cassie’s cabin playing Operation.”
“All day?” Olive spoke up. “Weren’t they playing that this morning? I tried to get into their cabin to give them breakfast, but they just shooed me away and locked the door.”
“Fuck.” Rowan ran his fingers down his face. “Alright, I’ll go and see what’s going on with them. Knowing Cassie and her friends, they’re probably zonked out on stolen candy. When all of the kids are accounted for in the lunch cabin, we gather outside.”
I swallowed, speaking up. “I actually wanted to talk to you guys about something.”
Rowan lifted his head, jutting the edge of the clipboard into his chin. “Go on…”
“I found something?” I pulled a face. “I mean, think I’ve found something?”
I wasn't sure how to explain to a dwindling group of exhausted teenagers that there may be something even more terrifying than potential kidnappers out there. Four blank faces started back at me, and Rowan leaned forward with a frown. “Like, in general? Josie, we don’t have time to go foraging.”
“You could call it a lead,” I said. “But I need your eyes to find it.”
“Uh-huh. But what is it?”
Thinking back to what exactly I had seen, I had no idea how to describe it. “It’s better if I just… showed you.”
Rowan looked sceptical, but nodded. “Alright. Josie comes with me. We’ll check out Allison’s cabin again to look for an emergency line, and you can show me whatever this ‘thing’ is you’ve found. Then we’ll escort Cassie and the other girl’s to the lunch cabin. Every camper needs an escort from now on. The rest of you? Act normal. If the kids see you freaking out, they will also freak out—and we need to keep up morale.” The boy pointed to Olive. “Olive, you sit in with the kids and look after them. Callan, check out the emergency generator. Harry, the kids see you as a playground ride, so use that to your advantage. Offer them horse rides if they’re scared. And with the ghost stories, it’s making it worse. Give them piggybacks.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Rowan cleared his throat. “We all keep up appearances. If the others turn up, after getting high or… I don’t know, having an orgy in the woods—- I will fucking kill them.” The way he smiled through his teeth, jumping off the bunk, his toes primed like a wild animal, I knew he wasn’t joking. If this was a well-constructed prank the other counselors were playing, I had no doubt Rowan would rip them apart for leaving him as a reluctant leader. To my surprise, the others wandered off with their tasks.
I watched Rowan lift up his pillow and pull out a pack of animal crackers, ripping open the bag and pouring the contents into his mouth. He caught my eye, crunching through mini animal crackers. “I didn’t have lunch,” he said through a mouthful.
I couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief as we headed across camp, Rowan in front of me, while I lagged behind.
“So, what’s the plan?” I caught up to him, almost tripping over a log.
The guy didn’t turn around. “I am completely winging it,” he said through a choked laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and if I’m honest? I just want to go home, dude. I haven’t looked after this many kids in my life, and if I have to smile one more time as a little brat, I am going to fucking lose my mind.” He heaved out a breath. “I am making this up as I go along.”
I laughed that time. “That’s… comforting.”
“Yeah?” He turned to shoot me a grin. “Well, rest assured I am just about as scared—if not more scared than you,” as we stopped in front of Cassie’s cabin, his gaze found mine. “Is it me…” he said softly, “Or does the lunch cabin seem quiet.”
He was right. The windows were dark when they should have been illuminated by the TV screen. Instead of answering, I stepped in front of him, grasping hold of the cabin door. “Cassie?” I knocked three times. “Girl’s, are you okay in there? It’s Josie and Rowan.” I tried the door, and it slid open. Shooting a look at the boy behind me, I turned back to the door. “We’re coming in, okay?”
“Wait!”
Cassie squeaked from inside. “But he’s not finished!”
Ignoring the coil of dread unravelling in my gut, I forced the door open and stepped into unusually milky white light which flooded the cabin. The first thing I saw was eight-year-old Cassie, sitting cross legged with her back to me. She was sitting in a circle with the other girls, no doubt playing their game.
When I stepped closer, however, I noticed something pooling across the wooden floor. It must have been juice or water that they had spilled. I took another step, but this time, clammy fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. Rowan didn't speak, but his eyes were elsewhere. Initially, they had been drinking in the cabin before they found oblivion entirely. I heard his breath start to accelerate, his grip tightening on my wrist.
I had half a mind to pull away, before I saw the body shaped carcass the girls were sitting around. In the dim light of the cabin, it used to be a person. Teddy. I could still see parts of an identity, freckled cheeks and eyes which were still open, still staring at the sky.
But that was where the similarities to the missing counsellor ended. The thing which used to be Teddy was more of a shell, a scooped out thing resembling a human body. What sent me stumbling backwards, my mouth open in a silent scream, was the almost surgical efficiency of each organ's removal, like it really was a game of operation. His heart, lungs, and intestines were in one pile-- while his brain was cupped between little Cassie's bloody hands— and when my gaze found the little girl, Nina, hiding behind dark curly hair, I was seeing what looked like a toy robot’s head in her hands. In my head, I was thinking about the eye with the metallic pieces glittering around its pupil, and something turned in my gut.
Did I find a human eye?
I was staring at the crevice inside the boy's skull, and the boxes of surgical equipment piled on the girl's bunks, when Rowan finally pulled me back, and I was stumbling straight onto my ass. "We need to go." Rowan spoke through a croak. Cassie’s words rattled in my head. Teddy, I thought.
Teddy wasn’t finished.
"Josie. Get up. Now!" My head was spinning, and I was sure I'd thrown up. I didn’t even realize we had managed to stumble from the girl’s cabin before cool air grazed my face, tickling my cheeks. Something wet and warm, and lumpy was spattering the front of my shirt.
Before I could coerce words, the boy was pulling me to my feet, and I was seeing stars in my eyes, blinking brightly. When the two of us started forwards in a run, Rowan stopped abruptly. I followed his gaze to find several kids surrounding his cabin, where Harry, Olive and Callan were. Maybe I was hallucinating, but Eleanor and Phoebe, both of whom wielding weapons where I had no idea where they had gotten them—looked… taller? Rowan didn’t waste time, dragging me back. “Allison’s cabin.” He spoke in cry which became a sob, pulling me across camp, stumbling over rocky ground.
“We need a phone. Fuck, we need a phone. We need a phone.” Rowan was struggling to stand, occasionally bending over and choking up dust.
“They were playing Operation."
Literal operation.
“But they’re just kids!” I choked out.
Little kids, who had surgically removed every organ inside Teddy’s body.
Little kids, who were hunting the other counsellors down, and would surely be coming for us.
Allison’s cabin was thankfully further into the woods. When we were safe inside and Rowan was locking the door, I dry heaved several times, unable to get the sight of glistening gore splattering the cabin floor from my mind. “Josie.” Rowan was already tearing apart the cabin. “Work with me here, okay? We don’t… we don’t have fucking time to freak out, or to barf—we need to help. Now.” Rowan was almost in tears, and when he hit the ground on his knees, I took over. I searched Allison’s desk first. Nothing of importance, just documents and invoices. Digging through her draw, there was still nothing. We were running out of time.
Abandoning the desk, I went through her suitcase and bags. When I was crawling under her bed to try and find a weapon, Rowan hissed out. “Wait.” When I turned to him, he was still kneeling, but his foot was clamping down on a loose plank. The guy didn’t hesitate, pulling at the loose plank, which, to my confusion, revealed what looked to me like a trap door.
Rowan turned to me. “You’re kidding.”
I could only stare at the trap door revealing stone steps. He peered down, his voice echoing. “Allison has a fucking secret bunker?”
His lips curved into a surprisingly childish grin which took me off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s so cooooool!”
Lifting my head at the sound of loud squealing, I glimpsed a group of littles led by Eleanor stalking towards us. Eleanor had a hostage. Harry. And with the way she was sticking the blade of a scary looking knife to his throat, I figured she meant business.
Their height difference was almost comical. The eighteen year old guy had to hunch over so the little girl could successfully keep him prisoner. Behind them in the trees, I could see something illuminating the dark, an electric blue light bathing their faces.
So, that was there the power was going.
But what the fuck were these eight-year-old’s doing?
“Josie!” Rowan hissed from down below. He had already climbed down.
I joined him, struggling down the stone steps, before replacing the loose plank. If these kids were as smart as I thought, it wouldn’t take them long to realize the loose plank—also a trap door. Allison’s bunker was more of a control room. There were multiple screens lit up, a chair in front of a working MacBook. The phone-line was cut. But that didn’t make sense.
The kids were unaware of the bunker, so who cut the phone lines? Rowan was on the laptop, struggling to get through the password protection, so I turned my attention to piles of cardboard boxes.
When I opened them, I found myself staring at animal crackers.
There were hundreds of them, packed on top of each other. Looking further, digging through the boxes, I found a piece of old crumpled paper which looked ancient.
REGARDING PROJECT SPEARHEAD SUBJECTS:
PLEASE DO NOT INGEST UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. IF MULTIPLE SUBJECTS INGEST, PLEASE USE SELF DESTRUCT.
ONLY USE IN CASES SUCH AS IMMINENT DESTRUCTION TO THE PLANET/THREAT OF NUCLEAR WAR.
(PLEASE CONTACT FAMILIES IN ADVANCE. MAKE SURE TO INGEST WITH WATER TO AVOID NEUROLOGICAL SYMPTOMS SUCH AS PSYCHOSIS, EXTREME VIOLENCE. PLEASE APPROACH SUBJECTS WITH CAUTION.
Something ice cold slithered down my spine.
Abandoning the boxes, I searched through a cabinet filled with files which were crumbling apart from age. I picked one at random and flicked through it.
Eleanor Summer’s.
Sex: Female.
DOB: 08/05/1977.
Initially, I thought I was reading the dates wrong. But then, with my heart in my throat, I was grasping for other files.
Eli Evermore.
Sex: Male.
'DOB: 08/03/1979.
“Rowan.” I managed to get out through a breath.
“Mm?”
“They’re not children.”
The boy rubbed his eyes, frowning. His eyes were half lidded, almost confused. “Huh?”
“Eleanor.” I whispered. “Is forty five years old.”
He nodded slowly, turning back to the laptop. “How do you spell… documents? I’m looking for digital versions but I can’t find any.”
“You don’t know how to spell documents?”
“It’s been a hard day.” The boy whined, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry.
Whatever I was going to say was choked in the back of my throat, when a loud bang sounded from above, the sounds of childish giggling coming through the floorboards. But the laughter didn’t sound like little kids. No, it sounded like teenager’s who were acting like little kids. I stared at the boxes of animal crackers, and then at the file confirming Eleanor’s real age.
My own words shuddered through me, and I remembered finding Teddy’s dismembered carcass in Cassie’s cabin. When I had caught her gaze, the little girl didn’t look scared, and somehow, her fingers wrapped around the scalpel looked just right.
Like the little bitch knew exactly what she was doing.
“Helloooo?” Harry’s voice was a hysterical giggle. “Olly, Olly, Oxen freeee!”
“Are you in heeeeeeere?” Carmel joined in. I could hear their footsteps above, dancing across the room.
Clamping my hand over my mouth, I dragged my knees to my chest and prayed they weren’t smart enough to figure out we were right underneath them.
Knowing the truth about them, though? I wasn’t counting on it.
….
That was an hour ago.
We’re still stuck down here, and I can get a connection here—thank god. For some reason, Alison has blocked all social media. We need help. We’re at Camp Redwood, and these kids ARE NOT KIDS.
Whatever Project Spearhead is was designed to keep them here.
The phone-line is cut so we can’t get help from whoever was helping Allison. I am counting on you guys.
Get us out of here!
2023.05.28 18:16 SirJevs Who pairs with Cracker the best ? Want to go Hakuba but any suggestions greatly appreciated ;)
 | submitted by SirJevs to OPBR [link] [comments] |
2023.05.27 21:06 Trash_Tia Camp Redwood are running out of counsellors! These children ARE NOT CHILDREN.
In hindsight, I should have listened to the kill-bill alarm bells in my head when eight-year-old Cassie announced she and her cabin mates were going to skip out on camp activities and play Operation instead.
Though it’s not like I didn’t have things on my mind. Seven counsellors had gone missing—along with our head counsellor who was supposed to be taking care of us.
It started out fairly normal. I mean, one or two counselors wasn’t bad, right?
Lily and Joey had been drowning in sexual tension for a while, so nobody was surprised when they sneaked into the woods for what I could only guess was the most uncomfortable sex ever. But then they didn’t come back.
Teddy and Yuri went to look for them, and then they too also disappeared. It was almost like a wild animal was lying in wait for another unsuspecting teenager to cross its path.
With six of us left, I was definitely freaking out.
I wasn’t expecting summer camp to be like this. I did consider working in my local Sephora, but mom had a preference—and whether I was eighteen years old or not, she was getting her way. So, it was goodbye civilization, and hello Canadian wilderness.
There were fifteen kids queued up in front of me for lunch, and I was having a hard time keeping that optimistic Camp Redwood smile.
I couldn’t help constantly counting how many hours it had been since the latest disappearance, Connor.
He was supposed to be helping with getting the emergency generator going, after the electricity sizzled out.
The boy was gone an hour later. This was happening fast. Whatever was going on with the counsellors was burning through all of us. Would it happen to me?
I had seen so many TV shows and movies set in a summer camp where every camper and counsellor was doomed to die in the grossest way possible. Was that going to happen to us?
I tightened my grip around the stupid ladle I had found myself stirring, a giant pot of chocolate syrup. Watching watery chocolate drip from the edge, I felt nauseous. Of all the summer camp’s mom had to send me to, it had to be the one with vanishing counsellors and zero adult authority. Which meant we were the authority. Twelve teenagers who came to relax and babysit a bunch of little kids before college.
We had to put on brave faces and pretend everything was absolutely fine—and we weren’t all terrified out of our fucking minds.
At the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Harry offering piggybacks to a bunch of little kids, with one of the littles, Eleanor, wrapping her arms around his neck and squealing.
From the look on the boy’s face, he wanted to stop. It was hard to keep a façade when reality was becoming harder and harder to bear. Abandoning his hat completely, Harry was dripping with sweat, trying to twist his lips into the Camp Redwood grin. But looking closer, as he galloped across the cabin with Eleanor holding on for dear life, the guy was ready to collapse. I didn’t blame him.
Entertaining the kids was supposed to be Teddy’s assignment—and he was who knows where. I had taken over lunch duties for Lily, who had joined the long list of the missing.
Harry was supposed to be joining the search party for the missing councellors, but had ended up becoming the little’s personal punching bag.
When I first met him, Harry Carlisle had been the kid who sat on the side-lines and offered sarcastic remarks and crude jokes. Now, he had been reduced to a playground ride the kids pretended didn’t have an off switch.
He had enjoyed maybe the first two rides to raise morale, but now I could see the strain in his eyes. “Ow!” Harry winced when the little girl’s fingers prodded at his eyes. “Hey! Eleanor, not my eyes!” He was dangerously close to toppling over, though managed to catch his footing, ordering all of them off of his back. “Horse Rides are over!” He cupped his mouth, shouting across the cabin when a group of kids surrounded him with equally terrifying faces. Harry backed away and threw his hands up. “Come on, guys, my back isn’t built for all of you!”
“Horsey!” The kids shouted back in a cacophony of giggles.
It was 10 against one.
Against two, if I got involved. Which wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I was putting effort into play-fighting a bunch of eight-year-olds. Harry shot me a hopeful look, though I pretended not to see, busying myself with slightly burned nuggets.
Running his fingers through thick strands of sandy colored hair, Harry pulled a face when a little girl, Phoebe, was brave enough to step forward.
“No.” Harry shook his head, squeezing the front of his counsellor shirt practically glued to him. The temperature still hadn’t let up, and it was heading towards 8PM. Night-time, I thought dizzily. It was almost bedtime, and still no adults. “I refuse to surrender,” He told her. “Phoebe, I am not joking around when I’m saying my back is hurting. We’ve been playing horsey’s for two hours.”
“So?”
“So!” Harry couldn’t yell or hiss, or swear at them. That was a big no-no with kids.
However, I could see he was coming close to breaking that rule. “Because I’m tired,” he said through a Camp Redwood grin, which was quickly twitching into a grimace.
I think all of us had given up with the fake enthusiasm when our colleagues started to vanish. Now, we were just shells of our former happy selves. “And… uh… did you know that if you ride a horsey at this time, the ghosts will come and get you?”
When a boy opened his mouth, his eyes widening with fright, Harry realized his mistake.
“I mean the nice ghosts! Yeah! The uh, the nice ghosts who haunt..I mean play in these woods? It’s a well-known Camp Redwood legend that ghosts don’t like horse rides. In fact,” his lips curved into a devilish smile now he had several faces staring at him. The kids dropped onto the ground to listen, their hands clasped in their laps. This was the quietest they had been all day. I could understand though. Harry had taken the reins around the campfire telling ghost stories for three nights in a row, and the guy was a damn good storyteller.
With every eye on him, Harry lowered his voice into a whisper. “Do you guys want to know what they do?”
The kids nodded with wide eyes.
“They sneak into unsuspecting cabin’s…”
“Harry.”
Rowan’s voice came from outside in a warning. The window was open, and the guy was standing watch to see if any counsellors came back. Since the only adult had disappeared, he had been appointed leader—and the guy was taking himself a little too seriously.
His warning was valid though. Sometimes Harry’s ghost stories were a little too scary for little kids, who’s Imaginations tended to run wild—especially at night. Olive, my cabin-mate, had to give up her bed for a little girl who was convinced Harry’s depiction of Slenderman, “The tree boy” was going to sneak into her bed and turn her into an apple seed.
“Did I say sneak into cabin’s? I meant dance around the woods…” Harry corrected himself. “And they look for their next unsuspecting victim…”
“Harry!”
“Friend.” Harry swallowed his words when a little boy’s eyes went wide. “I mean they are looking for a friend! So, the point of my story is…”
“Horsey rides get us new friends?” Phoebe wasn’t buying it. I could tell from the slight arch of her brow and her widening smile.
The girl shook dark curls out of her face, smirking. I think it was her pleading eyes which won him over. Because, with a sigh which definitely wasn’t joking around, the guy dropped onto his knees and practically spat at her to climb on his back—and she did, plonking one sparkling shoe on top of the boy’s spine with enough force to send him onto his stomach. I might have been imagining it, but since when were these littles so outlandishly spiteful?
The little girl was grinning. Not because she could ride her “horsey” but because Harry looked like he was going to either wring her neck, or wring his own. Mom had a “talk” before I started here, and she made sure to tell me that if adult authority is nowhere to be seen, little kids will start to act out.
I could definitely call it acting out, but I had spent all day with her several days earlier playing with dolls and having a teddy bear picnic when she admitted she didn’t want to swim in the lake with the other kids. Phoebe had been shy and only spoke to me through her teddy bear, so what had changed?
Could the lack of adults really be scaring the kids that much?
“Miss Josie?”
I wasn’t paying attention, half noticing some kids had just helped themselves, piling chicken nuggets and cookies on plastic plates and hurrying to their seats like I couldn’t see them.
Blinking away brain fog, I found myself face to face with Eli, who was probably my favorite camper.
You’re not supposed to have personal preferences when working with little kids, because your opinions could upset them.
However, it was incredibly hard not to like Eli.
Hiding behind a mop of brown curls, the boy was one of the more vocal kids in the group. Eli said he wanted to be an inventor when he was older, and he wanted to make robots. The kid had asked me if I wanted to see his robot collection, but I was too busy with setting up camp activities. Standing in front of me and clutching his tray, the boy was frowning.
“Josie, I just saw some kids steal chicken nuggets.”
I shrugged, shovelling a large portion on his tray. “Well, you can have some extra too.”
Eli’s smile wasn’t as big as usual. “Where’s Teddy?”
I pretended to be oblivious, hastily adding more nuggets to his tray as if I could keep his mouth shut with extra food. “He’ll be back soon! Teddy is just playing in the woods.”
“No, he’s not.”
At first, I thought I’d heard the boy wrong. The kid wasn’t looking at me, counting his nuggets as usual with the prongs of his plastic fork.
I leaned forward with my best smile. “I’m sorry, what was that, Eli?”
The kid lifted his head with a wide grin. “Can I borrow a knife, Josie?”
“Why do you need a knife?”
Leaning forward, the boy shrugged. “There’s a squirrel caught in a trap,” he said. “I want to put it out of its misery, Miss Josie. It’s in a lot of pain.”
That was… dark.
“Well, I can’t give you a knife…” I trailed off, my gaze finding Harry and the growing line of kids awaiting a horse-ride. “But! How about you go and ask Harry for a piggy-back ride?” I pointed to myself with a forced grin. “I’ll save the squirrel!” And when the boy’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, I reached out, grasped his hand, and squeezed it as tight as I could. “Eli, we don’t need to do that, okay? I’m sure the squirrel can be saved and I’ll make sure to take it to the vet, okay?”
“But what if it doesn’t need saving?”
I squeezed tighter. “I’ll save it, Eli. I promise.”
Eli didn’t look convinced, but he nodded with a grumble. “Okay.” He said, before twisting around and joining the other kids torturing Harry. Immediately, I left my station—whether Rowan liked it or not—and headed outside to look for this supposedly dying squirrel. That was something we didn’t need. The sky was darkening when I made it into the woods, cotton candy clouds blurring through the thick canopy of trees. Eli said it was near the sign pointing towards the lake. Though I couldn’t see anything. Odd. That thought retracted in my head, however, when I stepped forward, and a squelching sound cut through the silence of my own heavy breaths mixing with insect chitters and nightlife buzzing above me and beneath me. The wet sounding squelch twisted my gut, and when I stared down at the ground, I didn't know what I was expecting.
A squashed squirrel, perhaps? In Eli’s words, the poor thing had been on the edge of death. Though, when I was thinking about it, there were no animal traps around camp. That was basic health and safety. So, what the fuck was I looking at? The bottom of my shoe was caked in dried blood, but it was the thing which was stamped into the dirt which sent my heart into my throat. It looked like an eye.
But looking closer as I lowered myself to the ground, I glimpsed something metallic, something glistening around the pupil. I picked up a stick and prodded it, though the thing didn’t move. It was definitely an eye—the eye of some kind of animal, judging from the pigmentation and the color of the iris.
But it was the metallic pieces around the eye which was throwing me off. Part of a trap, maybe? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that a poor critter had been ripped apart, and a wild bear had dropped its dinner near the camp—and the metal encasing its eye was most likely pieces of trap.
Peering closer, though, I glimpsed silver slithers in what appeared to be the destroyed nerve caked to my shoe. After scraping most of it off, I caught glistening pieces of blood stained metal catching the late-setting sun. This time, I pinched a piece between my forefinger and thumb. It didn’t look like a bear-trap. The metal itself wasn’t serrated or old. In fact, it was new.
Which begged the question: What was this thing?
Whatever it was, it had started converting what looked like a critter’s eye, before stopping. Was it a virus? When that thought slammed into me, I fell back with a hiss, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I almost jumped out of my skin, diving to my feet.
Carmel was standing behind me, grasping what looked like her sixth or seventh coffee. The girl had been running to and from the coffee machine all day, and I had been silently counting how much caffeine she was consuming. Carmel had been a well put together and fairly popular girl when camp started. She immediately had everyone following her beck and call, all of the boy’s (and girl’s) following her around.
Carmel wasn't straight. She made that clear on the bus to camp, announcing she wasn’t interested in guy’s, and that she had a girlfriend back home. Still though, the guy’s still followed her because... well, she was pretty.
Carmel was my bunk-mate and had woken me up on three separate occasions at 6am to go through the exact same hair and makeup routine. Now though, there was no sign of makeup or even that she had brushed her hair.
Instead of its usual tidy blonde ponytail, Carmel’s curls were tied into raggedy pigtails with ribbons I was sure she had stolen from a camper’s doll. I think what was keeping her going was coffee.
Carmel regarded me with too-wide eyes and a Camp Redwood smile we all knew was fake. She was grasping onto her coffee cup for dear life. “Josie!” she jumped when I jumped, which almost made me laugh. “Rowan’s having an emergency meeting in his cabin,” she said.
“So, whatever you’re doing can wait.”
Her gaze flicked to the ground. “What… are you doing?”
For a brief moment, I considered telling Carmel I may have found what looked like a virus which turned flesh and blood to metal—before I remembered her reaction when a spider had crept into our cabin.
Whatever this thing was, keeping it a secret for now was probably what was best. Making sure I was standing on the thing, I shrugged. “I was looking for the others.”
Carmel cocked her head, before resting her coffee on the ground. “In the dirt?”
“Footprints, Carmel.”
The girl looked confused before shaking her head. “Okay, whatever. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec, I just need to make sure the kids are okay. We’re putting a movie on for them in the lunch hall, so that will hopefully distract them for maybe two hours.”
I nodded. “Did anyone find a phone?”
“Not with signal!”
“Carmel.” I had to fight back the urge to yell at her to keep her voice down. Kids were curious, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we had some littles peeking into our conversation. “You’re okay.” I said softly.
“I mean, we’re not okay, because yes, things are very.. screwed up right now, but we need to be… optimistic.” I exhaled out a breath, searching for eyes in the dark. I tried to smile, tried to keep up that Camp Redwood façade we were all held hostage by until the last day of camp (According to rule 5 in the Camp Redwood counsellor handbook, all counsellors must retain a smile and a positive attitude. If any counselor is caught making a frowny face, or spreading what we call “unhappiness” we will be forced to send the counselor home).
At this point, I didn’t give a fuck—but part of me didn’t want to scare the little kids.
“No, Josie.” The girl grasped hold of my shoulders with a grin rivalling the joker. “I am so sick of being told to keep smiling, because what is that doing? Three of my cabin-mates are missing! I’m the only one left, and Rowan and co expect me to keep up this act? We are fucked!"
She cupped her mouth. “F. U. C. K. E. D. We have zero adults, an unexplainable loss of power every few hours which makes no sense in the middle of nowhere—I mean what the fuck is out there which is sucking that much power, huh? There is no explanation! There should be an explanation. I should be able to think, “oh, yeah! That’s why! But no. Things are happening, and I don’t know why they’re happening. Rowan is trying to force us to act like things are okay —but in reality? He is shitting himself, Josie! We are ALL shitting ourselves!”
I took a step back, keeping hold of her hand. Carmel was trembling, her hands clammy and slimy entangled in mine. “He's just trying to keep the kids from freaking out."
She groaned, tears glistening in her eyes. “Okay, yeah! I’m blaming them because they keep acting like everything is okay—”
“Everything IS okay.” I turned to her with what I hoped was a reassuring smile—knowing damn well about the thing I’d found in the dirt. If that thing could spread, it would have a field day in an enclosed space like a summer camp.
I noticed my own hands which had been touching the thing making contact with Carmel, and dropped my hands, inwardly squirming.
If that thing was a virus, I was already fucked.
Maybe Carmel too.
If it was fast acting, it could explain the counsellor disappearances. I was already putting together a plan in my head as we headed back to the main cabin. We had to put together a search party. Some of us would stay with the kids, while a small group would venture into the woods to try and look for traces of the missing. If I was right, we would find a horror scene in the woods, and yes, that would be the time to panic.
If I was wrong, however, there was still hope.
“Are we going to be okay?”
Carmel’s voice sliced into my thoughts, and I took a moment to drink in the camp around us.
Usually, when the sky was turning twilight, it would be bustling with campers and counselors toasting marshmallows on the fire and gathering around to fall asleep to Harry’s ghost stories. Carmel would be knelt with a bunch of kids, watching a YouTube video they had all insisted on her watching, while Rowan would be hiding behind his book with his knees to his chest, his gaze glued to every page he flicked through, ignoring everyone.
Teddy, making funny faces for kids who were scared, and Connor, handing out plates of burgers and hot dogs. I remembered feeling safe and at home, cosy around the flickering orange of the fire as chatter turned to laughter and white-noise in my head. After the kids went back to their cabins, the group of us would resume positions around the fire, but this time it was more… intimate. With Allison in her cabin, we kind of ignored her rules all together.
Making out happened, because of course it did. Beers stolen from Allison’s mini fridge and raging hormones, as well as late-night skinny dipping in the lake did that. Couples went off into the woods, and we all felt completely comfortable and at home with each other.
Looking around at that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. That feeling was gone.
The feeling of family and familiarity and friendship. What I was looking at now was that same log we had all sat on, now turned on its side—hot dog buns and candy wrappers littering the ground. It was a ghost camp.
I could still see Connor’s jacket slung on the ground, and Lili’s bright pink ray bans sitting on a beer can. Because there were no adults to yell at us to clean up after ourselves. I was frowning at the skeleton of the fire when Carmel nudged me. “Hey.” Her voice was shaking slightly. “Josie? You didn’t answer my question.” Carmel wanted me to be the voice of reason, and I wasn’t that. I was just as scared as her.
There was only so much I could sugar-coat, and I gave up doing that after the third counsellor disappeared. All I could offer her was forced optimism.
“Yes.” I said. “Just keep the kids busy, alright?”
“Right.”
When I was twisting around and power-walking to Rowan’s cabin, I shouted over my shoulder, “Give them some of those animal crackers!”
“What animal crackers?”
I turned to elaborate, but Carmel was gone.
When I finally got to Rowan’s cabin, I was sweating through my shirt, and had an idea of what I was going to tell the others. It was… a thing. Which could be considered a disease or a virus—so it was vital that we split into two groups; half of us would search for the others, while the others would look for anything to get in contact with the outside world. An emergency landline, laptop, or cell phone.
I did have one problem, which was lack of evidence. All which was left from the thing I’d found was stuck to my foot. The rest of it was buried in the dirt. It was too dark to search for it, and we would be wasting time doing so.
All of that was in my mind and tangled on my tongue, one single string of incomprehensible gibberish I wasn’t even sure was English, when I stepped into Rowan’s cabin, where four sets of eyes met mine. Olive, cross legged on the floor with her arms folded, Harry, pacing up and down with a brand new bruise blooming under his eye, courtesy of Eleanor almost poking his eyes out—and Rowan himself sitting on top bunk, his legs swinging off of the side.
The guy wasn’t built to be our leader, originally being the laziest of our group, opting for sitting in a tree with a book, rather than helping set up camp activities. Yet he had become our default guy in charge because he so happened to be wearing the head counsellor hat when Allison disappeared. Admittedly, it suited him, the bright red of the cap contrasted his dark curls under a late setting sun through the back window, setting strands of straying hair on fire.
The hat was a little too big for his head, though, slipping over his eyes.
Rowan looked like a divorced father of two, dark circles bruising his eyes, and a very “dad-like” scowl curling on his lips.
With a clipboard pressed to his chest, and a pen he was chewing on, the boy resembled a grown man who had just caught his daughter coming in after curfew. “Josie.” Spitting the pen’s lid out of his mouth, he scribbled something down. I had no doubt he was tracking my attendance for these stupid crisis meetings. His eyes were wild, scanning me for answers. “Where the fuck is Carmel?”
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it with my arms folded. “So, we can swear now?”
“Yes.” Rowan rolled his eyes. “There are no kids here, so go crazy,” he pointed at me with the pen. “Carmel. Where is she?”
“Keeping the kids busy,” Callan’s muffled voice came from the bottom bunk. I could barely see the guy lying on his stomach, his face stuffed into a pillow. “It was my idea to play Shrek for them, but the little shits said they haven’t seen it,” the boy lifted his head, his lips carved into a scowl. “I’m sorry, am I tripping? Everyone’s seen Shrek! Do these kids expect the Minecraft movie?”
“They don’t like that, either,” Harry stopped pacing the cabin. “Eleanor looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if she liked it."
“Fortnite, too.” Olive said, a cushion pressed to her chest. “I suggested playing it a few days ago, and like, zero kids knew what it was.”
“Six counsellors are missing,” Rowan raised his voice over the other’s chatter. “And you’re questioning what games they like?” His eyes found mine once more. “So, Carmel is with the kids? You’re absolutely sure of it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just saw her five minutes ago.”
“Great.” Rowan said, sarcastically. “I’m sure she won’t go missing under mysterious circumstances.”
“Stop.” Olive shot him a glare, throwing a cushion in his face. “I told you. They’re probably lost—- or maybe they went to get help?”
“We’ve all been trained to know every inch of these woods,” Rowan catapulted the cushion right back at her. “They’re not lost.”
“Well, where are they?!” Callan sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. I had never seen the guy looked this vulnerable. “Allison made sense. She probably had other duties, and left us to look after the kids. But six counselors? All of them disappearing—- our phone signal completely cutting out, electricity cutting off, not once, but twice? What is even sucking all of our power?”
“I got the emergency generator working,” Olive raised her arm. “Connor and I managed it before…” she trailed off.
“Before Connor disappeared.” Callan finished for her. “And before him, it was Joey, Lily, Mira, Yuri, Noah, and Teddy. Which isn’t a fucking coincidence,” he shot Rowan a look, who glared down at his lap. I could tell the boy didn’t want to lead all of us, come up with plans and answer questions we desperately needed answering. His job was to look after us, as well as the littles, and so far, he was doing a pretty good job. I could tell by his expression that he thought the opposite, but he had managed to keep the kids from finding out about something as sinister as someone actively kidnapping counsellors.
He made sure they were fed, entertained, and safe watching a movie—while we were scared for our lives. Rowan was keeping up the façade no matter how scared he was. The boy dropped his head into his lap with a sigh. It looked like he might fall asleep before he slammed the clipboard into his face to wake himself up.
Nobody wanted to admit what Callan was saying, but we were all definitely thinking it. “This was planned.” Callan continued.
“Someone out here is fucking with us, very clearly trying to freak us out. Now they've got six of us. ” He spread out his arms. “How long until one of the littles gets taken, huh? A bunch of 18 year olds aren’t going to satisfy them, so what about when they start taking campers? We are in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere with a serial kidnapper on the loose, and did we really just leave fifteen kids in the care of a girl who thought Australia was in England?”
“In Carmel’s defence, she was black-out drunk when she said that,” Olive murmured.
“Voice down!” Rowan hissed. “Do you want to scare them?!” His gaze flicked to me. “Did you do a headcount during dinner?”
I nodded. “Fifteen kids all accounted for. Ten are in the lunch hall, and five girls are in Cassie’s cabin playing Operation.”
“All day?” Olive spoke up. “Weren’t they playing that this morning? I tried to get into their cabin to give them breakfast, but they just shooed me away and locked the door.”
“Fuck.” Rowan ran his fingers down his face. “Alright, I’ll go and see what’s going on with them. Knowing Cassie and her friends, they’re probably zonked out on stolen candy. When all of the kids are accounted for in the lunch cabin, we gather outside.”
I swallowed, speaking up. “I actually wanted to talk to you guys about something.”
Rowan lifted his head, jutting the edge of the clipboard into his chin. “Go on…”
“I found something?” I pulled a face. “I mean, think I’ve found something?”
I wasn't sure how to explain to a dwindling group of exhausted teenagers that there may be something even more terrifying than potential kidnappers out there. Four blank faces started back at me, and Rowan leaned forward with a frown. “Like, in general? Josie, we don’t have time to go foraging.”
“You could call it a lead,” I said. “But I need your eyes to find it.”
“Uh-huh. But what is it?”
Thinking back to what exactly I had seen, I had no idea how to describe it. “It’s better if I just… showed you.”
Rowan looked sceptical, but nodded. “Alright. Josie comes with me. We’ll check out Allison’s cabin again to look for an emergency line, and you can show me whatever this ‘thing’ is you’ve found. Then we’ll escort Cassie and the other girl’s to the lunch cabin. Every camper needs an escort from now on. The rest of you? Act normal. If the kids see you freaking out, they will also freak out—and we need to keep up morale.” The boy pointed to Olive. “Olive, you sit in with the kids and look after them. Callan, check out the emergency generator. Harry, the kids see you as a playground ride, so use that to your advantage. Offer them horse rides if they’re scared. And stop with the ghost stories, it’s making it worse. Give them piggybacks.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Rowan cleared his throat. “We all keep up appearances. If the others turn up, after getting high or… I don’t know, having an orgy in the woods—- I will fucking kill them.” The way he smiled through his teeth, jumping off the bunk, his toes primed like a wild animal, I knew he wasn’t joking. If this was a well-constructed prank the other counselors were playing, I had no doubt Rowan would rip them apart for leaving him as a reluctant leader. To my surprise, the others wandered off with their tasks.
I watched Rowan lift up his pillow and pull out a pack of animal crackers, ripping open the bag and pouring the contents into his mouth. He caught my eye, crunching through mini animal crackers. “I didn’t have lunch,” he said through a mouthful.
I couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief as we headed across camp, Rowan in front of me, while I lagged behind.
“So, what’s the plan?” I caught up to him, almost tripping over a log.
The guy didn’t turn around. “I am completely winging it,” he said through a choked laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and if I’m honest? I just want to go home, dude. I haven’t looked after this many kids in my life, and if I have to smile one more time as a little brat, I am going to fucking lose my mind.” He heaved out a breath. “I am making this up as I go along.”
I laughed that time. “That’s… comforting.”
“Yeah?” He turned to shoot me a grin. “Well, rest assured I am just about as scared—if not more scared than you,” as we stopped in front of Cassie’s cabin, his gaze found mine. “Is it me…” he said softly, “Or does the lunch cabin seem quiet.”
He was right. The windows were dark when they should have been illuminated by the TV screen. Instead of answering, I stepped in front of him, grasping hold of the cabin door. “Cassie?” I knocked three times. “Girl’s, are you okay in there? It’s Josie and Rowan.” I tried the door, and it slid open. Shooting a look at the boy behind me, I turned back to the door.
“We’re coming in, okay?”
“Wait!”
Cassie squeaked from inside. “But he’s not finished!”
Ignoring the coil of dread unravelling in my gut, I forced the door open and stepped into unusually milky white light which flooded the cabin. The first thing I saw was eight-year-old Cassie, sitting cross legged with her back to me. She was sitting in a circle with the other girls, no doubt playing their game.
When I stepped closer, however, I noticed something pooling across the wooden floor. It must have been juice or water that they had spilled. I took another step, but this time, clammy fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. Rowan didn't speak, but his eyes were elsewhere. Initially, they had been drinking in the cabin before they found oblivion entirely. I heard his breath start to accelerate, his grip tightening on my wrist.
I had half a mind to pull away, before I saw the body shaped carcass the girls were sitting around. In the dim light of the cabin, it used to be a person. Teddy. I could still see parts of an identity, freckled cheeks and eyes which were still open, still staring at the sky.
But that was where the similarities to the missing counsellor ended. The thing which used to be Teddy was more of a shell, a scooped out thing resembling a human body. What sent me stumbling backwards, my mouth open in a silent scream, was the almost surgical efficiency of each organ's removal, like it really was a game of operation. His heart, lungs, and intestines were in one pile-- while his brain was cupped between little Cassie's bloody hands— and when my gaze found the little girl, Nina, hiding behind dark curly hair, I was seeing what looked like a toy robot’s head in her hands. In my head, I was thinking about the eye with the metallic pieces glittering around its pupil, and something turned in my gut.
Did I find a human eye?
I was staring at the crevice inside the boy's skull, and the boxes of surgical equipment piled on the girl's bunks, when Rowan finally pulled me back, and I was stumbling straight onto my ass. "We need to go." Rowan spoke through a croak. Cassie’s words rattled in my head. Teddy, I thought.
Teddy wasn’t finished.
"Josie. Get up. Now!" My head was spinning, and I was sure I'd thrown up. I didn’t even realize we had managed to stumble from the girl’s cabin before cool air grazed my face, tickling my cheeks. Something wet and warm, and lumpy was spattering the front of my shirt.
Before I could coerce words, the boy was pulling me to my feet, and I was seeing stars in my eyes, blinking brightly. When the two of us started forwards in a run, Rowan stopped abruptly. I followed his gaze to find several kids surrounding his cabin, where Harry, Olive and Callan were. Maybe I was hallucinating, but Eleanor and Phoebe, both of whom wielding weapons where I had no idea where they had gotten them—looked… taller? Rowan didn’t waste time, dragging me back. “Allison’s cabin.” He spoke in cry which became a sob, pulling me across camp, stumbling over rocky ground.
“We need a phone. Fuck, we need a phone. We need a phone.” Rowan was struggling to stand, occasionally bending over and choking up dust.
“They were playing Operation."
Literal operation.
“But they’re just kids!” I choked out.
Little kids, who had surgically removed every organ inside Teddy’s body.
Little kids, who were hunting the other counsellors down, and would surely be coming for us.
Allison’s cabin was thankfully further into the woods. When we were safe inside and Rowan was locking the door, I dry heaved several times, unable to get the sight of glistening gore splattering the cabin floor from my mind. “Josie.” Rowan was already tearing apart the cabin. “Work with me here, okay? We don’t… we don’t have fucking time to freak out, or to barf—we need to get help. Now.” Rowan was freaking out, and when he hit the ground on his knees, I took over. I searched Allison’s desk first.
Nothing of importance, just documents and invoices. Digging through her draw, there was still nothing. We were running out of time.
Abandoning the desk, I went through her suitcase and bags. When I was crawling under her bed to try and find a weapon, Rowan hissed out. “Wait.” When I turned to him, he was still kneeling, but his foot was clamping down on a loose plank. The guy didn’t hesitate, pulling at the loose plank, which, to my confusion, revealed what looked to me like a trap door.
Rowan turned to me. “You’re kidding.”
I could only stare at the trap door revealing stone steps. He peered down, his voice echoing. “Allison has a fucking secret bunker?”
His lips curved into a surprisingly childish grin which took me off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s so cooooool!”
Lifting my head at the sound of loud squealing, I glimpsed a group of littles led by Eleanor stalking towards us. Eleanor had a hostage. Harry. And with the way she was sticking the blade of a scary looking knife to his throat, I figured she meant business.
Their height difference was almost comical. The eighteen year old guy had to hunch over so the little girl could successfully keep him prisoner. Behind them in the trees, I could see something illuminating the dark, an electric blue light bathing their faces.
So, that was there the power was going.
But what the fuck were these eight-year-old’s doing?
“Josie!” Rowan hissed from down below. He had already climbed down.
I joined him, struggling down the stone steps, before replacing the loose plank. If these kids were as smart as I thought, it wouldn’t take them long to realize the loose plank—also a trap door. Allison’s bunker was more of a control room. There were multiple screens lit up, a chair in front of a working MacBook. The phone-line was cut. But that didn’t make sense.
The kids were unaware of the bunker, so who cut the phone lines? Rowan was on the laptop, struggling to get through the password protection, so I turned my attention to piles of cardboard boxes.
When I opened them, I found myself staring at animal crackers.
There were hundreds of them, packed on top of each other. Looking further, digging through the boxes, I found a piece of old crumpled paper which looked ancient.
REGARDING PROJECT SPEARHEAD SUBJECTS:
PLEASE DO NOT INGEST UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. IF MULTIPLE SUBJECTS INGEST, PLEASE USE SELF DESTRUCT.
ONLY USE IN CASES SUCH AS IMMINENT DESTRUCTION TO THE PLANET/THREAT OF NUCLEAR WAR.
(PLEASE CONTACT FAMILIES IN ADVANCE. MAKE SURE TO INGEST WITH WATER TO AVOID NEUROLOGICAL SYMPTOMS SUCH AS PSYCHOSIS, EXTREME VIOLENCE. PLEASE APPROACH SUBJECTS WITH CAUTION.
Something ice cold slithered down my spine.
Abandoning the boxes, I searched through a cabinet filled with files which were crumbling apart from age. I picked one at random and flicked through it.
Eleanor Summer’s.
Sex: Female.
DOB: 08/05/1977.
Initially, I thought I was reading the dates wrong. But then, with my heart in my throat, I was grasping for other files.
Eli Evermore.
Sex: Male.
'DOB: 08/03/1979.
“Rowan.” I managed to get out through a breath.
“Mm?”
“They’re not children.”
The boy rubbed his eyes, frowning. His eyes were half lidded, almost confused. “Huh?”
“Eleanor.” I whispered. “Is forty five years old.”
He nodded slowly, turning back to the laptop. “How do you spell… documents? I’m looking for digital versions but I can’t find any.”
“You don’t know how to spell documents?”
“It’s been a hard day.” The boy whined, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry.
Whatever I was going to say was choked in the back of my throat, when a loud bang sounded from above, the sounds of childish giggling coming through the floorboards. But the laughter didn’t sound like little kids. No, it sounded like teenager’s who were acting like little kids. I stared at the boxes of animal crackers, and then at the file confirming Eleanor’s real age.
My own words shuddered through me, and I remembered finding Teddy’s dismembered carcass in Cassie’s cabin. When I had caught her gaze, the little girl didn’t look scared, and somehow, her fingers wrapped around the scalpel looked just right.
Like the little bitch knew exactly what she was doing.
“Helloooo?” Harry’s voice was a hysterical giggle. “Olly, Olly, Oxen freeee!”
“Are you in heeeeeeere?” Carmel joined in. I could hear their footsteps above, dancing across the room.
Clamping my hand over my mouth, I dragged my knees to my chest and prayed they weren’t smart enough to figure out we were right underneath them.
Knowing the truth about them, though? I wasn’t counting on it.
….
That was an hour ago.
We’re still stuck down here, and I can get a connection here—thank god. For some reason, Alison has blocked all social media. We need help. We’re at Camp Redwood, and these kids ARE NOT KIDS.
Whatever Project Spearhead is was designed to keep them here.
The phone-line is cut so we can’t get help from whoever was helping Allison. I am counting on you guys.
Get us out of here!
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Though it’s not like I didn’t have things on my mind. Seven counsellors had gone missing—along with our head counsellor who was supposed to be taking care of us.
It started out fairly normal. I mean, one or two counselors wasn’t bad, right?
Lily and Joey had been drowning in sexual tension for a while, so nobody was surprised when they sneaked into the woods for what I could only guess was the most uncomfortable sex ever. But then they didn’t come back.
Teddy and Yuri went to look for them, and then they too also disappeared. It was almost like a wild animal was lying in wait for another unsuspecting teenager to cross its path.
With six of us left, I was definitely freaking out.
I wasn’t expecting summer camp to be like this. I did consider working in my local Sephora, but mom had a preference—and whether I was eighteen years old or not, she was getting her way. So, it was goodbye civilization, and hello Canadian wilderness.
There were fifteen kids queued up in front of me for lunch, and I was having a hard time keeping that optimistic Camp Redwood smile.
I couldn’t help constantly counting how many hours it had been since the latest disappearance, Connor.
He was supposed to be helping with getting the emergency generator going, after the electricity sizzled out.
The boy was gone an hour later. This was happening fast. Whatever was going on with the counsellors was burning through all of us. Would it happen to me?
I had seen so many TV shows and movies set in a summer camp where every camper and counsellor was doomed to die in the grossest way possible. Was that going to happen to us?
I tightened my grip around the stupid ladle I had found myself stirring, a giant pot of chocolate syrup. Watching watery chocolate drip from the edge, I felt nauseous. Of all the summer camp’s mom had to send me to, it had to be the one with vanishing counsellors and zero adult authority. Which meant we were the authority. Twelve teenagers who came to relax and babysit a bunch of little kids before college.
We had to put on brave faces and pretend everything was absolutely fine—and we weren’t all terrified out of our fucking minds.
At the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Harry offering piggybacks to a bunch of little kids, with one of the littles, Eleanor, wrapping her arms around his neck and squealing.
From the look on the boy’s face, he wanted to stop. It was hard to keep a façade when reality was becoming harder and harder to bear. Abandoning his hat completely, Harry was dripping with sweat, trying to twist his lips into the Camp Redwood grin. But looking closer, as he galloped across the cabin with Eleanor holding on for dear life, the guy was ready to collapse. I didn’t blame him.
Entertaining the kids was supposed to be Teddy’s assignment—and he was who knows where. I had taken over lunch duties for Lily, who had joined the long list of the missing.
Harry was supposed to be joining the search party for the missing councellors, but had ended up becoming the little’s personal punching bag.
When I first met him, Harry Carlisle had been the kid who sat on the side-lines and offered sarcastic remarks and crude jokes. Now, he had been reduced to a playground ride the kids pretended didn’t have an off switch.
He had enjoyed maybe the first two rides to raise morale, but now I could see the strain in his eyes. “Ow!” Harry winced when the little girl’s fingers prodded at his eyes. “Hey! Eleanor, not my eyes!” He was dangerously close to toppling over, though managed to catch his footing, ordering all of them off of his back. “Horse Rides are over!” He cupped his mouth, shouting across the cabin when a group of kids surrounded him with equally terrifying faces. Harry backed away and threw his hands up. “Come on, guys, my back isn’t built for all of you!”
“Horsey!” The kids shouted back in a cacophony of giggles.
It was 10 against one.
Against two, if I got involved. Which wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I was putting effort into play-fighting a bunch of eight-year-olds. Harry shot me a hopeful look, though I pretended not to see, busying myself with slightly burned nuggets.
Running his fingers through thick strands of sandy colored hair, Harry pulled a face when a little girl, Phoebe, was brave enough to step forward.
“No.” Harry shook his head, squeezing the front of his counsellor shirt practically glued to him. The temperature still hadn’t let up, and it was heading towards 8PM. Night-time, I thought dizzily. It was almost bedtime, and still no adults. “I refuse to surrender,” He told her. “Phoebe, I am not joking around when I’m saying my back is hurting. We’ve been playing horsey’s for two hours.”
“So?”
“So!” Harry couldn’t yell or hiss, or swear at them. That was a big no-no with kids.
However, I could see he was coming close to breaking that rule. “Because I’m tired,” he said through a Camp Redwood grin, which was quickly twitching into a grimace.
I think all of us had given up with the fake enthusiasm when our colleagues started to vanish. Now, we were just shells of our former happy selves. “And… uh… did you know that if you ride a horsey at this time, the ghosts will come and get you?”
When a boy opened his mouth, his eyes widening with fright, Harry realized his mistake.
“I mean the nice ghosts! Yeah! The uh, the nice ghosts who haunt..I mean play in these woods? It’s a well-known Camp Redwood legend that ghosts don’t like horse rides. In fact,” his lips curved into a devilish smile now he had several faces staring at him. The kids dropped onto the ground to listen, their hands clasped in their laps. This was the quietest they had been all day. I could understand though. Harry had taken the reins around the campfire telling ghost stories for three nights in a row, and the guy was a damn good storyteller.
With every eye on him, Harry lowered his voice into a whisper. “Do you guys want to know what they do?”
The kids nodded with wide eyes.
“They sneak into unsuspecting cabin’s…”
“Harry.”
Rowan’s voice came from outside in a warning. The window was open, and the guy was standing watch to see if any counsellors came back. Since the only adult had disappeared, he had been appointed leader—and the guy was taking himself a little too seriously.
His warning was valid though. Sometimes Harry’s ghost stories were a little too scary for little kids, who’s Imaginations tended to run wild—especially at night. Olive, my cabin-mate, had to give up her bed for a little girl who was convinced Harry’s depiction of Slenderman, “The tree boy” was going to sneak into her bed and turn her into an apple seed.
“Did I say sneak into cabin’s? I meant dance around the woods…” Harry corrected himself. “And they look for their next unsuspecting victim…”
“Harry!”
“Friend.” Harry swallowed his words when a little boy’s eyes went wide. “I mean they are looking for a friend! So, the point of my story is…”
“Horsey rides get us new friends?” Phoebe wasn’t buying it. I could tell from the slight arch of her brow and her widening smile.
The girl shook dark curls out of her face, smirking. I think it was her pleading eyes which won him over. Because, with a sigh which definitely wasn’t joking around, the guy dropped onto his knees and practically spat at her to climb on his back—and she did, plonking one sparkling shoe on top of the boy’s spine with enough force to send him onto his stomach. I might have been imagining it, but since when were these littles so outlandishly spiteful?
The little girl was grinning. Not because she could ride her “horsey” but because Harry looked like he was going to either wring her neck, or wring his own. Mom had a “talk” before I started here, and she made sure to tell me that if adult authority is nowhere to be seen, little kids will start to act out.
I could definitely call it acting out, but I had spent all day with her several days earlier playing with dolls and having a teddy bear picnic when she admitted she didn’t want to swim in the lake with the other kids. Phoebe had been shy and only spoke to me through her teddy bear, so what had changed?
Could the lack of adults really be scaring the kids that much?
“Miss Josie?”
I wasn’t paying attention, half noticing some kids had just helped themselves, piling chicken nuggets and cookies on plastic plates and hurrying to their seats like I couldn’t see them.
Blinking away brain fog, I found myself face to face with Eli, who was probably my favorite camper.
You’re not supposed to have personal preferences when working with little kids, because your opinions could upset them.
However, it was incredibly hard not to like Eli.
Hiding behind a mop of brown curls, the boy was one of the more vocal kids in the group. Eli said he wanted to be an inventor when he was older, and he wanted to make robots. The kid had asked me if I wanted to see his robot collection, but I was too busy with setting up camp activities. Standing in front of me and clutching his tray, the boy was frowning.
“Josie, I just saw some kids steal chicken nuggets.”
I shrugged, shovelling a large portion on his tray. “Well, you can have some extra too.”
Eli’s smile wasn’t as big as usual. “Where’s Teddy?”
I pretended to be oblivious, hastily adding more nuggets to his tray as if I could keep his mouth shut with extra food. “He’ll be back soon! Teddy is just playing in the woods.”
“No, he’s not.”
At first, I thought I’d heard the boy wrong. The kid wasn’t looking at me, counting his nuggets as usual with the prongs of his plastic fork.
I leaned forward with my best smile. “I’m sorry, what was that, Eli?”
The kid lifted his head with a wide grin. “Can I borrow a knife, Josie?”
“Why do you need a knife?”
Leaning forward, the boy shrugged. “There’s a squirrel caught in a trap,” he said. “I want to put it out of its misery, Miss Josie. It’s in a lot of pain.”
That was… dark.
“Well, I can’t give you a knife…” I trailed off, my gaze finding Harry and the growing line of kids awaiting a horse-ride. “But! How about you go and ask Harry for a piggy-back ride?” I pointed to myself with a forced grin. “I’ll save the squirrel!” And when the boy’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, I reached out, grasped his hand, and squeezed it as tight as I could. “Eli, we don’t need to do that, okay? I’m sure the squirrel can be saved and I’ll make sure to take it to the vet, okay?”
“But what if it doesn’t need saving?”
I squeezed tighter. “I’ll save it, Eli. I promise.”
Eli didn’t look convinced, but he nodded with a grumble. “Okay.” He said, before twisting around and joining the other kids torturing Harry. Immediately, I left my station—whether Rowan liked it or not—and headed outside to look for this supposedly dying squirrel. That was something we didn’t need. The sky was darkening when I made it into the woods, cotton candy clouds blurring through the thick canopy of trees. Eli said it was near the sign pointing towards the lake. Though I couldn’t see anything. Odd. That thought retracted in my head, however, when I stepped forward, and a squelching sound cut through the silence of my own heavy breaths mixing with insect chitters and nightlife buzzing above me and beneath me. The wet sounding squelch twisted my gut, and when I stared down at the ground, I didn't know what I was expecting.
A squashed squirrel, perhaps? In Eli’s words, the poor thing had been on the edge of death. Though, when I was thinking about it, there were no animal traps around camp. That was basic health and safety. So, what the fuck was I looking at? The bottom of my shoe was caked in dried blood, but it was the thing which was stamped into the dirt which sent my heart into my throat. It looked like an eye.
But looking closer as I lowered myself to the ground, I glimpsed something metallic, something glistening around the pupil. I picked up a stick and prodded it, though the thing didn’t move. It was definitely an eye—the eye of some kind of animal, judging from the pigmentation and the color of the iris.
But it was the metallic pieces around the eye which was throwing me off. Part of a trap, maybe? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that a poor critter had been ripped apart, and a wild bear had dropped its dinner near the camp—and the metal encasing its eye was most likely pieces of trap.
Peering closer, though, I glimpsed silver slithers in what appeared to be the destroyed nerve caked to my shoe. After scraping most of it off, I caught glistening pieces of blood stained metal catching the late-setting sun. This time, I pinched a piece between my forefinger and thumb. It didn’t look like a bear-trap. The metal itself wasn’t serrated or old. In fact, it was new.
Which begged the question: What was this thing?
Whatever it was, it had started converting what looked like a critter’s eye, before stopping. Was it a virus? When that thought slammed into me, I fell back with a hiss, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I almost jumped out of my skin, diving to my feet.
Carmel was standing behind me, grasping what looked like her sixth or seventh coffee. The girl had been running to and from the coffee machine all day, and I had been silently counting how much caffeine she was consuming. Carmel had been a well put together and fairly popular girl when camp started. She immediately had everyone following her beck and call, all of the boy’s (and girl’s) following her around.
Carmel wasn't straight. She made that clear on the bus to camp, announcing she wasn’t interested in guy’s, and that she had a girlfriend back home. Still though, the guy’s still followed her because... well, she was pretty.
Carmel was my bunk-mate and had woken me up on three separate occasions at 6am to go through the exact same hair and makeup routine. Now though, there was no sign of makeup or even that she had brushed her hair.
Instead of its usual tidy blonde ponytail, Carmel’s curls were tied into raggedy pigtails with ribbons I was sure she had stolen from a camper’s doll. I think what was keeping her going was coffee.
Carmel regarded me with too-wide eyes and a Camp Redwood smile we all knew was fake. She was grasping onto her coffee cup for dear life. “Josie!” she jumped when I jumped, which almost made me laugh. “Rowan’s having an emergency meeting in his cabin,” she said.
“So, whatever you’re doing can wait.”
Her gaze flicked to the ground. “What… are you doing?”
For a brief moment, I considered telling Carmel I may have found what looked like a virus which turned flesh and blood to metal—before I remembered her reaction when a spider had crept into our cabin.
Whatever this thing was, keeping it a secret for now was probably what was best. Making sure I was standing on the thing, I shrugged. “I was looking for the others.”
Carmel cocked her head, before resting her coffee on the ground. “In the dirt?”
“Footprints, Carmel.”
The girl looked confused before shaking her head. “Okay, whatever. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec, I just need to make sure the kids are okay. We’re putting a movie on for them in the lunch hall, so that will hopefully distract them for maybe two hours.”
I nodded. “Did anyone find a phone?”
“Not with signal!”
“Carmel.” I had to fight back the urge to yell at her to keep her voice down. Kids were curious, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we had some littles peeking into our conversation. “You’re okay.” I said softly.
“I mean, we’re not okay, because yes, things are very.. screwed up right now, but we need to be… optimistic.” I exhaled out a breath, searching for eyes in the dark. I tried to smile, tried to keep up that Camp Redwood façade we were all held hostage by until the last day of camp (According to rule 5 in the Camp Redwood counsellor handbook, all counsellors must retain a smile and a positive attitude. If any counselor is caught making a frowny face, or spreading what we call “unhappiness” we will be forced to send the counselor home).
At this point, I didn’t give a fuck—but part of me didn’t want to scare the little kids.
“No, Josie.” The girl grasped hold of my shoulders with a grin rivalling the joker. “I am so sick of being told to keep smiling, because what is that doing? Three of my cabin-mates are missing! I’m the only one left, and Rowan and co expect me to keep up this act? We are fucked!"
She cupped her mouth. “F. U. C. K. E. D. We have zero adults, an unexplainable loss of power every few hours which makes no sense in the middle of nowhere—I mean what the fuck is out there which is sucking that much power, huh? There is no explanation! There should be an explanation. I should be able to think, “oh, yeah! That’s why! But no. Things are happening, and I don’t know why they’re happening. Rowan is trying to force us to act like things are okay —but in reality? He is shitting himself, Josie! We are ALL shitting ourselves!”
I took a step back, keeping hold of her hand. Carmel was trembling, her hands clammy and slimy entangled in mine. “He's just trying to keep the kids from freaking out."
She groaned, tears glistening in her eyes. “Okay, yeah! I’m blaming them because they keep acting like everything is okay—”
“Everything IS okay.” I turned to her with what I hoped was a reassuring smile—knowing damn well about the thing I’d found in the dirt. If that thing could spread, it would have a field day in an enclosed space like a summer camp.
I noticed my own hands which had been touching the thing making contact with Carmel, and dropped my hands, inwardly squirming.
If that thing was a virus, I was already fucked.
Maybe Carmel too.
If it was fast acting, it could explain the counsellor disappearances. I was already putting together a plan in my head as we headed back to the main cabin. We had to put together a search party. Some of us would stay with the kids, while a small group would venture into the woods to try and look for traces of the missing. If I was right, we would find a horror scene in the woods, and yes, that would be the time to panic.
If I was wrong, however, there was still hope.
“Are we going to be okay?”
Carmel’s voice sliced into my thoughts, and I took a moment to drink in the camp around us.
Usually, when the sky was turning twilight, it would be bustling with campers and counselors toasting marshmallows on the fire and gathering around to fall asleep to Harry’s ghost stories. Carmel would be knelt with a bunch of kids, watching a YouTube video they had all insisted on her watching, while Rowan would be hiding behind his book with his knees to his chest, his gaze glued to every page he flicked through, ignoring everyone.
Teddy, making funny faces for kids who were scared, and Connor, handing out plates of burgers and hot dogs. I remembered feeling safe and at home, cosy around the flickering orange of the fire as chatter turned to laughter and white-noise in my head. After the kids went back to their cabins, the group of us would resume positions around the fire, but this time it was more… intimate. With Allison in her cabin, we kind of ignored her rules all together.
Making out happened, because of course it did. Beers stolen from Allison’s mini fridge and raging hormones, as well as late-night skinny dipping in the lake did that. Couples went off into the woods, and we all felt completely comfortable and at home with each other.
Looking around at that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. That feeling was gone.
The feeling of family and familiarity and friendship. What I was looking at now was that same log we had all sat on, now turned on its side—hot dog buns and candy wrappers littering the ground. It was a ghost camp.
I could still see Connor’s jacket slung on the ground, and Lili’s bright pink ray bans sitting on a beer can. Because there were no adults to yell at us to clean up after ourselves. I was frowning at the skeleton of the fire when Carmel nudged me. “Hey.” Her voice was shaking slightly. “Josie? You didn’t answer my question.” Carmel wanted me to be the voice of reason, and I wasn’t that. I was just as scared as her.
There was only so much I could sugar-coat, and I gave up doing that after the third counsellor disappeared. All I could offer her was forced optimism.
“Yes.” I said. “Just keep the kids busy, alright?”
“Right.”
When I was twisting around and power-walking to Rowan’s cabin, I shouted over my shoulder, “Give them some of those animal crackers!”
“What animal crackers?”
I turned to elaborate, but Carmel was gone.
When I finally got to Rowan’s cabin, I was sweating through my shirt, and had an idea of what I was going to tell the others. It was… a thing. Which could be considered a disease or a virus—so it was vital that we split into two groups; half of us would search for the others, while the others would look for anything to get in contact with the outside world. An emergency landline, laptop, or cell phone.
I did have one problem, which was lack of evidence. All which was left from the thing I’d found was stuck to my foot. The rest of it was buried in the dirt. It was too dark to search for it, and we would be wasting time doing so.
All of that was in my mind and tangled on my tongue, one single string of incomprehensible gibberish I wasn’t even sure was English, when I stepped into Rowan’s cabin, where four sets of eyes met mine. Olive, cross legged on the floor with her arms folded, Harry, pacing up and down with a brand new bruise blooming under his eye, courtesy of Eleanor almost poking his eyes out—and Rowan himself sitting on top bunk, his legs swinging off of the side.
The guy wasn’t built to be our leader, originally being the laziest of our group, opting for sitting in a tree with a book, rather than helping set up camp activities. Yet he had become our default guy in charge because he so happened to be wearing the head counsellor hat when Allison disappeared. Admittedly, it suited him, the bright red of the cap contrasted his dark curls under a late setting sun through the back window, setting strands of straying hair on fire.
The hat was a little too big for his head, though, slipping over his eyes.
Rowan looked like a divorced father of two, dark circles bruising his eyes, and a very “dad-like” scowl curling on his lips.
With a clipboard pressed to his chest, and a pen he was chewing on, the boy resembled a grown man who had just caught his daughter coming in after curfew. “Josie.” Spitting the pen’s lid out of his mouth, he scribbled something down. I had no doubt he was tracking my attendance for these stupid crisis meetings. His eyes were wild, scanning me for answers. “Where the fuck is Carmel?”
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it with my arms folded. “So, we can swear now?”
“Yes.” Rowan rolled his eyes. “There are no kids here, so go crazy,” he pointed at me with the pen. “Carmel. Where is she?”
“Keeping the kids busy,” Callan’s muffled voice came from the bottom bunk. I could barely see the guy lying on his stomach, his face stuffed into a pillow. “It was my idea to play Shrek for them, but the little shits said they haven’t seen it,” the boy lifted his head, his lips carved into a scowl. “I’m sorry, am I tripping? Everyone’s seen Shrek! Do these kids expect the Minecraft movie?”
“They don’t like that, either,” Harry stopped pacing the cabin. “Eleanor looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if she liked it."
“Fortnite, too.” Olive said, a cushion pressed to her chest. “I suggested playing it a few days ago, and like, zero kids knew what it was.”
“Six counsellors are missing,” Rowan raised his voice over the other’s chatter. “And you’re questioning what games they like?” His eyes found mine once more. “So, Carmel is with the kids? You’re absolutely sure of it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just saw her five minutes ago.”
“Great.” Rowan said, sarcastically. “I’m sure she won’t go missing under mysterious circumstances.”
“Stop.” Olive shot him a glare, throwing a cushion in his face. “I told you. They’re probably lost—- or maybe they went to get help?”
“We’ve all been trained to know every inch of these woods,” Rowan catapulted the cushion right back at her. “They’re not lost.”
“Well, where are they?!” Callan sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. I had never seen the guy looked this vulnerable. “Allison made sense. She probably had other duties, and left us to look after the kids. But six counselors? All of them disappearing—- our phone signal completely cutting out, electricity cutting off, not once, but twice? What is even sucking all of our power?”
“I got the emergency generator working,” Olive raised her arm. “Connor and I managed it before…” she trailed off.
“Before Connor disappeared.” Callan finished for her. “And before him, it was Joey, Lily, Mira, Yuri, Noah, and Teddy. Which isn’t a fucking coincidence,” he shot Rowan a look, who glared down at his lap. I could tell the boy didn’t want to lead all of us, come up with plans and answer questions we desperately needed answering. His job was to look after us, as well as the littles, and so far, he was doing a pretty good job. I could tell by his expression that he thought the opposite, but he had managed to keep the kids from finding out about something as sinister as someone actively kidnapping counsellors.
He made sure they were fed, entertained, and safe watching a movie—while we were scared for our lives. Rowan was keeping up the façade no matter how scared he was. The boy dropped his head into his lap with a sigh. It looked like he might fall asleep before he slammed the clipboard into his face to wake himself up.
Nobody wanted to admit what Callan was saying, but we were all definitely thinking it. “This was planned.” Callan continued.
“Someone out here is fucking with us, very clearly trying to freak us out. Now they've got six of us. ” He spread out his arms. “How long until one of the littles gets taken, huh? A bunch of 18 year olds aren’t going to satisfy them, so what about when they start taking campers? We are in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere with a serial kidnapper on the loose, and did we really just leave fifteen kids in the care of a girl who thought Australia was in England?”
“In Carmel’s defence, she was black-out drunk when she said that,” Olive murmured.
“Voice down!” Rowan hissed. “Do you want to scare them?!” His gaze flicked to me. “Did you do a headcount during dinner?”
I nodded. “Fifteen kids all accounted for. Ten are in the lunch hall, and five girls are in Cassie’s cabin playing Operation.”
“All day?” Olive spoke up. “Weren’t they playing that this morning? I tried to get into their cabin to give them breakfast, but they just shooed me away and locked the door.”
“Fuck.” Rowan ran his fingers down his face. “Alright, I’ll go and see what’s going on with them. Knowing Cassie and her friends, they’re probably zonked out on stolen candy. When all of the kids are accounted for in the lunch cabin, we gather outside.”
I swallowed, speaking up. “I actually wanted to talk to you guys about something.”
Rowan lifted his head, jutting the edge of the clipboard into his chin. “Go on…”
“I found something?” I pulled a face. “I mean, think I’ve found something?”
I wasn't sure how to explain to a dwindling group of exhausted teenagers that there may be something even more terrifying than potential kidnappers out there. Four blank faces started back at me, and Rowan leaned forward with a frown. “Like, in general? Josie, we don’t have time to go foraging.”
“You could call it a lead,” I said. “But I need your eyes to find it.”
“Uh-huh. But what is it?”
Thinking back to what exactly I had seen, I had no idea how to describe it. “It’s better if I just… showed you.”
Rowan looked sceptical, but nodded. “Alright. Josie comes with me. We’ll check out Allison’s cabin again to look for an emergency line, and you can show me whatever this ‘thing’ is you’ve found. Then we’ll escort Cassie and the other girl’s to the lunch cabin. Every camper needs an escort from now on. The rest of you? Act normal. If the kids see you freaking out, they will also freak out—and we need to keep up morale.” The boy pointed to Olive. “Olive, you sit in with the kids and look after them. Callan, check out the emergency generator. Harry, the kids see you as a playground ride, so use that to your advantage. Offer them horse rides if they’re scared. And stop with the ghost stories, it’s making it worse. Give them piggybacks.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Rowan cleared his throat. “We all keep up appearances. If the others turn up, after getting high or… I don’t know, having an orgy in the woods—- I will fucking kill them.” The way he smiled through his teeth, jumping off the bunk, his toes primed like a wild animal, I knew he wasn’t joking. If this was a well-constructed prank the other counselors were playing, I had no doubt Rowan would rip them apart for leaving him as a reluctant leader. To my surprise, the others wandered off with their tasks.
I watched Rowan lift up his pillow and pull out a pack of animal crackers, ripping open the bag and pouring the contents into his mouth. He caught my eye, crunching through mini animal crackers. “I didn’t have lunch,” he said through a mouthful.
I couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief as we headed across camp, Rowan in front of me, while I lagged behind.
“So, what’s the plan?” I caught up to him, almost tripping over a log.
The guy didn’t turn around. “I am completely winging it,” he said through a choked laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and if I’m honest? I just want to go home, dude. I haven’t looked after this many kids in my life, and if I have to smile one more time as a little brat, I am going to fucking lose my mind.” He heaved out a breath. “I am making this up as I go along.”
I laughed that time. “That’s… comforting.”
“Yeah?” He turned to shoot me a grin. “Well, rest assured I am just about as scared—if not more scared than you,” as we stopped in front of Cassie’s cabin, his gaze found mine. “Is it me…” he said softly, “Or does the lunch cabin seem quiet.”
He was right. The windows were dark when they should have been illuminated by the TV screen. Instead of answering, I stepped in front of him, grasping hold of the cabin door. “Cassie?” I knocked three times. “Girl’s, are you okay in there? It’s Josie and Rowan.” I tried the door, and it slid open. Shooting a look at the boy behind me, I turned back to the door.
“We’re coming in, okay?”
“Wait!”
Cassie squeaked from inside. “But he’s not finished!”
Ignoring the coil of dread unravelling in my gut, I forced the door open and stepped into unusually milky white light which flooded the cabin. The first thing I saw was eight-year-old Cassie, sitting cross legged with her back to me. She was sitting in a circle with the other girls, no doubt playing their game.
When I stepped closer, however, I noticed something pooling across the wooden floor. It must have been juice or water that they had spilled. I took another step, but this time, clammy fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. Rowan didn't speak, but his eyes were elsewhere. Initially, they had been drinking in the cabin before they found oblivion entirely. I heard his breath start to accelerate, his grip tightening on my wrist.
I had half a mind to pull away, before I saw the body shaped carcass the girls were sitting around. In the dim light of the cabin, it used to be a person. Teddy. I could still see parts of an identity, freckled cheeks and eyes which were still open, still staring at the sky.
But that was where the similarities to the missing counsellor ended. The thing which used to be Teddy was more of a shell, a scooped out thing resembling a human body. What sent me stumbling backwards, my mouth open in a silent scream, was the almost surgical efficiency of each organ's removal, like it really was a game of operation. His heart, lungs, and intestines were in one pile-- while his brain was cupped between little Cassie's bloody hands— and when my gaze found the little girl, Nina, hiding behind dark curly hair, I was seeing what looked like a toy robot’s head in her hands. In my head, I was thinking about the eye with the metallic pieces glittering around its pupil, and something turned in my gut.
Did I find a human eye?
I was staring at the crevice inside the boy's skull, and the boxes of surgical equipment piled on the girl's bunks, when Rowan finally pulled me back, and I was stumbling straight onto my ass. "We need to go." Rowan spoke through a croak. Cassie’s words rattled in my head. Teddy, I thought.
Teddy wasn’t finished.
"Josie. Get up. Now!" My head was spinning, and I was sure I'd thrown up. I didn’t even realize we had managed to stumble from the girl’s cabin before cool air grazed my face, tickling my cheeks. Something wet and warm, and lumpy was spattering the front of my shirt.
Before I could coerce words, the boy was pulling me to my feet, and I was seeing stars in my eyes, blinking brightly. When the two of us started forwards in a run, Rowan stopped abruptly. I followed his gaze to find several kids surrounding his cabin, where Harry, Olive and Callan were. Maybe I was hallucinating, but Eleanor and Phoebe, both of whom wielding weapons where I had no idea where they had gotten them—looked… taller? Rowan didn’t waste time, dragging me back. “Allison’s cabin.” He spoke in cry which became a sob, pulling me across camp, stumbling over rocky ground.
“We need a phone. Fuck, we need a phone. We need a phone.” Rowan was struggling to stand, occasionally bending over and choking up dust.
“They were playing Operation."
Literal operation.
“But they’re just kids!” I choked out.
Little kids, who had surgically removed every organ inside Teddy’s body.
Little kids, who were hunting the other counsellors down, and would surely be coming for us.
Allison’s cabin was thankfully further into the woods. When we were safe inside and Rowan was locking the door, I dry heaved several times, unable to get the sight of glistening gore splattering the cabin floor from my mind. “Josie.” Rowan was already tearing apart the cabin. “Work with me here, okay? We don’t… we don’t have fucking time to freak out, or to barf—we need to get help. Now.” Rowan was freaking out, and when he hit the ground on his knees, I took over. I searched Allison’s desk first.
Nothing of importance, just documents and invoices. Digging through her draw, there was still nothing. We were running out of time.
Abandoning the desk, I went through her suitcase and bags. When I was crawling under her bed to try and find a weapon, Rowan hissed out. “Wait.” When I turned to him, he was still kneeling, but his foot was clamping down on a loose plank. The guy didn’t hesitate, pulling at the loose plank, which, to my confusion, revealed what looked to me like a trap door.
Rowan turned to me. “You’re kidding.”
I could only stare at the trap door revealing stone steps. He peered down, his voice echoing. “Allison has a fucking secret bunker?”
His lips curved into a surprisingly childish grin which took me off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s so cooooool!”
Lifting my head at the sound of loud squealing, I glimpsed a group of littles led by Eleanor stalking towards us. Eleanor had a hostage. Harry. And with the way she was sticking the blade of a scary looking knife to his throat, I figured she meant business.
Their height difference was almost comical. The eighteen year old guy had to hunch over so the little girl could successfully keep him prisoner. Behind them in the trees, I could see something illuminating the dark, an electric blue light bathing their faces.
So, that was there the power was going.
But what the fuck were these eight-year-old’s doing?
“Josie!” Rowan hissed from down below. He had already climbed down.
I joined him, struggling down the stone steps, before replacing the loose plank. If these kids were as smart as I thought, it wouldn’t take them long to realize the loose plank—also a trap door. Allison’s bunker was more of a control room. There were multiple screens lit up, a chair in front of a working MacBook. The phone-line was cut. But that didn’t make sense.
The kids were unaware of the bunker, so who cut the phone lines? Rowan was on the laptop, struggling to get through the password protection, so I turned my attention to piles of cardboard boxes.
When I opened them, I found myself staring at animal crackers.
There were hundreds of them, packed on top of each other. Looking further, digging through the boxes, I found a piece of old crumpled paper which looked ancient.
REGARDING PROJECT SPEARHEAD SUBJECTS:
PLEASE DO NOT INGEST UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. IF MULTIPLE SUBJECTS INGEST, PLEASE USE SELF DESTRUCT.
ONLY USE IN CASES SUCH AS IMMINENT DESTRUCTION TO THE PLANET/THREAT OF NUCLEAR WAR.
(PLEASE CONTACT FAMILIES IN ADVANCE. MAKE SURE TO INGEST WITH WATER TO AVOID NEUROLOGICAL SYMPTOMS SUCH AS PSYCHOSIS, EXTREME VIOLENCE. PLEASE APPROACH SUBJECTS WITH CAUTION.
Something ice cold slithered down my spine.
Abandoning the boxes, I searched through a cabinet filled with files which were crumbling apart from age. I picked one at random and flicked through it.
Eleanor Summer’s.
Sex: Female.
DOB: 08/05/1977.
Initially, I thought I was reading the dates wrong. But then, with my heart in my throat, I was grasping for other files.
Eli Evermore.
Sex: Male.
'DOB: 08/03/1979.
“Rowan.” I managed to get out through a breath.
“Mm?”
“They’re not children.”
The boy rubbed his eyes, frowning. His eyes were half lidded, almost confused. “Huh?”
“Eleanor.” I whispered. “Is forty five years old.”
He nodded slowly, turning back to the laptop. “How do you spell… documents? I’m looking for digital versions but I can’t find any.”
“You don’t know how to spell documents?”
“It’s been a hard day.” The boy whined, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry.
Whatever I was going to say was choked in the back of my throat, when a loud bang sounded from above, the sounds of childish giggling coming through the floorboards. But the laughter didn’t sound like little kids. No, it sounded like teenager’s who were acting like little kids. I stared at the boxes of animal crackers, and then at the file confirming Eleanor’s real age.
My own words shuddered through me, and I remembered finding Teddy’s dismembered carcass in Cassie’s cabin. When I had caught her gaze, the little girl didn’t look scared, and somehow, her fingers wrapped around the scalpel looked just right.
Like the little bitch knew exactly what she was doing.
“Helloooo?” Harry’s voice was a hysterical giggle. “Olly, Olly, Oxen freeee!”
“Are you in heeeeeeere?” Carmel joined in. I could hear their footsteps above, dancing across the room.
Clamping my hand over my mouth, I dragged my knees to my chest and prayed they weren’t smart enough to figure out we were right underneath them.
Knowing the truth about them, though? I wasn’t counting on it.
….
That was an hour ago.
We’re still stuck down here, and I can get a connection here—thank god. For some reason, Alison has blocked all social media. We need help. We’re at Camp Redwood, and these kids ARE NOT KIDS.
Whatever Project Spearhead is was designed to keep them here.
The phone-line is cut so we can’t get help from whoever was helping Allison. I am counting on you guys.
Get us out of here!
2023.05.27 12:56 SammyGreen AITA for being upset over a friend pouring a full can of water into my bolognese and then complaining about it not having enough taste?
I was over at a friends house to prove that you can make a good vegetarian bolognese where her roommate was also invited.
I went all out on the ingredients and even made a practice one at home just to be sure. I thought it tasted fantastic so was ready to go at it.
I must’ve spent an hour simmering it, adding spices, cutting garlic into the thinnest slices ever, etc.
My friend then fills the used tomato can with water and just pours it in “to get the last of it out”.
In my opinion it was ruined. They agreed and said it was tasteless. Except that it wasn’t because of the water. It must have always been tasteless.
Friend and roommate then start making a new bolognese because obviously I was wrong. They use the ingredients I bought whole the roommate laughs a little while saying “sorry for just taking over :D”.
I’m not super talkative and leave after dinner saying that I’m tired and have work the next day anyway. Didn’t help that they kept saying it was good they made a new one and how impressed they were over they made such a good sauce in only 20 min.
Friend texts me a couple of days later and says I owe them an apology for making dinner awkward.
Yeah, this is of course just my side of the story, and even though I feel that I wasn’t talkative, I don’t doubt that my aura must’ve given off an awkward vibe.
I’m not looking for an apology from them. Just some acknowledgment that OF COURSE YOURE GOING TO LOSE A LOT OF FLAVOR IF YOU DILUTE IT WITH WATER.
Unless I’m the asshole?
Edit 2 by popular request, I’ll edit the post with the recipe when I get home (more likely tomorrow since if you think my grammar is awful now then you’ll be blown away by my drunk grammar 😝)
Hope you guys like a lot of mushrooms, lentils and garlic!
Edit 3 As promised the recipe I used :) It was in Danish but I was lazy so just threw it into Google translate so apologies if it’s a bit wonky:
ingredients
For the Bolognese: 200 g dried brown or green lentils
2 tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
8 cloves of garlic, very thinly sliced
500 g fresh mushrooms, roughly chopped
2 carrots, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
800 g canned chopped tomatoes
3 tablespoons tomato puree
125 ml red wine (optional) (I obviously did 😄)
250ml concentrated vegetable broth
2 teaspoons dried basil
1 teaspoon dried oregano
Salt and pepper to taste
For the pasta: 500 g of your favorite pasta
Salt for cooking pasta
Fresh basil for garnish
Grated parmesan cheese for garnish
Instructions Rinse the lentils under cold water. In a medium-sized pot, add the lentils and enough water to cover them by approx. 2.5 cm.
Bring the water to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer the lentils until tender, about 20-30 minutes.
Drain the lentils and set them aside.
Heat olive oil in a large pan over medium heat. Add the onion and sauté until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes.
Add the very thinly sliced garlic cloves to the pan. Cook them until lightly caramelized, about 2-3 minutes, stirring constantly to prevent them from burning.
Add mushrooms, carrots and celery to the pan.
Cook the vegetables, stirring occasionally, until soft, about 10 minutes.
Add the chopped tomatoes, tomato paste, red wine (if using), vegetable stock, basil and oregano to the pan.
Stir to combine the ingredients, then let the sauce simmer for approx. 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add the cooked lentils to the pan. Stir the sauce to combine the lentils with the other ingredients, then continue to simmer for about 10 minutes, or until the sauce has thickened to your liking.
Season the sauce with salt and pepper to taste.
While the sauce is simmering, cook your pasta in a large pot of salted boiling water according to the instructions on the package
Edit Hadn’t considered it was done out of pure maliciousness but I was always going to have a real talk with her about this after a cool down period anyway… like not via a text.
I’ve cut people out of my life before so it’s not like I’m afraid to do that. I just figure that if I upset a friend that much I’d they’d give me a chance to have a coffee before completely cutting me out of their lives. Could be a misunderstanding. Could be that person is an asshole through-and-through.
Even if that makes people think I’m a schmuck ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
No way in holy hell I’m apologizing though so if it turns out that’s the hill she’s willing to die on then fuck it. I’m too old and have too little time to waste on people.
submitted by SammyGreen to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]
I went all out on the ingredients and even made a practice one at home just to be sure. I thought it tasted fantastic so was ready to go at it.
I must’ve spent an hour simmering it, adding spices, cutting garlic into the thinnest slices ever, etc.
My friend then fills the used tomato can with water and just pours it in “to get the last of it out”.
In my opinion it was ruined. They agreed and said it was tasteless. Except that it wasn’t because of the water. It must have always been tasteless.
Friend and roommate then start making a new bolognese because obviously I was wrong. They use the ingredients I bought whole the roommate laughs a little while saying “sorry for just taking over :D”.
I’m not super talkative and leave after dinner saying that I’m tired and have work the next day anyway. Didn’t help that they kept saying it was good they made a new one and how impressed they were over they made such a good sauce in only 20 min.
Friend texts me a couple of days later and says I owe them an apology for making dinner awkward.
Yeah, this is of course just my side of the story, and even though I feel that I wasn’t talkative, I don’t doubt that my aura must’ve given off an awkward vibe.
I’m not looking for an apology from them. Just some acknowledgment that OF COURSE YOURE GOING TO LOSE A LOT OF FLAVOR IF YOU DILUTE IT WITH WATER.
Unless I’m the asshole?
Edit 2 by popular request, I’ll edit the post with the recipe when I get home (more likely tomorrow since if you think my grammar is awful now then you’ll be blown away by my drunk grammar 😝)
Hope you guys like a lot of mushrooms, lentils and garlic!
Edit 3 As promised the recipe I used :) It was in Danish but I was lazy so just threw it into Google translate so apologies if it’s a bit wonky:
ingredients
For the Bolognese: 200 g dried brown or green lentils
2 tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
8 cloves of garlic, very thinly sliced
500 g fresh mushrooms, roughly chopped
2 carrots, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
800 g canned chopped tomatoes
3 tablespoons tomato puree
125 ml red wine (optional) (I obviously did 😄)
250ml concentrated vegetable broth
2 teaspoons dried basil
1 teaspoon dried oregano
Salt and pepper to taste
For the pasta: 500 g of your favorite pasta
Salt for cooking pasta
Fresh basil for garnish
Grated parmesan cheese for garnish
Instructions Rinse the lentils under cold water. In a medium-sized pot, add the lentils and enough water to cover them by approx. 2.5 cm.
Bring the water to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer the lentils until tender, about 20-30 minutes.
Drain the lentils and set them aside.
Heat olive oil in a large pan over medium heat. Add the onion and sauté until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes.
Add the very thinly sliced garlic cloves to the pan. Cook them until lightly caramelized, about 2-3 minutes, stirring constantly to prevent them from burning.
Add mushrooms, carrots and celery to the pan.
Cook the vegetables, stirring occasionally, until soft, about 10 minutes.
Add the chopped tomatoes, tomato paste, red wine (if using), vegetable stock, basil and oregano to the pan.
Stir to combine the ingredients, then let the sauce simmer for approx. 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add the cooked lentils to the pan. Stir the sauce to combine the lentils with the other ingredients, then continue to simmer for about 10 minutes, or until the sauce has thickened to your liking.
Season the sauce with salt and pepper to taste.
While the sauce is simmering, cook your pasta in a large pot of salted boiling water according to the instructions on the package
Edit Hadn’t considered it was done out of pure maliciousness but I was always going to have a real talk with her about this after a cool down period anyway… like not via a text.
I’ve cut people out of my life before so it’s not like I’m afraid to do that. I just figure that if I upset a friend that much I’d they’d give me a chance to have a coffee before completely cutting me out of their lives. Could be a misunderstanding. Could be that person is an asshole through-and-through.
Even if that makes people think I’m a schmuck ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
No way in holy hell I’m apologizing though so if it turns out that’s the hill she’s willing to die on then fuck it. I’m too old and have too little time to waste on people.
2023.05.26 18:46 M_Tootles Sweetrobin's Doll Isn't the Only "Giant" In The Snow Castle (Spoilers Extended)
(TL;DR in the conclusion at the bottom. But David Lynch fans will miss the Blue Velvet clue if they do that.)
Earlier this week on the ASOIAF subreddit, FROTHYxCOFFEE asked about the identity of the "giant" in the Ghost of High Heart's seemingly prophetic vision in ASOS Arya VIII:
That bigger pay-off, it's popularly believed, is that the "savage giant" Sansa will slay is Littlefinger, where Petyr 'is' the giant since his grandfather's sigil was "a grey stone head with fiery eyes" representing the Titan of Braavos — a kind of giant (the rationale goes):
Nonetheless, I have to point out that when the "popular belief" focuses on and (probably rightly) dismisses the idea that Sansa tearing the doll's head off in the snow castle Winterfell could be Sansa "slaying the savage giant in a castle built of snow", it overlooks a more subtle reading of the doll-and-snow castle incident per which it is part of a far more significant pay-off for the Ghost of High Heart's prophecy.
Thus the Ghost's prophecy may well be about Sansa killing Sweetrobin by (accidentally) poisoning him with sweetsleep ("the gentlest of poisons") to keep him calm during a feast, in keeping with the prophecy's referring to Sansa when she's "slaying a savage giant" as "that maid again", which points back to how she's first described, as a venomous "maid at a feast":
I see two potential problems with this reading. They're not necessarily fatal, but they're not nothing. Certainly they're enough to consider that the doll-and-snow-castle incident may be at the core of this, after all, albeit not in the consequence-free way so easily and popularly dismissed.
(Petyr's disavowals of his paternal lineage dovetails with Petyr arguably seeming to care more about his mother than his father. [He names "Alayne" after his mother, but says nothing much about his father save to mock him for bringing Petyr to a hermit to have him tell his future when he was a boy.] Full disclosure: I happen to think Petyr's mother's lineage is very, very, very significant, so the idea that he cares about his maternal bloodline than his father's dovetails with my preconceived notions. But nevertheless.)
It's not a "giant" because giants aren't titans. And not just because are titans and giants are totally different things in classical (Greek) mythology. The bigger problem is that titans and giants are cleary wildly different things diegetically (i.e. in-world).
A titan, in the world of ASOIAF, truly is a giant man:
It's true that in Old Nan's stories — whose version of a giant is totally debunked by reality, remember — the Titan of Braavos is a verbatim "giant" in that same "giant man" sense:
However, where the Titan of Braavos of Old Nan's fiction is clearly savage, per se, like the "savage giant" in the Ghost of High Heart's vision—
In sum: People might 'be' their sigils, but (a) Littlefinger 'isn't' the Titan of Braavos, and (b) even if he were, the Titan of Braavos isn't properly "a savage giant" unless you squint.
That said, make no mistake: you always have to squint a bit when it comes to prophecy, and I am thus in no way saying that Littlefinger is deductively ruled out as the referent of the Ghost's prophecy. I'm just saying there are good reasons to think he might not be.
First, there's the simple fact that Robert lives in a castle in the clouds—
Indeed, that climb is also giant-coded, in its way:
Second, as Lord of the Vale and the Eyrie, Robert has dominion over the Giant's Lance (the mountain the Eyrie is built on), which can be seen as 'coding' him as "the Giant" in question.
Third, recall that young Lord Robert throws his chamber pot at Maester Colemon and shatters it (which is hardly a civilized thing to do, and arguably savage). In so doing, he creates a scene that recalls another scene caused by a (different) figurative 'savage giant': Shagga is a verbatim "savage" and a figurative 'giant' — he is "massive" per AGOT Tyrion VI, and his "hand was so big he could have crushed the maester's skull like an eggshell had he squeezed" per ACOK Tyrion VI — and he smashes in Maester Pycelle's door and causes him to piss everywhere:
And note that true giants "snuffled constantly". Who does that sound like if not Sweetrobin?
Note 1: Those "plush blue velvet" curtains — combined with Sweetrobin's latent 'horniness' for "Alayne" — should jump off the page as a further reference to giant-like "snuffling" to anyone who's seen David Lynch's 1986 masterpiece Blue Velvet, a film in which the main villain Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) keeps a singer prisoner (a la Petyr holding Marillion prisoner!) in an always dark(!) apartment, infamously huffs gas out of a mask in a 'snuffling' fashion, gets horri-comically horny, stuffs his mouth with her plush blue velvet robe, which he parts like curtains before calling her "mommy" (regarding which, recall that Robert asks Sansa "Are you my mother now?" while laying his head between her breasts in AFFC Sansa I) and raping her. Literal curtains are featured prominently in the film as well, including in the singer's dark apartment. See here, and see the wikipedia page devoted to the character: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Booth_(Blue_Velvet).
For what it's worth, I believe GRRM is clearly a giant (har!) Lynch fan and that ASOIAF is stuffed full of Lynch references. A book about Lynch [is visible] on a shelf in the background of a GRRM video interview. It's no surprise: Lynch directed Dune, and Twin Peaks revolutionized television when GRRM was writing TV. I actually have a huge essay written up about the what I see as the massive influence of Twin Peaks on ASOIAF. Apropos of the topic at hand, I'll just note that the Eyrie is full of "winches", and that GRRM gives us a Lord "Wynch" — it rhymes with Lynch — who is the first supporter of the BOB-like villain Euron and whose first name just so happens to be Waldon, a la Waldo, the bird that plays a key role in Twin Peaks.
Anyway, the point here, again, is simply that blue velvet curtains remind us of some of the most famous "snuffling" in the history of cinema, and thus further hint that Sweetrobin is, indeed, a figurative 'giant'.
End Footnote
By the way, Robert abiding in darkness—
EDIT: If this comes to pass, I do wonder whether the "purple serpents" motif may get another pay-off in the form of a purple ribbon in Sansa's hair, like the (notably velvet!) ribbon she tries on as Alayne here:
(Notice that the circling hawk recalls the falcons of the Vale, while "Reeds" recalls Howland Reed, who I believe attends the "feast" in TWOW Alayne I in the guise of Ser Shadrich of the Shady Glen.)
END EDIT
Could the prophecy (also?) be about Littlefinger? About an Umber? Sure. But to dismiss the castle in the snow incident as if Robert's doll is the only figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow" there is to dismiss a straw man. (See what I did there?)
submitted by M_Tootles to asoiaf [link] [comments]
Earlier this week on the ASOIAF subreddit, FROTHYxCOFFEE asked about the identity of the "giant" in the Ghost of High Heart's seemingly prophetic vision in ASOS Arya VIII:
"I dreamt a wolf howling in the rain, but no one heard his grief," the dwarf woman was saying. "I dreamt such a clangor I thought my head might burst, drums and horns and pipes and screams, but the saddest sound was the little bells. I dreamt of a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs. And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow."The indefatigable BaelBard responded by providing what they called "the popular belief" (which was indeed proved "popular" when their summary comment got 300+ upvotes): that although the prophecy is apparently fulfilled by Sansa tearing the head off Sweetrobin's doll after he uses it to smash her snow castle Winterfell, thus figuratively "slaying" a figurative "giant"—
"Winterfell is the seat of House Stark," Sansa told her husband-to-be. "The great castle of the north."—this interpretation is "a red herring". The (demonstrably) "popular belief" is that because this is a minor, irrelevant event compared to the Ghost of High Heart's other prophecies, surely there must be a bigger pay-off.
"It's not so great." The boy knelt before the gatehouse. "Look, here comes a giant to knock it down." He stood his doll in the snow and moved it jerkily. "Tromp tromp I'm a giant, I'm a giant," he chanted. "Ho ho ho, open your gates or I'll mash them and smash them." Swinging the doll by the legs, he knocked the top off one gatehouse tower and then the other.
It was more than Sansa could stand. "Robert, stop that." Instead he swung the doll again, and a foot of wall exploded. She grabbed for his hand but she caught the doll instead. There was a loud ripping sound as the thin cloth tore. Suddenly she had the doll's head, Robert had the legs and body, and the rag-and-sawdust stuffing was spilling in the snow. (ASOS Sansa VII)
That bigger pay-off, it's popularly believed, is that the "savage giant" Sansa will slay is Littlefinger, where Petyr 'is' the giant since his grandfather's sigil was "a grey stone head with fiery eyes" representing the Titan of Braavos — a kind of giant (the rationale goes):
The device painted on the shield was one Sansa did not know; a grey stone head with fiery eyes, upon a light green field. "My grandfather's shield," Petyr explained when he saw her gazing at it. "His own father was born in Braavos and came to the Vale as a sellsword in the hire of Lord Corbray, so my grandfather took the head of the Titan as his sigil when he was knighted."It's generally theorized that this will take place in Winterfell, since Sansa's snow castle is meant to be Winterfell, although some say it will happen in the Eyrie, which Sansa calls "a castle made of snow":
"It's very fierce," said Sansa.
"Rather too fierce, for an amiable fellow like me," said Petyr. "I much prefer my mockingbird." (ASOS Sansa VI)
The Eyrie shrank above them. … A honeycomb made of ice, Alayne thought, a castle made of snow. (AFFC Alayne II)I know many people believe Littlefinger will surely "get his" at Sansa's hands, and in saying what I'm going to say, I am not saying he necessarily won't. Prophecies can have multiple payoffs.
Nonetheless, I have to point out that when the "popular belief" focuses on and (probably rightly) dismisses the idea that Sansa tearing the doll's head off in the snow castle Winterfell could be Sansa "slaying the savage giant in a castle built of snow", it overlooks a more subtle reading of the doll-and-snow castle incident per which it is part of a far more significant pay-off for the Ghost of High Heart's prophecy.
"I'm a giant, I'm a giant"
I submit that if the Ghost of High Heart's vision of a maid "slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow" is indeed about the doll-and-snow-castle incident in the Eyrie, it surely isn't about Sansa figuratively "slaying" Sweetrobin's doll by ripping its head off, as most seem to assume when dismissing this as the possible 'pay-off', but rather about Sansa "slaying" Sweetrobin himself, because Sweetrobin is, in that very moment, 'coded' as a figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow".- How is Sweetrobin himself "a savage giant in a castle built of snow"?
"Tromp tromp I'm a giant, I'm a giant," [Sweetrobin] chanted. "Ho ho ho, open your gates or I'll mash them and smash them."—and actions:
Lord Robert's mouth trembled. "You killlllllllled him," he wailed. Then he began to shake. It started with no more than a little shivering, but within a few short heartbeats he had collapsed across the castle, his limbs flailing about violently.Thus the doll-and-snow-castle incident establishes Lord Robert as a figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow", not just because he declares "I'm a giant, I'm a giant," but because he 'is' a giant relative to the size of the "castle built of snow" he is physically "in" when he "collapsed across" it — i.e. he 'is' a giant in the exact same way his doll 'is' a giant, per the popular interpretation of these events that is generally at once accepted as 'correct' (in that it's intended) but dismissed as a sneaky red herring.
Thus the Ghost's prophecy may well be about Sansa killing Sweetrobin by (accidentally) poisoning him with sweetsleep ("the gentlest of poisons") to keep him calm during a feast, in keeping with the prophecy's referring to Sansa when she's "slaying a savage giant" as "that maid again", which points back to how she's first described, as a venomous "maid at a feast":
"I dreamt of a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs. And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow."Note that it is apt indeed that when Lord Robert is established as a figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow", he is having a shaking fit, given that it would be the need to quiet such a shaking fit that would lead Sansa to (inadvertently, presumably) "slay" him.
Slaying By Poison At A Feast
The foreshadowing for Sansa poisoning and thereby slaying the boy who was for a moment "a savage giant in a castle built of snow" is all there, and rather blatant:"Perhaps a pinch of sweetsleep in his milk, have you tried that? Just a pinch, to calm him and stop his wretched shaking."It's unclear whether that feast ever happens, as they don't reach the Gates of the Moon until most are asleep. But Sweetrobin definitely attends a(nother) verbatim "feast" at which, Sansa presumes, he is dosed with more sweetsleep:
"A pinch?" The apple in the maester's throat moved up and down as he swallowed. "One small pinch . . . perhaps, perhaps. Not too much, and not too often, yes, I might try . . ."
"A pinch," Lord Petyr said, "before you bring him forth to meet the lords." (AFFC Alayne I)
[T]he burden of getting Sweetrobin safely down the mountain fell on her. "Give his lordship a cup of sweetmilk," [Sansa] told the maester. "That will stop him from shaking on the journey down."
"He had a cup not three days past," Colemon objected.
"And wanted another last night, which you refused him."
"It was too soon. My lady, you do not understand. As I've told the Lord Protector, a pinch of sweetsleep will prevent the shaking, but it does not leave the flesh, and in time . . ."
"Time will not matter if his lordship has a shaking fit and falls off the mountain. If my father were here, I know he would tell you to keep Lord Robert calm at all costs."
"I try, my lady, yet his fits grow ever more violent, and his blood is so thin I dare not leech him any more. Sweetsleep . . . you are certain he was not bleeding from the nose?"
"He was sniffling," Alayne admitted, "but I saw no blood."
"I must speak to the Lord Protector. This feast … is that wise, I wonder, after the strain of the descent?"
"It will not be a large feast," she assured him. "No more than forty guests. Lord Nestor and his household, the Knight of the Gate, a few lesser lords and their retainers …"
"Lord Robert mislikes strangers, you know that, and there will be drinking, noise … music. Music frightens him."
"Music soothes him," she corrected, "the high harp especially. It's singing he can’t abide, since Marillion killed his mother." Alayne had told the lie so many times that she remembered it that way more oft than not; the other seemed no more than a bad dream that sometimes troubled her sleep. "Lord Nestor will have no singers at the feast, only flutes and fiddles for the dancing." What would she do when the music began to play? It was a vexing question, to which her heart and head gave different answers. Sansa loved to dance, but Alayne . . . "Just give him a cup of the sweetmilk before we go, and another at the feast, and there should be no trouble." (AFFC Alayne II)
As they waited for the music to resume, Alayne glanced at the dais, where Lord Robert sat staring at them. Please, she prayed, don't let him start to twitch and shake. Not here. Not now. Maester Coleman would have made certain that he drank a strong dose of sweetmilk before the feast, but even so. (TWOW Alayne I)We have not yet seen the end of that feast, but assuming Robert survives, there are sure to be more feasts soon. After all, that's just the welcome feast for the tourney. Doubtless there will be more feasting, and something tells me Sweetrobin and his sweet-tooth for sweetmilk—
"He had a cup not three days past," Colemon objected.—won't make it:
"And wanted another last night, which you refused him." (AFFC Alayne II)
No matter what you offered him, Robert always wanted more. (AFFC Alayne II)
"If Robert were to die . . ."
Petyr arched an eyebrow. "When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. (AFFC Alayne II)
What About Littlefinger?
Some may think this sounds plausible enough, but that surely the Ghost's vision has to be about Littlefinger, given that his sigil is 'really' the Titan of Braavos.I see two potential problems with this reading. They're not necessarily fatal, but they're not nothing. Certainly they're enough to consider that the doll-and-snow-castle incident may be at the core of this, after all, albeit not in the consequence-free way so easily and popularly dismissed.
Problem 1: Petyr Baelish 'Is' A Mockingbird, Not The Titan of Braavos
First, Petyr's grandfather's/father's sigil simply isn't his sigil. It's hanging up on the wall in a tower that seems more his father's than his own (consider the age of the servants) and he explicitly disavows it, calling it "my grandfather's shield" and saying the sigil is…"Rather too fierce for an amiable fellow like me. … I much prefer my mockingbird."People in Westeros might 'be' their sigils—
"You Westerosi are all the same. You sew some beast upon a scrap of silk, and suddenly you are all lions or dragons or eagles." (ADWD Tyrion I)—but Petyr Baelish's sigil simply isn't a representation of the Titan of Braavos: It's a mockingbird. Making him if anything a figurative mockingbird.
(Petyr's disavowals of his paternal lineage dovetails with Petyr arguably seeming to care more about his mother than his father. [He names "Alayne" after his mother, but says nothing much about his father save to mock him for bringing Petyr to a hermit to have him tell his future when he was a boy.] Full disclosure: I happen to think Petyr's mother's lineage is very, very, very significant, so the idea that he cares about his maternal bloodline than his father's dovetails with my preconceived notions. But nevertheless.)
Problem 2: The Titan Is Not A "Savage Giant"
Second, the Titan of Braavos isn't "a savage giant". Indeed, it's neither "savage" nor a "giant".It's not a "giant" because giants aren't titans. And not just because are titans and giants are totally different things in classical (Greek) mythology. The bigger problem is that titans and giants are cleary wildly different things diegetically (i.e. in-world).
A titan, in the world of ASOIAF, truly is a giant man:
The whole city is built in a lagoon on a hundred little islands, and they have a titan there, a stone man hundreds of feet high. (AFFC Samwell II)A giant, in the world of ASOIAF (as contrasted to the "giants" of Old Nan's stories), is something else entirely:
In Old Nan's stories, giants were outsized men who lived in colossal castles, fought with huge swords, and walked about in boots a boy could hide in. These were something else, more bearlike than human, and as wooly as the mammoths they rode. Seated, it was hard to say how big they truly were. Ten feet tall maybe, or twelve, Jon thought. Maybe fourteen, but no taller. Their sloping chests might have passed for those of men, but their arms hung down too far, and their lower torsos looked half again as wide as their upper. Their legs were shorter than their arms, but very thick, and they wore no boots at all; their feet were broad splayed things, hard and horny and black. Neckless, their huge heavy heads thrust forward from between their shoulder blades, and their faces were squashed and brutal. Rats' eyes no larger than beads were almost lost within folds of horny flesh, but they snuffled constantly, smelling as much as they saw. (ASOS Jon II)Indeed, while Old Nan's stories get this wrong, there seem to be stories told to children that understand this, judging by Shireen's reaction to Wun Wun:
Princess Shireen's eyes went wide as dinner plates. "He's a giant! A real true giant, like from the stories. But why does he talk so funny?" (ADWD Jon IX)(Perhaps Shireen heard her stories from Cressen.)
It's true that in Old Nan's stories — whose version of a giant is totally debunked by reality, remember — the Titan of Braavos is a verbatim "giant" in that same "giant man" sense:
The Titan of Braavos. Old Nan had told them stories of the Titan back in Winterfell. He was a giant as tall as a mountain, and whenever Braavos stood in danger he would wake with fire in his eyes, his rocky limbs grinding and groaning as he waded out into the sea to smash the enemies.And that much, at least, fits with the Titan of Braavos as he actually appears.
However, where the Titan of Braavos of Old Nan's fiction is clearly savage, per se, like the "savage giant" in the Ghost of High Heart's vision—
"The Braavosi feed him on the juicy pink flesh of little highborn girls," Nan would end, and Sansa would give a stupid squeak. (AFFC Arya I)—the idea that the Titan of Braavos is truly a "savage giant" is once again not born out by the reality of an inert statue (even if you accept that the Titan 'is' a "giant" of sorts, even if only in a figurative sense). Maester Luwin was right, at least as regards giants and titans:
But Maester Luwin said the Titan was only a statue, and Old Nan's stories were only stories.Indeed, given the banking industry, commercial orientation, and anti-slavery policies of Braavos, the Titan of Braavos is more like a sign of civilization than savagery by Planetosi standards: a kind of Colossus of Rhodes. Even its green hair, which might say "Incredible Hulk" to us, hardly has "savage" connotations on Planetos, where the brother of the Archon of Tyrosh has a green beard.
In sum: People might 'be' their sigils, but (a) Littlefinger 'isn't' the Titan of Braavos, and (b) even if he were, the Titan of Braavos isn't properly "a savage giant" unless you squint.
That said, make no mistake: you always have to squint a bit when it comes to prophecy, and I am thus in no way saying that Littlefinger is deductively ruled out as the referent of the Ghost's prophecy. I'm just saying there are good reasons to think he might not be.
More On Sweetrobin The "Savage Giant", Featuring A Reference To David Lynch's Blue Velvet That Supports This Reading
I want to close by drawing attention to a few more things that put the whiff of "savage giant" on and around Sweetrobin.First, there's the simple fact that Robert lives in a castle in the clouds—
Seven towers, Ned had told her, like white daggers thrust into the belly of the sky, so high you can stand on the parapets and look down on the clouds. (AGOT Cateyn VI)—reached by a perilous climb, which clearly recalls the castle in the clouds in which the giant abides in Jack and the Beanstalk.
Indeed, that climb is also giant-coded, in its way:
"Sweetrobin," she said gently, "the descent will be ever so jolly, you'll see."Jolly, a la the [Jolly Green Giant].
Second, as Lord of the Vale and the Eyrie, Robert has dominion over the Giant's Lance (the mountain the Eyrie is built on), which can be seen as 'coding' him as "the Giant" in question.
Third, recall that young Lord Robert throws his chamber pot at Maester Colemon and shatters it (which is hardly a civilized thing to do, and arguably savage). In so doing, he creates a scene that recalls another scene caused by a (different) figurative 'savage giant': Shagga is a verbatim "savage" and a figurative 'giant' — he is "massive" per AGOT Tyrion VI, and his "hand was so big he could have crushed the maester's skull like an eggshell had he squeezed" per ACOK Tyrion VI — and he smashes in Maester Pycelle's door and causes him to piss everywhere:
Roaring, Shagga leapt forward. Pycelle shrieked and wet the bed, urine spraying in all directions as he tried to scramble back out of reach. (ibid.)Setting aside the 'rhyme' Sweetrobin throwing his chamber pot sets up between himself and Shagga the savage giant (thereby suggesting that Sweetrobin, too, is a figurative savage giant), consider the language from the aftermath of Sweetrobin chucking his chamber pot:
"Might I let some sun in?"The noted verbiage 'just so happens' to be tightly reminiscent of what we're told about true giants, their squinty rat eyes, and their "smelling as much as they saw":
"No. The light hurts my eyes. Come to bed, Alayne."
She went to the windows anyway, edging around the broken chamber pot. She could smell it better than she saw it. (AFFC Alayne II)
Rats' eyes no larger than beads were almost lost within folds of horny flesh, but they snuffled constantly, smelling as much as they saw. (ASOS Jon II)Note the sympatico double entendre wordplay as well: Robert saying "Come to bed, Alayne" vs. the "horny flesh" of the giants.
And note that true giants "snuffled constantly". Who does that sound like if not Sweetrobin?
Alayne slipped into the darkened bedchamber. "It's only me, Sweetrobin."
Someone sniffled in the darkness. "Are you alone?" (Alayne II)
She went to the windows anyway, edging around the broken chamber pot. She could smell it better than she saw it. "I shan't open them very wide. Only enough to see my Sweetrobin's face."
He sniffled. "If you must."
The curtains were of plush blue velvet¹.
"I don't love her. She's just the mule girl." Robert sniffled. (AFFC Alayne II)
"He was sniffling," Alayne admitted, "but I saw no blood." (AFFC Alayne II)
For what it's worth, I believe GRRM is clearly a giant (har!) Lynch fan and that ASOIAF is stuffed full of Lynch references. A book about Lynch [is visible] on a shelf in the background of a GRRM video interview. It's no surprise: Lynch directed Dune, and Twin Peaks revolutionized television when GRRM was writing TV. I actually have a huge essay written up about the what I see as the massive influence of Twin Peaks on ASOIAF. Apropos of the topic at hand, I'll just note that the Eyrie is full of "winches", and that GRRM gives us a Lord "Wynch" — it rhymes with Lynch — who is the first supporter of the BOB-like villain Euron and whose first name just so happens to be Waldon, a la Waldo, the bird that plays a key role in Twin Peaks.
Anyway, the point here, again, is simply that blue velvet curtains remind us of some of the most famous "snuffling" in the history of cinema, and thus further hint that Sweetrobin is, indeed, a figurative 'giant'.
End Footnote
Alayne slipped into the darkened bedchamber. "It's only me, Sweetrobin."—sets him up as akin to Old Nan's version of giants as they appear in a story—
Someone sniffled in the darkness. "Are you alone?" (Alayne II)
[Arya] remembered a story Old Nan had told once, about a man imprisoned in a dark castle by evil giants. He was very brave and smart and he tricked the giants and escaped . . . but no sooner was he outside the castle than the Others took him, and drank his hot red blood. (ACOK Arya III)—that sounds like one of the stories Sweetrobin asks Alayne to read to him moments after she enters his "darkened bedchamber":
"I don't want food," the little lord said, in a reedy, petulant voice. "I'm going to stay in bed today. You could read to me if you want."Finally, as many have noticed, Robert's preference for the darkness, his pale skin, his red eyes, and his belief that he still hears Marillion singing—
"It is too dark in here for reading." The heavy curtains drawn across the windows made the bedchamber black as night. (AFFC Alayne II)
"I want to go back to bed. I never slept last night. I heard singing. Maester Colemon gave me dreamwine but I could still hear it."—suggest he is is "gifted" in a weirwood-net-adjacent way similar to Jojen, Bran, and/or Bloodraven. Thus to a fellow clairvoyant like the Ghost of High Heart, he may truly seem like a 'giant' indeed.
Alayne put down her spoon. "If there had been singing, I should have heard it too. You had a bad dream, that's all."
"No, it wasn't a dream." Tears filled his eyes. "Marillion was singing again. Your father says he's dead, but he isn't." (AFFC Alayne I)
Summary/TL;DR
So that's it. If the Ghost of High Heart's vision of "that maid again" — "a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs" — "slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow" is related to the doll-and-snow-castle incident, it's surely not merely about Sansa figuratively slaying Sweetrobin's doll, but about Sansa slaying Sweetrobin himself, who is 'coded' as a figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow" during that incident—"Tromp tromp I'm a giant, I'm a giant," he chanted. "Ho ho ho, open your gates or I'll mash them and smash them."—and who is primed to die of an overdose of sweetsleep, a "poison" which would be consistent with the venomous imagery with which the Ghost's prophecy depicts Sansa.
It started with no more than a little shivering, but within a few short heartbeats [Sweetrobin] had collapsed across the castle [built of snow], his limbs flailing about violently.
EDIT: If this comes to pass, I do wonder whether the "purple serpents" motif may get another pay-off in the form of a purple ribbon in Sansa's hair, like the (notably velvet!) ribbon she tries on as Alayne here:
In the end she chose a simple velvet ribbon in autumn gold. When Gretchel fetched her Lysa's silvered looking glass, the color seemed just perfect with Alayne's mass of dark brown hair. (AFFC Alayne I)It's worth noting that in the opening line of ACOK Ayra IV, we see a specifically colored "ribbon" deployed as a metaphor for a thing associated with snakes:
The river was a blue-green ribbon shining in the morning sun. Reeds grew thick in the shallows along the banks, and Arya saw a water snake skimming across the surface, ripples spreading out behind it as it went. Overhead a hawk flew in lazy circles.If a river with a snake in it can figurative 'be' a specifically colored ribbon, couldn't the "purple serpents" in the maid's hair in the prophecy be a figurative stand-in for a literal ribbon Sansa wears to a feast at which Robert dies from sweetsleep she gives him (in addition to foreshadowing the purple wedding)? Indeed, a similar conflation is at the heart of one of the most famous murder mysteries in literature: The Speckled Band.
(Notice that the circling hawk recalls the falcons of the Vale, while "Reeds" recalls Howland Reed, who I believe attends the "feast" in TWOW Alayne I in the guise of Ser Shadrich of the Shady Glen.)
END EDIT
Could the prophecy (also?) be about Littlefinger? About an Umber? Sure. But to dismiss the castle in the snow incident as if Robert's doll is the only figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow" there is to dismiss a straw man. (See what I did there?)
2023.05.26 18:45 M_Tootles Sweetrobin's Doll Isn't the Only "Giant" In The Snow Castle (Spoilers TWOW)
(TL;DR in the conclusion at the bottom. But David Lynch fans will miss the Blue Velvet clue if they do that.)
Earlier this week on the ASOIAF subreddit, FROTHYxCOFFEE asked about the identity of the "giant" in the Ghost of High Heart's seemingly prophetic vision in ASOS Arya VIII:
That bigger pay-off, it's popularly believed, is that the "savage giant" Sansa will slay is Littlefinger, where Petyr 'is' the giant since his grandfather's sigil was "a grey stone head with fiery eyes" representing the Titan of Braavos — a kind of giant (the rationale goes):
Nonetheless, I have to point out that when the "popular belief" focuses on and (probably rightly) dismisses the idea that Sansa tearing the doll's head off in the snow castle Winterfell could be Sansa "slaying the savage giant in a castle built of snow", it overlooks a more subtle reading of the doll-and-snow castle incident per which it is part of a far more significant pay-off for the Ghost of High Heart's prophecy.
Thus the Ghost's prophecy may well be about Sansa killing Sweetrobin by (accidentally) poisoning him with sweetsleep ("the gentlest of poisons") to keep him calm during a feast, in keeping with the prophecy's referring to Sansa when she's "slaying a savage giant" as "that maid again", which points back to how she's first described, as a venomous "maid at a feast":
I see two potential problems with this reading. They're not necessarily fatal, but they're not nothing. Certainly they're enough to consider that the doll-and-snow-castle incident may be at the core of this, after all, albeit not in the consequence-free way so easily and popularly dismissed.
(Petyr's disavowals of his paternal lineage dovetails with Petyr arguably seeming to care more about his mother than his father. [He names "Alayne" after his mother, but says nothing much about his father save to mock him for bringing Petyr to a hermit to have him tell his future when he was a boy.] Full disclosure: I happen to think Petyr's mother's lineage is very, very, very significant, so the idea that he cares about his maternal bloodline than his father's dovetails with my preconceived notions. But nevertheless.)
It's not a "giant" because giants aren't titans. And not just because are titans and giants are totally different things in classical (Greek) mythology. The bigger problem is that titans and giants are cleary wildly different things diegetically (i.e. in-world).
A titan, in the world of ASOIAF, truly is a giant man:
It's true that in Old Nan's stories — whose version of a giant is totally debunked by reality, remember — the Titan of Braavos is a verbatim "giant" in that same "giant man" sense:
However, where the Titan of Braavos of Old Nan's fiction is clearly savage, per se, like the "savage giant" in the Ghost of High Heart's vision—
In sum: People might 'be' their sigils, but (a) Littlefinger 'isn't' the Titan of Braavos, and (b) even if he were, the Titan of Braavos isn't properly "a savage giant" unless you squint.
That said, make no mistake: you always have to squint a bit when it comes to prophecy, and I am thus in no way saying that Littlefinger is deductively ruled out as the referent of the Ghost's prophecy. I'm just saying there are good reasons to think he might not be.
First, there's the simple fact that Robert lives in a castle in the clouds—
Indeed, that climb is also giant-coded, in its way:
Second, as Lord of the Vale and the Eyrie, Robert has dominion over the Giant's Lance (the mountain the Eyrie is built on), which can be seen as 'coding' him as "the Giant" in question.
Third, recall that young Lord Robert throws his chamber pot at Maester Colemon and shatters it (which is hardly a civilized thing to do, and arguably savage). In so doing, he creates a scene that recalls another scene caused by a (different) figurative 'savage giant': Shagga is a verbatim "savage" and a figurative 'giant' — he is "massive" per AGOT Tyrion VI, and his "hand was so big he could have crushed the maester's skull like an eggshell had he squeezed" per ACOK Tyrion VI — and he smashes in Maester Pycelle's door and causes him to piss everywhere:
And note that true giants "snuffled constantly". Who does that sound like if not Sweetrobin?
Note 1: Those "plush blue velvet" curtains — combined with Sweetrobin's latent 'horniness' for "Alayne" — should jump off the page as a further reference to giant-like "snuffling" to anyone who's seen David Lynch's 1986 masterpiece Blue Velvet, a film in which the main villain Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) keeps a singer prisoner (a la Petyr holding Marillion prisoner!) in an always dark(!) apartment, infamously huffs gas out of a mask in a 'snuffling' fashion, gets horri-comically horny, stuffs his mouth with her plush blue velvet robe, which he parts like curtains before calling her "mommy" (regarding which, recall that Robert asks Sansa "Are you my mother now?" while laying his head between her breasts in AFFC Sansa I) and raping her. Literal curtains are featured prominently in the film as well, including in the singer's dark apartment. See here, and see the wikipedia page devoted to the character: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Booth_(Blue_Velvet).
For what it's worth, I believe GRRM is clearly a giant (har!) Lynch fan and that ASOIAF is stuffed full of Lynch references. A book about Lynch [is visible] on a shelf in the background of a GRRM video interview. It's no surprise: Lynch directed Dune, and Twin Peaks revolutionized television when GRRM was writing TV. I actually have a huge essay written up about the what I see as the massive influence of Twin Peaks on ASOIAF. Apropos of the topic at hand, I'll just note that the Eyrie is full of "winches", and that GRRM gives us a Lord "Wynch" — it rhymes with Lynch — who is the first supporter of the BOB-like villain Euron and whose first name just so happens to be Waldon, a la Waldo, the bird that plays a key role in Twin Peaks.
Anyway, the point here, again, is simply that blue velvet curtains remind us of some of the most famous "snuffling" in the history of cinema, and thus further hint that Sweetrobin is, indeed, a figurative 'giant'.
End Footnote
By the way, Robert abiding in darkness—
EDIT: If this comes to pass, I do wonder whether the "purple serpents" motif may get another pay-off in the form of a purple ribbon in Sansa's hair, like the (notably velvet!) ribbon she tries on as Alayne here:
(Notice that the circling hawk recalls the falcons of the Vale, while "Reeds" recalls Howland Reed, who I believe attends the "feast" in TWOW Alayne I in the guise of Ser Shadrich of the Shady Glen.)
END EDIT
Could the prophecy (also?) be about Littlefinger? About an Umber? Sure. But to dismiss the castle in the snow incident as if Robert's doll is the only figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow" there is to dismiss a straw man. (See what I did there?)
submitted by M_Tootles to pureasoiaf [link] [comments]
Earlier this week on the ASOIAF subreddit, FROTHYxCOFFEE asked about the identity of the "giant" in the Ghost of High Heart's seemingly prophetic vision in ASOS Arya VIII:
"I dreamt a wolf howling in the rain, but no one heard his grief," the dwarf woman was saying. "I dreamt such a clangor I thought my head might burst, drums and horns and pipes and screams, but the saddest sound was the little bells. I dreamt of a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs. And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow."The indefatigable BaelBard responded by providing what they called "the popular belief" (which was indeed proved "popular" when their summary comment got 300+ upvotes): that although the prophecy is apparently fulfilled by Sansa tearing the head off Sweetrobin's doll after he uses it to smash her snow castle Winterfell, thus figuratively "slaying" a figurative "giant"—
"Winterfell is the seat of House Stark," Sansa told her husband-to-be. "The great castle of the north."—this interpretation is "a red herring". The (demonstrably) "popular belief" is that because this is a minor, irrelevant event compared to the Ghost of High Heart's other prophecies, surely there must be a bigger pay-off.
"It's not so great." The boy knelt before the gatehouse. "Look, here comes a giant to knock it down." He stood his doll in the snow and moved it jerkily. "Tromp tromp I'm a giant, I'm a giant," he chanted. "Ho ho ho, open your gates or I'll mash them and smash them." Swinging the doll by the legs, he knocked the top off one gatehouse tower and then the other.
It was more than Sansa could stand. "Robert, stop that." Instead he swung the doll again, and a foot of wall exploded. She grabbed for his hand but she caught the doll instead. There was a loud ripping sound as the thin cloth tore. Suddenly she had the doll's head, Robert had the legs and body, and the rag-and-sawdust stuffing was spilling in the snow. (ASOS Sansa VII)
That bigger pay-off, it's popularly believed, is that the "savage giant" Sansa will slay is Littlefinger, where Petyr 'is' the giant since his grandfather's sigil was "a grey stone head with fiery eyes" representing the Titan of Braavos — a kind of giant (the rationale goes):
The device painted on the shield was one Sansa did not know; a grey stone head with fiery eyes, upon a light green field. "My grandfather's shield," Petyr explained when he saw her gazing at it. "His own father was born in Braavos and came to the Vale as a sellsword in the hire of Lord Corbray, so my grandfather took the head of the Titan as his sigil when he was knighted."It's generally theorized that this will take place in Winterfell, since Sansa's snow castle is meant to be Winterfell, although some say it will happen in the Eyrie, which Sansa calls "a castle made of snow":
"It's very fierce," said Sansa.
"Rather too fierce, for an amiable fellow like me," said Petyr. "I much prefer my mockingbird." (ASOS Sansa VI)
The Eyrie shrank above them. … A honeycomb made of ice, Alayne thought, a castle made of snow. (AFFC Alayne II)I know many people believe Littlefinger will surely "get his" at Sansa's hands, and in saying what I'm going to say, I am not saying he necessarily won't. Prophecies can have multiple payoffs.
Nonetheless, I have to point out that when the "popular belief" focuses on and (probably rightly) dismisses the idea that Sansa tearing the doll's head off in the snow castle Winterfell could be Sansa "slaying the savage giant in a castle built of snow", it overlooks a more subtle reading of the doll-and-snow castle incident per which it is part of a far more significant pay-off for the Ghost of High Heart's prophecy.
"I'm a giant, I'm a giant"
I submit that if the Ghost of High Heart's vision of a maid "slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow" is indeed about the doll-and-snow-castle incident in the Eyrie, it surely isn't about Sansa figuratively "slaying" Sweetrobin's doll by ripping its head off, as most seem to assume when dismissing this as the possible 'pay-off', but rather about Sansa "slaying" Sweetrobin himself, because Sweetrobin is, in that very moment, 'coded' as a figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow".- How is Sweetrobin himself "a savage giant in a castle built of snow"?
"Tromp tromp I'm a giant, I'm a giant," [Sweetrobin] chanted. "Ho ho ho, open your gates or I'll mash them and smash them."—and actions:
Lord Robert's mouth trembled. "You killlllllllled him," he wailed. Then he began to shake. It started with no more than a little shivering, but within a few short heartbeats he had collapsed across the castle, his limbs flailing about violently.Thus the doll-and-snow-castle incident establishes Lord Robert as a figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow", not just because he declares "I'm a giant, I'm a giant," but because he 'is' a giant relative to the size of the "castle built of snow" he is physically "in" when he "collapsed across" it — i.e. he 'is' a giant in the exact same way his doll 'is' a giant, per the popular interpretation of these events that is generally at once accepted as 'correct' (in that it's intended) but dismissed as a sneaky red herring.
Thus the Ghost's prophecy may well be about Sansa killing Sweetrobin by (accidentally) poisoning him with sweetsleep ("the gentlest of poisons") to keep him calm during a feast, in keeping with the prophecy's referring to Sansa when she's "slaying a savage giant" as "that maid again", which points back to how she's first described, as a venomous "maid at a feast":
"I dreamt of a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs. And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow."Note that it is apt indeed that when Lord Robert is established as a figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow", he is having a shaking fit, given that it would be the need to quiet such a shaking fit that would lead Sansa to (inadvertently, presumably) "slay" him.
Slaying By Poison At A Feast
The foreshadowing for Sansa poisoning and thereby slaying the boy who was for a moment "a savage giant in a castle built of snow" is all there, and rather blatant:"Perhaps a pinch of sweetsleep in his milk, have you tried that? Just a pinch, to calm him and stop his wretched shaking."It's unclear whether that feast ever happens, as they don't reach the Gates of the Moon until most are asleep. But Sweetrobin definitely attends a(nother) verbatim "feast" at which, Sansa presumes, he is dosed with more sweetsleep:
"A pinch?" The apple in the maester's throat moved up and down as he swallowed. "One small pinch . . . perhaps, perhaps. Not too much, and not too often, yes, I might try . . ."
"A pinch," Lord Petyr said, "before you bring him forth to meet the lords." (AFFC Alayne I)
[T]he burden of getting Sweetrobin safely down the mountain fell on her. "Give his lordship a cup of sweetmilk," [Sansa] told the maester. "That will stop him from shaking on the journey down."
"He had a cup not three days past," Colemon objected.
"And wanted another last night, which you refused him."
"It was too soon. My lady, you do not understand. As I've told the Lord Protector, a pinch of sweetsleep will prevent the shaking, but it does not leave the flesh, and in time . . ."
"Time will not matter if his lordship has a shaking fit and falls off the mountain. If my father were here, I know he would tell you to keep Lord Robert calm at all costs."
"I try, my lady, yet his fits grow ever more violent, and his blood is so thin I dare not leech him any more. Sweetsleep . . . you are certain he was not bleeding from the nose?"
"He was sniffling," Alayne admitted, "but I saw no blood."
"I must speak to the Lord Protector. This feast … is that wise, I wonder, after the strain of the descent?"
"It will not be a large feast," she assured him. "No more than forty guests. Lord Nestor and his household, the Knight of the Gate, a few lesser lords and their retainers …"
"Lord Robert mislikes strangers, you know that, and there will be drinking, noise … music. Music frightens him."
"Music soothes him," she corrected, "the high harp especially. It's singing he can’t abide, since Marillion killed his mother." Alayne had told the lie so many times that she remembered it that way more oft than not; the other seemed no more than a bad dream that sometimes troubled her sleep. "Lord Nestor will have no singers at the feast, only flutes and fiddles for the dancing." What would she do when the music began to play? It was a vexing question, to which her heart and head gave different answers. Sansa loved to dance, but Alayne . . . "Just give him a cup of the sweetmilk before we go, and another at the feast, and there should be no trouble." (AFFC Alayne II)
As they waited for the music to resume, Alayne glanced at the dais, where Lord Robert sat staring at them. Please, she prayed, don't let him start to twitch and shake. Not here. Not now. Maester Coleman would have made certain that he drank a strong dose of sweetmilk before the feast, but even so. (TWOW Alayne I)We have not yet seen the end of that feast, but assuming Robert survives, there are sure to be more feasts soon. After all, that's just the welcome feast for the tourney. Doubtless there will be more feasting, and something tells me Sweetrobin and his sweet-tooth for sweetmilk—
"He had a cup not three days past," Colemon objected.—won't make it:
"And wanted another last night, which you refused him." (AFFC Alayne II)
No matter what you offered him, Robert always wanted more. (AFFC Alayne II)
"If Robert were to die . . ."
Petyr arched an eyebrow. "When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. (AFFC Alayne II)
What About Littlefinger?
Some may think this sounds plausible enough, but that surely the Ghost's vision has to be about Littlefinger, given that his sigil is 'really' the Titan of Braavos.I see two potential problems with this reading. They're not necessarily fatal, but they're not nothing. Certainly they're enough to consider that the doll-and-snow-castle incident may be at the core of this, after all, albeit not in the consequence-free way so easily and popularly dismissed.
Problem 1: Petyr Baelish 'Is' A Mockingbird, Not The Titan of Braavos
First, Petyr's grandfather's/father's sigil simply isn't his sigil. It's hanging up on the wall in a tower that seems more his father's than his own (consider the age of the servants) and he explicitly disavows it, calling it "my grandfather's shield" and saying the sigil is…"Rather too fierce for an amiable fellow like me. … I much prefer my mockingbird."People in Westeros might 'be' their sigils—
"You Westerosi are all the same. You sew some beast upon a scrap of silk, and suddenly you are all lions or dragons or eagles." (ADWD Tyrion I)—but Petyr Baelish's sigil simply isn't a representation of the Titan of Braavos: It's a mockingbird. Making him if anything a figurative mockingbird.
(Petyr's disavowals of his paternal lineage dovetails with Petyr arguably seeming to care more about his mother than his father. [He names "Alayne" after his mother, but says nothing much about his father save to mock him for bringing Petyr to a hermit to have him tell his future when he was a boy.] Full disclosure: I happen to think Petyr's mother's lineage is very, very, very significant, so the idea that he cares about his maternal bloodline than his father's dovetails with my preconceived notions. But nevertheless.)
Problem 2: The Titan Is Not A "Savage Giant"
Second, the Titan of Braavos isn't "a savage giant". Indeed, it's neither "savage" nor a "giant".It's not a "giant" because giants aren't titans. And not just because are titans and giants are totally different things in classical (Greek) mythology. The bigger problem is that titans and giants are cleary wildly different things diegetically (i.e. in-world).
A titan, in the world of ASOIAF, truly is a giant man:
The whole city is built in a lagoon on a hundred little islands, and they have a titan there, a stone man hundreds of feet high. (AFFC Samwell II)A giant, in the world of ASOIAF (as contrasted to the "giants" of Old Nan's stories), is something else entirely:
In Old Nan's stories, giants were outsized men who lived in colossal castles, fought with huge swords, and walked about in boots a boy could hide in. These were something else, more bearlike than human, and as wooly as the mammoths they rode. Seated, it was hard to say how big they truly were. Ten feet tall maybe, or twelve, Jon thought. Maybe fourteen, but no taller. Their sloping chests might have passed for those of men, but their arms hung down too far, and their lower torsos looked half again as wide as their upper. Their legs were shorter than their arms, but very thick, and they wore no boots at all; their feet were broad splayed things, hard and horny and black. Neckless, their huge heavy heads thrust forward from between their shoulder blades, and their faces were squashed and brutal. Rats' eyes no larger than beads were almost lost within folds of horny flesh, but they snuffled constantly, smelling as much as they saw. (ASOS Jon II)Indeed, while Old Nan's stories get this wrong, there seem to be stories told to children that understand this, judging by Shireen's reaction to Wun Wun:
Princess Shireen's eyes went wide as dinner plates. "He's a giant! A real true giant, like from the stories. But why does he talk so funny?" (ADWD Jon IX)(Perhaps Shireen heard her stories from Cressen.)
It's true that in Old Nan's stories — whose version of a giant is totally debunked by reality, remember — the Titan of Braavos is a verbatim "giant" in that same "giant man" sense:
The Titan of Braavos. Old Nan had told them stories of the Titan back in Winterfell. He was a giant as tall as a mountain, and whenever Braavos stood in danger he would wake with fire in his eyes, his rocky limbs grinding and groaning as he waded out into the sea to smash the enemies.And that much, at least, fits with the Titan of Braavos as he actually appears.
However, where the Titan of Braavos of Old Nan's fiction is clearly savage, per se, like the "savage giant" in the Ghost of High Heart's vision—
"The Braavosi feed him on the juicy pink flesh of little highborn girls," Nan would end, and Sansa would give a stupid squeak. (AFFC Arya I)—the idea that the Titan of Braavos is truly a "savage giant" is once again not born out by the reality of an inert statue (even if you accept that the Titan 'is' a "giant" of sorts, even if only in a figurative sense). Maester Luwin was right, at least as regards giants and titans:
But Maester Luwin said the Titan was only a statue, and Old Nan's stories were only stories.Indeed, given the banking industry, commercial orientation, and anti-slavery policies of Braavos, the Titan of Braavos is more like a sign of civilization than savagery by Planetosi standards: a kind of Colossus of Rhodes. Even its green hair, which might say "Incredible Hulk" to us, hardly has "savage" connotations on Planetos, where the brother of the Archon of Tyrosh has a green beard.
In sum: People might 'be' their sigils, but (a) Littlefinger 'isn't' the Titan of Braavos, and (b) even if he were, the Titan of Braavos isn't properly "a savage giant" unless you squint.
That said, make no mistake: you always have to squint a bit when it comes to prophecy, and I am thus in no way saying that Littlefinger is deductively ruled out as the referent of the Ghost's prophecy. I'm just saying there are good reasons to think he might not be.
More On Sweetrobin The "Savage Giant", Featuring A Reference To David Lynch's Blue Velvet That Supports This Reading
I want to close by drawing attention to a few more things that put the whiff of "savage giant" on and around Sweetrobin.First, there's the simple fact that Robert lives in a castle in the clouds—
Seven towers, Ned had told her, like white daggers thrust into the belly of the sky, so high you can stand on the parapets and look down on the clouds. (AGOT Cateyn VI)—reached by a perilous climb, which clearly recalls the castle in the clouds in which the giant abides in Jack and the Beanstalk.
Indeed, that climb is also giant-coded, in its way:
"Sweetrobin," she said gently, "the descent will be ever so jolly, you'll see."Jolly, a la the [Jolly Green Giant].
Second, as Lord of the Vale and the Eyrie, Robert has dominion over the Giant's Lance (the mountain the Eyrie is built on), which can be seen as 'coding' him as "the Giant" in question.
Third, recall that young Lord Robert throws his chamber pot at Maester Colemon and shatters it (which is hardly a civilized thing to do, and arguably savage). In so doing, he creates a scene that recalls another scene caused by a (different) figurative 'savage giant': Shagga is a verbatim "savage" and a figurative 'giant' — he is "massive" per AGOT Tyrion VI, and his "hand was so big he could have crushed the maester's skull like an eggshell had he squeezed" per ACOK Tyrion VI — and he smashes in Maester Pycelle's door and causes him to piss everywhere:
Roaring, Shagga leapt forward. Pycelle shrieked and wet the bed, urine spraying in all directions as he tried to scramble back out of reach. (ibid.)Setting aside the 'rhyme' Sweetrobin throwing his chamber pot sets up between himself and Shagga the savage giant (thereby suggesting that Sweetrobin, too, is a figurative savage giant), consider the language from the aftermath of Sweetrobin chucking his chamber pot:
"Might I let some sun in?"The noted verbiage 'just so happens' to be tightly reminiscent of what we're told about true giants, their squinty rat eyes, and their "smelling as much as they saw":
"No. The light hurts my eyes. Come to bed, Alayne."
She went to the windows anyway, edging around the broken chamber pot. She could smell it better than she saw it. (AFFC Alayne II)
Rats' eyes no larger than beads were almost lost within folds of horny flesh, but they snuffled constantly, smelling as much as they saw. (ASOS Jon II)Note the sympatico double entendre wordplay as well: Robert saying "Come to bed, Alayne" vs. the "horny flesh" of the giants.
And note that true giants "snuffled constantly". Who does that sound like if not Sweetrobin?
Alayne slipped into the darkened bedchamber. "It's only me, Sweetrobin."
Someone sniffled in the darkness. "Are you alone?" (Alayne II)
She went to the windows anyway, edging around the broken chamber pot. She could smell it better than she saw it. "I shan't open them very wide. Only enough to see my Sweetrobin's face."
He sniffled. "If you must."
The curtains were of plush blue velvet¹.
"I don't love her. She's just the mule girl." Robert sniffled. (AFFC Alayne II)
"He was sniffling," Alayne admitted, "but I saw no blood." (AFFC Alayne II)
For what it's worth, I believe GRRM is clearly a giant (har!) Lynch fan and that ASOIAF is stuffed full of Lynch references. A book about Lynch [is visible] on a shelf in the background of a GRRM video interview. It's no surprise: Lynch directed Dune, and Twin Peaks revolutionized television when GRRM was writing TV. I actually have a huge essay written up about the what I see as the massive influence of Twin Peaks on ASOIAF. Apropos of the topic at hand, I'll just note that the Eyrie is full of "winches", and that GRRM gives us a Lord "Wynch" — it rhymes with Lynch — who is the first supporter of the BOB-like villain Euron and whose first name just so happens to be Waldon, a la Waldo, the bird that plays a key role in Twin Peaks.
Anyway, the point here, again, is simply that blue velvet curtains remind us of some of the most famous "snuffling" in the history of cinema, and thus further hint that Sweetrobin is, indeed, a figurative 'giant'.
End Footnote
Alayne slipped into the darkened bedchamber. "It's only me, Sweetrobin."—sets him up as akin to Old Nan's version of giants as they appear in a story—
Someone sniffled in the darkness. "Are you alone?" (Alayne II)
[Arya] remembered a story Old Nan had told once, about a man imprisoned in a dark castle by evil giants. He was very brave and smart and he tricked the giants and escaped . . . but no sooner was he outside the castle than the Others took him, and drank his hot red blood. (ACOK Arya III)—that sounds like one of the stories Sweetrobin asks Alayne to read to him moments after she enters his "darkened bedchamber":
"I don't want food," the little lord said, in a reedy, petulant voice. "I'm going to stay in bed today. You could read to me if you want."Finally, as many have noticed, Robert's preference for the darkness, his pale skin, his red eyes, and his belief that he still hears Marillion singing—
"It is too dark in here for reading." The heavy curtains drawn across the windows made the bedchamber black as night. (AFFC Alayne II)
"I want to go back to bed. I never slept last night. I heard singing. Maester Colemon gave me dreamwine but I could still hear it."—suggest he is is "gifted" in a weirwood-net-adjacent way similar to Jojen, Bran, and/or Bloodraven. Thus to a fellow clairvoyant like the Ghost of High Heart, he may truly seem like a 'giant' indeed.
Alayne put down her spoon. "If there had been singing, I should have heard it too. You had a bad dream, that's all."
"No, it wasn't a dream." Tears filled his eyes. "Marillion was singing again. Your father says he's dead, but he isn't." (AFFC Alayne I)
Summary/TL;DR
So that's it. If the Ghost of High Heart's vision of "that maid again" — "a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs" — "slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow" is related to the doll-and-snow-castle incident, it's surely not merely about Sansa figuratively slaying Sweetrobin's doll, but about Sansa slaying Sweetrobin himself, who is 'coded' as a figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow" during that incident—"Tromp tromp I'm a giant, I'm a giant," he chanted. "Ho ho ho, open your gates or I'll mash them and smash them."—and who is primed to die of an overdose of sweetsleep, a "poison" which would be consistent with the venomous imagery with which the Ghost's prophecy depicts Sansa.
It started with no more than a little shivering, but within a few short heartbeats [Sweetrobin] had collapsed across the castle [built of snow], his limbs flailing about violently.
EDIT: If this comes to pass, I do wonder whether the "purple serpents" motif may get another pay-off in the form of a purple ribbon in Sansa's hair, like the (notably velvet!) ribbon she tries on as Alayne here:
In the end she chose a simple velvet ribbon in autumn gold. When Gretchel fetched her Lysa's silvered looking glass, the color seemed just perfect with Alayne's mass of dark brown hair. (AFFC Alayne I)It's worth noting that in the opening line of ACOK Ayra IV, we see a specifically colored "ribbon" deployed as a metaphor for a thing associated with snakes:
The river was a blue-green ribbon shining in the morning sun. Reeds grew thick in the shallows along the banks, and Arya saw a water snake skimming across the surface, ripples spreading out behind it as it went. Overhead a hawk flew in lazy circles.If a river with a snake in it can figurative 'be' a specifically colored ribbon, couldn't the "purple serpents" in the maid's hair in the prophecy be a figurative stand-in for a literal ribbon Sansa wears to a feast at which Robert dies from sweetsleep she gives him (in addition to foreshadowing the purple wedding)? Indeed, a similar conflation is at the heart of one of the most famous murder mysteries in literature: The Speckled Band.
(Notice that the circling hawk recalls the falcons of the Vale, while "Reeds" recalls Howland Reed, who I believe attends the "feast" in TWOW Alayne I in the guise of Ser Shadrich of the Shady Glen.)
END EDIT
Could the prophecy (also?) be about Littlefinger? About an Umber? Sure. But to dismiss the castle in the snow incident as if Robert's doll is the only figurative "savage giant in a castle built of snow" there is to dismiss a straw man. (See what I did there?)
2023.05.25 13:55 dfr1238 [(FP-POV Gorou)Fanfiction] Dinner Movie Chat
We arrived at the restaurant, which seemed a bit less crowded than at noon. Especially at this time, there weren’t many people dining in the countryside.
I noticed then, that with fewer people around, it was easier to observe the whole restaurant environment.
Entering the main door, the counter was straight ahead. On the left were the seats for singles or pairs, while to the right was the area for four-person tables. Next to the counter was a self-service station where one could fill up on lemon water, miso soup, and even add seaweed. There was also pickled ginger to choose from.
The walls featured white wooden decor, while the pillars were polished in a deep yellow wood. Each four-person table was partitioned by brown straight wooden panels, with the tops of the partitions resembling the appearance of paper doors.
Hanging from the ceiling were white paper lanterns, fitted with warm-toned LED’s, which made the entire room look very cozy. A deep coffee-colored fan was slowly rotating on the ceiling, its presence felt, but not heard. The counter was also traditional wooden, yet a screen beneath displayed today’s recommendations and special offers, while the scanner and cash register on top reminded you of the modern era.
Due to the scarcity of people, we turned right, walking on the red carpeted floor, and found a four-seater by the window. Miss Hoshino and I sat down facing each other. A waiter brought us lemon water and menus.
“Excuse me, waiter, could you please bring us a straw?” I said to the waiter, who nodded and moved off after hearing my request.
Miss Hoshino and I began looking through the menu together.
“See anything you’d like to eat?” I asked her while perusing the menu. “Um… Dr. Amamiya, can I really not have ramen?” She asked, and I looked up at her. Her hands folded in front of her pouted lips, bitten raw, and her brows slightly raised as she peered at me with pleading eyes.
“You’ve injured your lips; if you order it, you can only eat it once it cools down. But it wouldn’t taste as good then, would it? Order something else; there will be another chance.” I advised her while looking at her. “Roger That, Doctor.” she replied in a disappointed tone.
The waiter came over.
“One pork cutlet set meal, please.” I said. “Um, I’d like a bowl of Oyakodon. Thank you.” she replied.
We waited for our meals to arrive.
“Speaking of which…honestly, would you find it strange if someone in their thirties is still a fan of yours?” I slowly asked her.
“Not at all, why?” She giggled and countered. “Desire to love and be loved transcends age; it’s a kind of solace.” she said, smiling at me.
“Is that so?” I asked in confusion. She nodded.
Our food arrived. I placed a straw in her cup. We then began to enjoy our meals. I noticed she was attempting to eat from the side of her mouth because of her injured lip.
The restaurant was calm and relaxing. Gentle Japanese pop music played in the background. Occasionally, the lights of passing cars from the window on the left would shine on us. The ceiling fan slowly rotated overhead.
“Speaking of age, do you know the movie ‘Leon: The Professional’? It’s a film from 1994. It’s quite related to this topic!” She said after taking a bite, looking at me.
“I’m not aware of it. By the way, why does Miss Hoshino know so much about Western movies? Are you a movie buff?” I asked her. “Haha, you could say that. Surprising, isn’t it? Ever since I became an idol, I’ve had more spare money to spend on movie tickets or rent them online!” She replied, laughing.
“But it seems like all old movies.” I said. “Yeah, that’s why I mostly rent movies.” she answered.
I took a bite of my pork cutlet, pondering the movie. “So, what is this movie about?” I asked her. “This film - are you sure you want me to spoil it? You seem to really enjoy it when I do that.” she asked me after taking a bite of her Oyakodon.
“Spoil away. I’ll still watch it. I just want to hear your take on it.” I replied. “Well…if you really enjoy hearing me tell stories, alright then!” She said after taking another bite of her Oyakodon.
She put down her chopsticks, propped her chin on her hands, and stared at me.
“By the way, I watched the extended version.” she says, her eyebrows slightly raised as she looks at me.
She takes a deep breath.
“The protagonist is Leon Montana - a top-notch Italian-American assassin who specializes in eliminating scum in the community. The female lead is Matilda Lando, who’s only twelve. Since Leon is a hitman, he’s always on guard, even sleeping while sitting up. He has no personal life, only enjoys old movies, and his best friend is a potted evergreen plant.” she explains.
“Ah… he likes old movies, huh?” I ask, looking at her. Her eyebrows furrow slightly. “What, do I look like a hitman to you?” she jests, a smile playing on her lips.
We both chuckle. “But honestly, I’ve thought about getting an evergreen plant.” she says, looking down at the table, then back at me.
“Alright, back to the story. The first time they meet, Leon sees the twelve-year-old Matilda secretly smoking outside his apartment, and he promises to keep her secret.” she continues.
“Smoking at twelve, huh…” I muse aloud. “Smoking can be a form of stress relief.” she tells me.
“Sure, but it’s not good, right?” I reply slowly, looking at her. She props her cheek up with her left hand.
“In a life where every day is uncertain, and when there are things happening to you that are far more harmful than smoking, smoking really just serves as comfort.” she says, looking at me. I lower my head slightly, pondering her words.
“Matilda Lando grew up living with her stepmother, stepfather, stepsister, and stepbrother. Everyone except her little four-year-old stepbrother was abusive to her. She had the best relationship with him.” she says.
“One time, her stepfather was double-crossed while holding drugs for a dirty cop. All four family members were killed, including the four-year-old stepbrother, and only Matilda survived.” she continues, sitting up straighter as she looks at me.
…This plot development catches me off guard. I slowly raise my head to look at her.
“Matilda narrowly escaped because she was out shopping. When she came home and saw her stepfather’s body, she couldn’t claim it because one of the dirty cop’s partners was standing at the door. She had to pretend not to recognize him. She walked to Leon’s apartment and knocked on his door. Leon hesitated for a long time, Matilda rang the bell several times, but he finally let her in.” she adds, closing her eyes afterward.
“I really liked that scene. The camera was on Matilda outside Leon’s door. At first, Matilda was calm, pressing the doorbell. But as Leon’s hesitation grew, and the dirty cop behind her started to notice her, her face was near tears, and her voice was on the verge of breaking.” she slowly finishes, opening her eyes.
“But when Leon opened the door off-camera, it was as if a ray of heavenly redemption shone on Matilda’s face, transforming her expression from one of fear and sorrow to gratitude and excitement.” she says slowly, resting her chin on her right hand.
“You… remember the scenes in such detail?” I ask, widening my eyes slightly. “Hey, that’s how I’ve managed to stay in the idol business for so long.” she teases, winking her left eye and sticking out her tongue while making a ‘Ya’ sign with her right hand.
A moment later, she picked up the cup and took a sip of lemonade, her face puckering as the sourness hit. She gently placed the cup back on the table.
“After that, Leon played with the sad Mathilda to cheer her up, only for her to accidentally discover his true identity. One night, Leon pointed a gun at the sleeping Mathilda’s temple, but he couldn’t pull the trigger. They had some conflicts afterward, but in the end, Leon took her in. He began teaching her some assassin skills.” she said, stirring her lemonade with a straw.
“One day, Leon was drinking milk when Mathilda confessed her love to him… causing him to choke on his drink.” she said slowly, laughing toward the end.
“If a teenage girl suddenly confessed to me one day, I guess anyone would choke.” I said, to which she laughed.
“Leon was bewildered by this unexpected love, but he opened his heart. He told Mathilda why he considered the potted plant as his friend: ‘It’s always happy, never asks questions, and just like me—it’s rootless.’” she said.
Rootless, huh?
“One day they went to bed—” she-WHAT?
“What?” I asked, a little surprised. “Come on, let me finish!” she laughed. “Because Leon never slept in a bed. On the night Leon rescued Mathilda, she changed into the dress Leon bought her and confessed her love to him. Leon told her about his sad first love, saying he couldn’t be a good lover. Then, Mathilda fell asleep with her head on Leon 's arm. They only slept.” she explained.
“But the ending was tragic. Mathilda tried to avenge the crooked cop but failed, and he finally found them. Leon died protecting Mathilda. Mathilda planted the evergreen he had given her in the ground, letting him take root. The end.” she finished.
After listening, I felt like Miss Hoshino seemed to enjoy movies with high emotional tension or… a bit of tragedy?
“Miss Hoshino, you seem to like movies with a lot of emotional tension?” I asked her. “I guess so, but most good movies are emotionally intense, don’t you think? Good movies leave a deep impression.” she said slowly, looking at me. I nodded.
“And, there’s a dialogue that left a deep impression on me.” she continued. “Hmm?” I asked.
“‘You’ll grow up with time.’ Leon said. ‘I’m old enough already, Leon . I’m aging.’ Mathilda said. ‘It’s the opposite for me. I’m old enough, but I need time to grow up.’ Leon said.” she quoted.
“Hmm… about the gap between physical age and mental age?” I asked her. She nodded.
“I think it’s quite thought-provoking.” she said.
We continued to enjoy our meal, which had gotten a bit cold as we were absorbed in discussing the movie.
“I understand what the movie is trying to say. But it doesn’t change the fact that my colleagues keep calling me a ‘lolicon’ since they found out I’m a fan of yours.” I said slowly after finishing my edamame.
She seemed to choke a little at the word ‘lolicon’, thumping her chest, and then she burst into laughter. “Hey, I’m serious!” I told her.
“Well, it seems like I’m not mature enough then.” she said after finishing laughing. “Isn’t that normal? You’re only sixteen.” I told her.
Suddenly, I remembered what Naoya had said about breasts and buttocks.
“That guy…” “What’s wrong?” she asked me, bringing me back to reality.
“Nothing, it’s nothing. I just remembered something my junior said before.” I replied. “Oh? What did he say?” she asked me, and I decided to deflect with something else.
“He once used his little sister as an excuse to make me treat him to a meal because he got the limited-edition capsule toy he wanted.” I said with a smile. “What?” she asked, surprised.
“He initially claimed that his sister begged him for it, which was why I agreed to treat him. But later, I found out that the little sister was non-existent.” I told her. “Ah, a non-existent sister.” she raised her eyebrows and smiled.
“But why did you agree to treat him to a meal after he mentioned his sister?” she asked me.
I looked down at the table and thought for a moment.
“At that time, I wanted to say, after all—I wasn’t exactly encouraging him to spend money like that, and to be honest, the reason was kind of baffling. But, I felt that family is about relying on each other, helping each other out. I didn’t think much of it at the time, thinking that if he’s doing it for family, then so be it.” After I finished speaking, I looked at her. I saw her head lowered, nodding slightly, her expression a bit solemn.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” She interrupted me. “It’s okay.” she said to me with a smile.
“That’s my own problem—” she began—what?
I cut her off. “No, that’s the problem of the previous generation, it shouldn’t be borne by the next.” I told her, looking at her.
She looked down, pondered for a moment, then looked at me. “Thank you, Dr. Amamiya.” she said to me—no, that’s not it. “I’m not saying this to comfort you, it’s a matter of right and wrong.” I replied. She closed her eyes to think for a moment.
“It feels like… you’ve had some experiences, Dr. Amamiya, care to share?” She asked, looking at me.
I contemplated for a moment before realizing my earlier reaction.
Sigh.
“Ever since I was a child, ever since I was born, my grandfather wouldn’t stop blaming me.” I told her. “Blaming you… for what?” She asked, looking at me.
I wasn’t sure if I should disclose it.
“Something happened at home in the past, that’s why he kept blaming me.” I answered.
She nodded, and we fell into silence.
“Did this lead you to become a doctor?” She asked—what?
How did she—
“Why do you think that?” I asked her. “Things that impact your career, they must be significant, right? I think this matter must have influenced you quite a bit.” she answered.
…
I nodded, and she quietly nodded in response.
After a moment of silence, we continued to enjoy our meals.
-----
We had cleared our plates off the table and had a refill of our lemon water.
Although Miss Hoshino chose plain water this time, I didn’t expect her to be adverse to sour flavors. After all, she had enjoyed the grilled salmon with lemon juice last time. Perhaps it had accidentally touched a wound?
She took a sip of water, exhaled, and looked at me.
“Doctor, my wound feels much better now! I had no trouble eating just now.” she said with a smile. “It might also be because we were busy talking about the movie, so the food had cooled down a bit when we started eating.” I replied with a smile, looking down in a bashful manner.
“Haha, sorry. I got carried away talking about it.” she said, looking at me with a smile. “No worries, you shouldn’t be eating anything too hot right now. Besides, the movie was quite intriguing.” I responded.
“Really? Which part?” she asked. “Hmm… that dialogue, the one you quoted. And the development between the male and female leads was quite interesting.” I replied.
“That dialogue is thought-provoking, isn’t it?” she said with a smile, then suddenly seemed to remember something.
“Ah! Did you know that the female lead later played Queen Padmé Amidala in Star Wars?” she asked with a grin.
“No, I haven’t watched Star Wa- wait a minute, Miss Hoshino, the range of topics in the movies you watch is quite extensive, isn’t it?” I said to her, puzzled.
“Nope, I haven’t watched Star Wars either. I just found out when I was curious about what other works the actress had been in. Her look as the queen in Star Wars, with the red queen outfit and pale makeup, is stunning!” she said with a light, happy tone.
“And she made her debut at the age of thirteen! Though I debuted a year earlier than her!” she added excitedly. “Like you, debuting at a young age. Have you ever thought about acting or appearing in movies?” I asked her.
“Um… not yet, considering I’m not that famous yet… but if I get the chance, I might give it a try!” she said, beaming at me.
I nodded, taking a sip of my lemon water.
“Dr. Amamiya, you’re a good listener.” she said, looking at me. “Really? I think I asked a lot of questions.” I replied, looking back at her.
“Sometimes, asking questions shows that you’re really listening.” she said, looking at me.
“Is that so?” I asked, and she nodded. “Really?” I asked again, and she nodded emphatically. “Seriously? Do you thi-” she cut me off. “Yes! Right!” she said, knowing I was teasing, and stopped me with a laugh.
I nodded with a smile, but started to wonder, what was going on with her today?
I watched as she took a sip of water, looking out the window to my left, at the scenery beyond.
She was in good spirits when we danced together this afternoon, and she was still lively and laughing now. But wait, that look in her eyes, the one when I asked her about the plot while we were dancing…
I stared at the lemon slice floating in my cup of lemon water.
Then, when I got back to my place and finished the movie on my own… She had blood on her lips and swollen eyes from crying when she stepped out of her house, and her mood then…
I took a sip.
…Did I cause her trouble? Did I do something wrong?
Does the movie “The Graduate” hold some special significance for her?
I look at her as she gazes out at the passing vehicles. I try to find the answer in her eyes.
I’m not sure, I’m confused.
But it feels wrong to ask directly, and equally wrong not to understand at all.
I put down my cup.
…This is such a headache.
A moment later.
“Miss Hoshino, have you noticed any physical changes recently due to your pregnancy? There are certain changes that come with pregnancy, do you have any concerns?” I ask her, then pick up my cup and sip my lemon water.
I watch her as she tilts her head in thought.
“Ah! My breasts have gotten bigger!” she exclaims—I nearly choke on my drink.
“Is there something wrong? Isn’t that normal or…?” she asks me anxiously.
“No, no, that’s very normal. It’s a common occurrence for pregnant women.” I assure her.
“But you just—” she starts, but I cut her off. “No, I almost choked on my drink, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. It’s really very common.” I finish speaking and watch her nod her head. I close my eyes and drink my lemon water.
Frankly, having your favorite idol suddenly announce in front of you that her breasts have grown, that’s not common at all.
But maybe this could lead to what’s actually troubling her?
“Miss Hoshino, pregnancy brings about not only physical changes but psychological ones as well.” I tell her, setting down my lemon water.
“Hmm?” she tilts her head looking at me.
“During pregnancy, the body produces hormones, and there are significant changes in the levels of estrogen and progesterone in a woman’s body. These hormones can affect the central nervous system…” I start to explain but notice that she’s still tilting her head… what am I doing?
“Um, forget what I just said… Simply put, emotional fluctuations are more likely during pregnancy… Changes in mood are more frequent.” I tell her. She slowly straightens her head, looking at me.
She must have understood, right?
“You might feel happy, sad, angry, or upset because of certain things. One moment you’re happy, the next you’re crying.” I tell her.
“Or perhaps things that usually don’t bother you might affect your emotions while you’re pregnant. And things that already affect your mood might have an even stronger impact now.” I say, noting her serious expression as she listens to me.
I pause for a moment, blinking.
She also blinks, nodding her head.
…Uh. I massage the bridge of my nose with my left hand, closing my eyes to ponder what I’ve been doing.
“Dr. Amamiya, are you trying to tell me something?” I open my eyes to see her leaning slightly forward, looking at me with a puzzled expression.
I take a deep breath.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’ve made a promise to ensure the safe birth of your child.” I tell her.
“But for the child to be born safely, it’s indispensable that the mother is healthy, both physically and mentally. These emotional fluctuations are completely normal for you at this stage. Please don’t blame yourself or feel guilty for indirectly harming the child because of these fluctuations.” I say, looking at her. her mouth slightly agape.
“If you have any concerns, not only about pregnancy… if you need someone to talk to, I can refer you to a counseling psychologist I know. Or you can come to me if you prefer.” I tell her.
…I hope I didn’t mess up?
Her expression turned into a smile. “I will, thank you, Dr. Amamiya. You are really considerate.” she said with a laugh.
I was still baffled.
Good heavens.
I continued massaging the bridge of my nose with my left hand.
“Dr. Amamiya… I know that the story about biting a cookie is terrible, I suppose I couldn’t fool you.” I slowly looked up at her, seeing her close her eyes, sticking out her tongue, laughing.
“Miss Hoshino, I…” She interrupted me. “But.” she said.
“Twenty weeks is a long time, maybe I will be ready to tell the doctor later.” she slowly said.
She looked at me.
“Thank you very much, Dr. Amamiya.” she said with a smile.
I looked at her face, the lights from the cars passing by the window on the left, even when hitting her face, her gaze was still clear.
Though I couldn’t guide her to release her concerns, I thought that at least it was a first step.
Now that I think about it, we’ve only known each other for just under a week, I smiled at her, pondering.
I think I need to remember the phrase, “I’m old enough, but I need time to grow up.”
“Hmm, that line make you think of something?” she asked - oh, it slipped out unintentionally.
I chuckled. “Yes, honestly, even though I’ve had many patients, handled various situations, I always feel there’s still so much to learn.” I said with a smile.
“Do you think I’ve grown up enough?” She asked, looking at me.
I looked at her.
Thinking about her experience, I realize that I am now her gynecologist at the age of sixteen. Her delicate inner world doesn’t seem like that of a typical sixteen-year-old. And she has to give her fans a deceptive “special love” while performing on stage as an idol.
“Like I said before, you’re only sixteen.” I said with a smile. She giggled.
I looked at the table.
But I’d rather you not grow up so fast, I thought to myself.
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I noticed then, that with fewer people around, it was easier to observe the whole restaurant environment.
Entering the main door, the counter was straight ahead. On the left were the seats for singles or pairs, while to the right was the area for four-person tables. Next to the counter was a self-service station where one could fill up on lemon water, miso soup, and even add seaweed. There was also pickled ginger to choose from.
The walls featured white wooden decor, while the pillars were polished in a deep yellow wood. Each four-person table was partitioned by brown straight wooden panels, with the tops of the partitions resembling the appearance of paper doors.
Hanging from the ceiling were white paper lanterns, fitted with warm-toned LED’s, which made the entire room look very cozy. A deep coffee-colored fan was slowly rotating on the ceiling, its presence felt, but not heard. The counter was also traditional wooden, yet a screen beneath displayed today’s recommendations and special offers, while the scanner and cash register on top reminded you of the modern era.
Due to the scarcity of people, we turned right, walking on the red carpeted floor, and found a four-seater by the window. Miss Hoshino and I sat down facing each other. A waiter brought us lemon water and menus.
“Excuse me, waiter, could you please bring us a straw?” I said to the waiter, who nodded and moved off after hearing my request.
Miss Hoshino and I began looking through the menu together.
“See anything you’d like to eat?” I asked her while perusing the menu. “Um… Dr. Amamiya, can I really not have ramen?” She asked, and I looked up at her. Her hands folded in front of her pouted lips, bitten raw, and her brows slightly raised as she peered at me with pleading eyes.
“You’ve injured your lips; if you order it, you can only eat it once it cools down. But it wouldn’t taste as good then, would it? Order something else; there will be another chance.” I advised her while looking at her. “Roger That, Doctor.” she replied in a disappointed tone.
The waiter came over.
“One pork cutlet set meal, please.” I said. “Um, I’d like a bowl of Oyakodon. Thank you.” she replied.
We waited for our meals to arrive.
“Speaking of which…honestly, would you find it strange if someone in their thirties is still a fan of yours?” I slowly asked her.
“Not at all, why?” She giggled and countered. “Desire to love and be loved transcends age; it’s a kind of solace.” she said, smiling at me.
“Is that so?” I asked in confusion. She nodded.
Our food arrived. I placed a straw in her cup. We then began to enjoy our meals. I noticed she was attempting to eat from the side of her mouth because of her injured lip.
The restaurant was calm and relaxing. Gentle Japanese pop music played in the background. Occasionally, the lights of passing cars from the window on the left would shine on us. The ceiling fan slowly rotated overhead.
“Speaking of age, do you know the movie ‘Leon: The Professional’? It’s a film from 1994. It’s quite related to this topic!” She said after taking a bite, looking at me.
“I’m not aware of it. By the way, why does Miss Hoshino know so much about Western movies? Are you a movie buff?” I asked her. “Haha, you could say that. Surprising, isn’t it? Ever since I became an idol, I’ve had more spare money to spend on movie tickets or rent them online!” She replied, laughing.
“But it seems like all old movies.” I said. “Yeah, that’s why I mostly rent movies.” she answered.
I took a bite of my pork cutlet, pondering the movie. “So, what is this movie about?” I asked her. “This film - are you sure you want me to spoil it? You seem to really enjoy it when I do that.” she asked me after taking a bite of her Oyakodon.
“Spoil away. I’ll still watch it. I just want to hear your take on it.” I replied. “Well…if you really enjoy hearing me tell stories, alright then!” She said after taking another bite of her Oyakodon.
She put down her chopsticks, propped her chin on her hands, and stared at me.
“By the way, I watched the extended version.” she says, her eyebrows slightly raised as she looks at me.
She takes a deep breath.
“The protagonist is Leon Montana - a top-notch Italian-American assassin who specializes in eliminating scum in the community. The female lead is Matilda Lando, who’s only twelve. Since Leon is a hitman, he’s always on guard, even sleeping while sitting up. He has no personal life, only enjoys old movies, and his best friend is a potted evergreen plant.” she explains.
“Ah… he likes old movies, huh?” I ask, looking at her. Her eyebrows furrow slightly. “What, do I look like a hitman to you?” she jests, a smile playing on her lips.
We both chuckle. “But honestly, I’ve thought about getting an evergreen plant.” she says, looking down at the table, then back at me.
“Alright, back to the story. The first time they meet, Leon sees the twelve-year-old Matilda secretly smoking outside his apartment, and he promises to keep her secret.” she continues.
“Smoking at twelve, huh…” I muse aloud. “Smoking can be a form of stress relief.” she tells me.
“Sure, but it’s not good, right?” I reply slowly, looking at her. She props her cheek up with her left hand.
“In a life where every day is uncertain, and when there are things happening to you that are far more harmful than smoking, smoking really just serves as comfort.” she says, looking at me. I lower my head slightly, pondering her words.
“Matilda Lando grew up living with her stepmother, stepfather, stepsister, and stepbrother. Everyone except her little four-year-old stepbrother was abusive to her. She had the best relationship with him.” she says.
“One time, her stepfather was double-crossed while holding drugs for a dirty cop. All four family members were killed, including the four-year-old stepbrother, and only Matilda survived.” she continues, sitting up straighter as she looks at me.
…This plot development catches me off guard. I slowly raise my head to look at her.
“Matilda narrowly escaped because she was out shopping. When she came home and saw her stepfather’s body, she couldn’t claim it because one of the dirty cop’s partners was standing at the door. She had to pretend not to recognize him. She walked to Leon’s apartment and knocked on his door. Leon hesitated for a long time, Matilda rang the bell several times, but he finally let her in.” she adds, closing her eyes afterward.
“I really liked that scene. The camera was on Matilda outside Leon’s door. At first, Matilda was calm, pressing the doorbell. But as Leon’s hesitation grew, and the dirty cop behind her started to notice her, her face was near tears, and her voice was on the verge of breaking.” she slowly finishes, opening her eyes.
“But when Leon opened the door off-camera, it was as if a ray of heavenly redemption shone on Matilda’s face, transforming her expression from one of fear and sorrow to gratitude and excitement.” she says slowly, resting her chin on her right hand.
“You… remember the scenes in such detail?” I ask, widening my eyes slightly. “Hey, that’s how I’ve managed to stay in the idol business for so long.” she teases, winking her left eye and sticking out her tongue while making a ‘Ya’ sign with her right hand.
A moment later, she picked up the cup and took a sip of lemonade, her face puckering as the sourness hit. She gently placed the cup back on the table.
“After that, Leon played with the sad Mathilda to cheer her up, only for her to accidentally discover his true identity. One night, Leon pointed a gun at the sleeping Mathilda’s temple, but he couldn’t pull the trigger. They had some conflicts afterward, but in the end, Leon took her in. He began teaching her some assassin skills.” she said, stirring her lemonade with a straw.
“One day, Leon was drinking milk when Mathilda confessed her love to him… causing him to choke on his drink.” she said slowly, laughing toward the end.
“If a teenage girl suddenly confessed to me one day, I guess anyone would choke.” I said, to which she laughed.
“Leon was bewildered by this unexpected love, but he opened his heart. He told Mathilda why he considered the potted plant as his friend: ‘It’s always happy, never asks questions, and just like me—it’s rootless.’” she said.
Rootless, huh?
“One day they went to bed—” she-WHAT?
“What?” I asked, a little surprised. “Come on, let me finish!” she laughed. “Because Leon never slept in a bed. On the night Leon rescued Mathilda, she changed into the dress Leon bought her and confessed her love to him. Leon told her about his sad first love, saying he couldn’t be a good lover. Then, Mathilda fell asleep with her head on Leon 's arm. They only slept.” she explained.
“But the ending was tragic. Mathilda tried to avenge the crooked cop but failed, and he finally found them. Leon died protecting Mathilda. Mathilda planted the evergreen he had given her in the ground, letting him take root. The end.” she finished.
After listening, I felt like Miss Hoshino seemed to enjoy movies with high emotional tension or… a bit of tragedy?
“Miss Hoshino, you seem to like movies with a lot of emotional tension?” I asked her. “I guess so, but most good movies are emotionally intense, don’t you think? Good movies leave a deep impression.” she said slowly, looking at me. I nodded.
“And, there’s a dialogue that left a deep impression on me.” she continued. “Hmm?” I asked.
“‘You’ll grow up with time.’ Leon said. ‘I’m old enough already, Leon . I’m aging.’ Mathilda said. ‘It’s the opposite for me. I’m old enough, but I need time to grow up.’ Leon said.” she quoted.
“Hmm… about the gap between physical age and mental age?” I asked her. She nodded.
“I think it’s quite thought-provoking.” she said.
We continued to enjoy our meal, which had gotten a bit cold as we were absorbed in discussing the movie.
“I understand what the movie is trying to say. But it doesn’t change the fact that my colleagues keep calling me a ‘lolicon’ since they found out I’m a fan of yours.” I said slowly after finishing my edamame.
She seemed to choke a little at the word ‘lolicon’, thumping her chest, and then she burst into laughter. “Hey, I’m serious!” I told her.
“Well, it seems like I’m not mature enough then.” she said after finishing laughing. “Isn’t that normal? You’re only sixteen.” I told her.
Suddenly, I remembered what Naoya had said about breasts and buttocks.
“That guy…” “What’s wrong?” she asked me, bringing me back to reality.
“Nothing, it’s nothing. I just remembered something my junior said before.” I replied. “Oh? What did he say?” she asked me, and I decided to deflect with something else.
“He once used his little sister as an excuse to make me treat him to a meal because he got the limited-edition capsule toy he wanted.” I said with a smile. “What?” she asked, surprised.
“He initially claimed that his sister begged him for it, which was why I agreed to treat him. But later, I found out that the little sister was non-existent.” I told her. “Ah, a non-existent sister.” she raised her eyebrows and smiled.
“But why did you agree to treat him to a meal after he mentioned his sister?” she asked me.
I looked down at the table and thought for a moment.
“At that time, I wanted to say, after all—I wasn’t exactly encouraging him to spend money like that, and to be honest, the reason was kind of baffling. But, I felt that family is about relying on each other, helping each other out. I didn’t think much of it at the time, thinking that if he’s doing it for family, then so be it.” After I finished speaking, I looked at her. I saw her head lowered, nodding slightly, her expression a bit solemn.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” She interrupted me. “It’s okay.” she said to me with a smile.
“That’s my own problem—” she began—what?
I cut her off. “No, that’s the problem of the previous generation, it shouldn’t be borne by the next.” I told her, looking at her.
She looked down, pondered for a moment, then looked at me. “Thank you, Dr. Amamiya.” she said to me—no, that’s not it. “I’m not saying this to comfort you, it’s a matter of right and wrong.” I replied. She closed her eyes to think for a moment.
“It feels like… you’ve had some experiences, Dr. Amamiya, care to share?” She asked, looking at me.
I contemplated for a moment before realizing my earlier reaction.
Sigh.
“Ever since I was a child, ever since I was born, my grandfather wouldn’t stop blaming me.” I told her. “Blaming you… for what?” She asked, looking at me.
I wasn’t sure if I should disclose it.
“Something happened at home in the past, that’s why he kept blaming me.” I answered.
She nodded, and we fell into silence.
“Did this lead you to become a doctor?” She asked—what?
How did she—
“Why do you think that?” I asked her. “Things that impact your career, they must be significant, right? I think this matter must have influenced you quite a bit.” she answered.
…
I nodded, and she quietly nodded in response.
After a moment of silence, we continued to enjoy our meals.
-----
We had cleared our plates off the table and had a refill of our lemon water.
Although Miss Hoshino chose plain water this time, I didn’t expect her to be adverse to sour flavors. After all, she had enjoyed the grilled salmon with lemon juice last time. Perhaps it had accidentally touched a wound?
She took a sip of water, exhaled, and looked at me.
“Doctor, my wound feels much better now! I had no trouble eating just now.” she said with a smile. “It might also be because we were busy talking about the movie, so the food had cooled down a bit when we started eating.” I replied with a smile, looking down in a bashful manner.
“Haha, sorry. I got carried away talking about it.” she said, looking at me with a smile. “No worries, you shouldn’t be eating anything too hot right now. Besides, the movie was quite intriguing.” I responded.
“Really? Which part?” she asked. “Hmm… that dialogue, the one you quoted. And the development between the male and female leads was quite interesting.” I replied.
“That dialogue is thought-provoking, isn’t it?” she said with a smile, then suddenly seemed to remember something.
“Ah! Did you know that the female lead later played Queen Padmé Amidala in Star Wars?” she asked with a grin.
“No, I haven’t watched Star Wa- wait a minute, Miss Hoshino, the range of topics in the movies you watch is quite extensive, isn’t it?” I said to her, puzzled.
“Nope, I haven’t watched Star Wars either. I just found out when I was curious about what other works the actress had been in. Her look as the queen in Star Wars, with the red queen outfit and pale makeup, is stunning!” she said with a light, happy tone.
“And she made her debut at the age of thirteen! Though I debuted a year earlier than her!” she added excitedly. “Like you, debuting at a young age. Have you ever thought about acting or appearing in movies?” I asked her.
“Um… not yet, considering I’m not that famous yet… but if I get the chance, I might give it a try!” she said, beaming at me.
I nodded, taking a sip of my lemon water.
“Dr. Amamiya, you’re a good listener.” she said, looking at me. “Really? I think I asked a lot of questions.” I replied, looking back at her.
“Sometimes, asking questions shows that you’re really listening.” she said, looking at me.
“Is that so?” I asked, and she nodded. “Really?” I asked again, and she nodded emphatically. “Seriously? Do you thi-” she cut me off. “Yes! Right!” she said, knowing I was teasing, and stopped me with a laugh.
I nodded with a smile, but started to wonder, what was going on with her today?
I watched as she took a sip of water, looking out the window to my left, at the scenery beyond.
She was in good spirits when we danced together this afternoon, and she was still lively and laughing now. But wait, that look in her eyes, the one when I asked her about the plot while we were dancing…
I stared at the lemon slice floating in my cup of lemon water.
Then, when I got back to my place and finished the movie on my own… She had blood on her lips and swollen eyes from crying when she stepped out of her house, and her mood then…
I took a sip.
…Did I cause her trouble? Did I do something wrong?
Does the movie “The Graduate” hold some special significance for her?
I look at her as she gazes out at the passing vehicles. I try to find the answer in her eyes.
I’m not sure, I’m confused.
But it feels wrong to ask directly, and equally wrong not to understand at all.
I put down my cup.
…This is such a headache.
A moment later.
“Miss Hoshino, have you noticed any physical changes recently due to your pregnancy? There are certain changes that come with pregnancy, do you have any concerns?” I ask her, then pick up my cup and sip my lemon water.
I watch her as she tilts her head in thought.
“Ah! My breasts have gotten bigger!” she exclaims—I nearly choke on my drink.
“Is there something wrong? Isn’t that normal or…?” she asks me anxiously.
“No, no, that’s very normal. It’s a common occurrence for pregnant women.” I assure her.
“But you just—” she starts, but I cut her off. “No, I almost choked on my drink, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. It’s really very common.” I finish speaking and watch her nod her head. I close my eyes and drink my lemon water.
Frankly, having your favorite idol suddenly announce in front of you that her breasts have grown, that’s not common at all.
But maybe this could lead to what’s actually troubling her?
“Miss Hoshino, pregnancy brings about not only physical changes but psychological ones as well.” I tell her, setting down my lemon water.
“Hmm?” she tilts her head looking at me.
“During pregnancy, the body produces hormones, and there are significant changes in the levels of estrogen and progesterone in a woman’s body. These hormones can affect the central nervous system…” I start to explain but notice that she’s still tilting her head… what am I doing?
“Um, forget what I just said… Simply put, emotional fluctuations are more likely during pregnancy… Changes in mood are more frequent.” I tell her. She slowly straightens her head, looking at me.
She must have understood, right?
“You might feel happy, sad, angry, or upset because of certain things. One moment you’re happy, the next you’re crying.” I tell her.
“Or perhaps things that usually don’t bother you might affect your emotions while you’re pregnant. And things that already affect your mood might have an even stronger impact now.” I say, noting her serious expression as she listens to me.
I pause for a moment, blinking.
She also blinks, nodding her head.
…Uh. I massage the bridge of my nose with my left hand, closing my eyes to ponder what I’ve been doing.
“Dr. Amamiya, are you trying to tell me something?” I open my eyes to see her leaning slightly forward, looking at me with a puzzled expression.
I take a deep breath.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’ve made a promise to ensure the safe birth of your child.” I tell her.
“But for the child to be born safely, it’s indispensable that the mother is healthy, both physically and mentally. These emotional fluctuations are completely normal for you at this stage. Please don’t blame yourself or feel guilty for indirectly harming the child because of these fluctuations.” I say, looking at her. her mouth slightly agape.
“If you have any concerns, not only about pregnancy… if you need someone to talk to, I can refer you to a counseling psychologist I know. Or you can come to me if you prefer.” I tell her.
…I hope I didn’t mess up?
Her expression turned into a smile. “I will, thank you, Dr. Amamiya. You are really considerate.” she said with a laugh.
I was still baffled.
Good heavens.
I continued massaging the bridge of my nose with my left hand.
“Dr. Amamiya… I know that the story about biting a cookie is terrible, I suppose I couldn’t fool you.” I slowly looked up at her, seeing her close her eyes, sticking out her tongue, laughing.
“Miss Hoshino, I…” She interrupted me. “But.” she said.
“Twenty weeks is a long time, maybe I will be ready to tell the doctor later.” she slowly said.
She looked at me.
“Thank you very much, Dr. Amamiya.” she said with a smile.
I looked at her face, the lights from the cars passing by the window on the left, even when hitting her face, her gaze was still clear.
Though I couldn’t guide her to release her concerns, I thought that at least it was a first step.
Now that I think about it, we’ve only known each other for just under a week, I smiled at her, pondering.
I think I need to remember the phrase, “I’m old enough, but I need time to grow up.”
“Hmm, that line make you think of something?” she asked - oh, it slipped out unintentionally.
I chuckled. “Yes, honestly, even though I’ve had many patients, handled various situations, I always feel there’s still so much to learn.” I said with a smile.
“Do you think I’ve grown up enough?” She asked, looking at me.
I looked at her.
Thinking about her experience, I realize that I am now her gynecologist at the age of sixteen. Her delicate inner world doesn’t seem like that of a typical sixteen-year-old. And she has to give her fans a deceptive “special love” while performing on stage as an idol.
“Like I said before, you’re only sixteen.” I said with a smile. She giggled.
I looked at the table.
But I’d rather you not grow up so fast, I thought to myself.
2023.05.24 10:31 LongtNG Overly sensitive to bitter taste
Hello all, I've got a bit of a problem with my taste buds right now. For some reason, they've turned super sensitive to anything bitter. This is all new to me; never had this issue before.
At first, I thought my coffee was just too bitter because maybe I was messing up the brewing part. But even after I started sieving out the tiny particles and only using the ones bigger than 800 μm, and making sure I'm brewing at just the right temp, like 89 to 90 degrees Celsius, the bitter taste is still there. It's weird, sometimes I only taste the bitter stuff after I've swallowed the coffee, and it doesn't seem off when it's still in my mouth. Other times, I can taste the bitterness straight away.
I've asked my friends to try my coffee and they didn't find it bitter at all. I'm unsure of how to proceed with this issue. I used to drink 4-5 pots of coffee per day, but I've recently reduced my consumption and yet, the problem persists.
Noted that: other tastes are still normal to me.
submitted by LongtNG to pourover [link] [comments]
At first, I thought my coffee was just too bitter because maybe I was messing up the brewing part. But even after I started sieving out the tiny particles and only using the ones bigger than 800 μm, and making sure I'm brewing at just the right temp, like 89 to 90 degrees Celsius, the bitter taste is still there. It's weird, sometimes I only taste the bitter stuff after I've swallowed the coffee, and it doesn't seem off when it's still in my mouth. Other times, I can taste the bitterness straight away.
I've asked my friends to try my coffee and they didn't find it bitter at all. I'm unsure of how to proceed with this issue. I used to drink 4-5 pots of coffee per day, but I've recently reduced my consumption and yet, the problem persists.
Noted that: other tastes are still normal to me.
2023.05.23 07:55 cp3in3 schools for a current jr's spazoid application?
hi guys! i'm interested in pursuing architecture but my ecs are heavy on language as well as art. i was wondering about schools i should apply to if i don't have a "spike" but rather a more spazzed out array of activities
intended major- b.arch
demographics- asian female/ lower middle class/ large hs (tx)
stats- rank 19/ 800/ GPA W 5.88/6/ SAT 1500 (R800/M700) <- planning to retake
coursework- ap human (5)/ ap seminar (3)/ ap euro (5)/ apush (?)/ ap spanish lang (?)/ ap phys 1 (?)/ ap lang (?)/ ap calc ab (?); future coursework (sr yr)- ap 2d art/ ap 3d art/ ap bio/ ap csa/ ap gov/ ap macro/ ap spanish lit
awards- scholastic silver keys/ houston livestock rodeo finalist/ district rodeo expo; certifications- JLPT N2 (japanese advanced proficiency)/ DELE B2 (spanish advanced proficiency)
clubs- science club (3yrs), spanish nhs (2yrs), science nhs (1yr), nhs (1yr)
ecs- translation work (manga tl, 5yrs)/ hispanic restaurant shift manager (3yrs)/ volunteering with local hispanic impact groups (2yrs)/ girl up founding officer (1yr)/ creating eco-friendly birdhouses and donating them to local organizations (1yr)/ started a philosophy book club w/ english teacher (1yr)/ architecture summer immersion program at a university (2023)/ remote CAD internship (2023)
LO essays- ap lang teacher (did great in her class, we also started a book club and regularly get coffee together #besties), ap phys 1 teacher (would go to tutorials and talk about physics, helped spark my interest in physics... unfortunately no physics classes beyond 1 are offered at my school due to low enrollment)
i think i can write a pretty good essay! i've already started some drafts, and i can get my ap lang teacher to proofread for me. i don't really care about the geographic location, but i want to go somewhere with a b.arch program and strong alumni network. thank you all : )
submitted by cp3in3 to ReverseChanceMe [link] [comments]
intended major- b.arch
demographics- asian female/ lower middle class/ large hs (tx)
stats- rank 19/ 800/ GPA W 5.88/6/ SAT 1500 (R800/M700) <- planning to retake
coursework- ap human (5)/ ap seminar (3)/ ap euro (5)/ apush (?)/ ap spanish lang (?)/ ap phys 1 (?)/ ap lang (?)/ ap calc ab (?); future coursework (sr yr)- ap 2d art/ ap 3d art/ ap bio/ ap csa/ ap gov/ ap macro/ ap spanish lit
awards- scholastic silver keys/ houston livestock rodeo finalist/ district rodeo expo; certifications- JLPT N2 (japanese advanced proficiency)/ DELE B2 (spanish advanced proficiency)
clubs- science club (3yrs), spanish nhs (2yrs), science nhs (1yr), nhs (1yr)
ecs- translation work (manga tl, 5yrs)/ hispanic restaurant shift manager (3yrs)/ volunteering with local hispanic impact groups (2yrs)/ girl up founding officer (1yr)/ creating eco-friendly birdhouses and donating them to local organizations (1yr)/ started a philosophy book club w/ english teacher (1yr)/ architecture summer immersion program at a university (2023)/ remote CAD internship (2023)
LO essays- ap lang teacher (did great in her class, we also started a book club and regularly get coffee together #besties), ap phys 1 teacher (would go to tutorials and talk about physics, helped spark my interest in physics... unfortunately no physics classes beyond 1 are offered at my school due to low enrollment)
i think i can write a pretty good essay! i've already started some drafts, and i can get my ap lang teacher to proofread for me. i don't really care about the geographic location, but i want to go somewhere with a b.arch program and strong alumni network. thank you all : )