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Review: Content Warning: Erotic Fanfiction Deathmatch – Superheroes!

Books & Writing, Comedy, Culture, Events, Performance, Reviews, Short Fictions

July 19, 2017

Seven Dining Lounge is fast becoming a regular geek hangout with many recurring monthly shows known in the community. The night of Friday, July 7th was no exception with Content Warning: Erotic Fanfiction Deathmatch. For those not in the know, fanfiction is a written piece of fiction about a popular culture franchise usually by a fan of said franchise. A famous example of fanfic I’m sure many have heard of is Fifty Shades of Grey, originally based on the Twilight series. Content Warning is a lot like that, but without the Hollywood budget movies and with a bit more consent.

To start off the night’s festivities, host and co-producer Jesse Inocalla takes the stage to announce, well… content warning and general conduct. Each piece has a word count limit of 2,000 words and the content must be enthusiastically consensual. And to the audience, “Don’t be creeps.” A logical rule welcomed by all those attending. This is when the logic ends and wtf begins, as Jesse launches into the first 4 chapters of the ever infamous “My Immortal”. To get the full impact of My Immortal, Google is your friend. It was the only piece of the night not featuring a local writer and set the tone of painful hilarity for the rest of the evening.

The first actual feature story of the night was “Maximum Effort” by Lisa Simon as read by Seth Little’s soothing voice. It began with in-story Deadpool sitting by a fireplace, telling us a bedtime smutty tale about himself and Wolverine, and later joined by Lady Deadpool and Headpool. Also a B story of Dogpool and a white, squeaky unicorn plush somewhere in the background. The words “Snikt me!” and “frothy man syrup” happened. To say more would likely violate content rating rules.

Next up was Katie Kieran Browner’s “Batman v. Catwoman!” narrated by the lovely Minnie Perón. Set in Gotham City on July 4th of a nondescript year, Catwoman slinks around and encounters a stray Batman. A steamy encounter happens between the two and “I’m Batman” was uttered five times. And then – Plot Twist! – it was actually imposter Deadpool. But also it’s just a fantasy as imagined by Deadpool because Deadpool respects women and would never do such a thing.

The third story of the night had the ever talented Abbey St. Brendan reading Jenna Sokalski’s “One Pump Man”. This tale of Saitama (titular character of One Punch Man) has him in the loving embrace of Kal-El himself. It features active consent, as one would expect of classic Superman and was ground-shakingly funny. Abbey’s expressive voice lent well to Saitama’s baritone and 50s radio play style Superman, which adds another layer to the story telling and had the audience roaring with laughter.

Before intermission, we have “Batman vs. Superman” by Topher Andrew Graham, as delivered by the charming Nhi Do. A better version of Batman v Superman where Batman helps out a bro doused in Zod’s Kryptonian pheromones. There’s a Wonder Woman cameo which involved “mathematically impossible poses”. Also “giant dick shaped holes” in significant cultural monuments such as the Eiffel Tower. Kryptonite was used, candles were lit, baddies were ultimately defeated.

Right after the break, we have David Aboussafy’s “Birds of Prey”, once again read by Nhi Do. It features Harley Quinn domming Nightwing and lots of laughing, as one would expect with Harley. Also CBT (NOT cognitive behavioural therapy). As they say, “Once you had Dick…”

The outstanding story of the night is “Kibble War” by Zachary Taylor voiced by Abbey St. Brendan. It truly lived up to the shows name. It sees Garfield’s AU (alternate universe for those not well versed in fanfic lingo) superhero persona, Garzooka and the Pet Force, and the Super Buddies. One must be there to fully absorb the impact this story leaves, made all the more captivating by Abbey’s sound effects. To go into more details will surely violate content rating rules.

To recover from Kibble War, there is Minnie Perón reading Mikail Korst’s “INFINITY FIST”. Thanos lost his Infinity Gauntlet in Galactus’ anal cavity, granting the World Eater unlimited power. Dr. Manhattan arrives with a White Lantern ring where one does not usually find a Lantern ring and attempts to retrieve said gauntlet and to punish Galactus by unconventional means. The tale ends in them forever entwined in passion… or as the audience coined, a “f*ckpocalypse”.

Last but not least is “The Batgirl” by Lauren Wallace, narrated once again by Seth Little. The audience saw Batgirl (Barbara Gordon) giving Batgirls (Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain) a lesson in seduction. The story features Batgirls, many bat similes, more bat facts, and SO MANY bat sex facts. And at the end of it all, Batwoman.

At the end of the night, audience members were encouraged to vote on an online poll to choose the night’s, Smut Master. Lauren Wallace’s “The Batgirl” won fan favourite. Spanning 3 hours, 4 local performers, and 8 stories, Content Warning definitely gives the ticket price worth of entertainment and then some. If adult bedtime stories with a heavy dose of trashy smut and questionable logic sounds like a good time, absolutely do check out future shows. Next Content Warning is on August 11th and the theme is Fantasy.

 


Eva Mak is a local producer, artist and lady about town. You can tweet at her @originalevamak 

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402

Fiction: Take You Home

Books & Writing, Culture, Short Fictions

July 13, 2017

Beyond the end of the world, the end of all the worlds, is a place where they all meet. All manner of creatures and beings come here; it is a place of refuge, of shelter from the storm. And there is always a storm somewhere.

On the seaside Red Cliffs where the gryphons built their aerie, storms are all too common, from the light showers of summer to the harsh monsoons of wet winter. But the cliffs gave them shelter, and the ocean gave them food, and the proud gryphon folk desired little else.

One particularly dark and cold winter, soon after dawn on the shortest day, there blew up a storm more terrible than any in living memory. The sky blackened like midnight, the waves frothed and beat against the red granite, and the strongest and smartest of the gryphons’ warriors and hunters exhausted themselves keeping the aerie’s nests safe and secure. The storm lasted three days and three nights, the heavens themselves shattered by lightning and thunder, and when dawn the final day finally brought calm, the gryphons patrolled their beach to see what havoc the sea had wrought.

There were fish and creatures well known to them washed ashore, which they gathered to eat, and the remains of their beach shelters washed away. Corals and shells from the briny deep lay scattered about, as well as bits of wreckage and debris from constructions made by some unknown hands. And there was the girl.

The gryphons of the Red Cliffs had never seen such a creature. Nor indeed had they ever seen a human, or else they would have deemed her to be like them, slender and clad in a garment of shimmering sea green, but unlike humans her pale blue skin bore the outlines of soft scales, and webbing stretched between her digits as well as between the spines of the fins on the backs of her arms and legs. They gathered, concerned, and sought the elders’ advice on what to do about her.

“Cast it back to the waves. It is no problem of ours,” said one elder. “Put it with the bounty of the storm, we shall feast upon it,” said another. “Kill it and bury it with haste, lest it attract more of its kind,” said a third. They and the others argued about how best to dispose of the creature, when a voice boomed over all of them, “NO.”

They turned and there stood the one called Yalos, eldest son of the chief, and regarded in all things a wise elder of the clan despite his youth. “Have you not listened to the tales? This is not a fish, nor merely some deeper animal. We must show compassion, lest in our haste and greed we commit a grave sin.”

The gryphons scoffed. How could this be anything but an animal? Did it not lack feathers and beak as well as tail and hindclaws? Such a thing could be nothing better than the bounty of the sea, and nothing worse than a pest. But Yalos stood over the creature and drove the others back with wings, claws, and beak. They hissed at him. “You may be our Prince, but that does not give you leave to break our traditions!” spat an Elder, the one who had wished to eat her.

In ones and twos they left, voicing their disdain, and when Yalos was again alone on the beach a soft voice spoke from between his legs: “You have faced your own kind… for me? Why?”

The gryphon stepped aside and peered down into the now wide open pale blue eyes of the girl from the sea. That she spoke his language surprised him, but that she spoke at all did not, for he had listened to the tales. “The right thing to do is that no matter who it is for. I am called Yalos, Prince of the Red Cliffs. May I have your name?”

The girl hesitated, then sat up. “I am Nehelennia of the Waves. And I think… I am lost. Where are these cliffs?”

Yalos indicated the tall cliffs of granite and clay that ran along the beach, but he understood her deeper meaning. “The Mourning Mountains lie further north, the forest we have not named lies further inland to the west. All else is The Sea.”

“The stars, the stars. I must see the stars…” Nehelennia said, though it was not a reply. She pushed on the beach, trying to stand, but was unable.

“Hush,” said the gryphon, shaking his head. “You have been injured in the storm. Rest here; I will bring you food.”

Nehelennia began to protest, but Yalos had already flown off. The prince was as good as his word, and over the following days cared for the nereid, for that is what she was, as though she was his own chick. And each night, as the black velvet sky shone with stardust, she became sadder and sadder.

“Why do you cry when you see the stars?” Yalos asked one such night.

“I am lost,” she replied, “This is not the sky of my home.”

“It is the only sky,” said the gryphon with some confusion.

“No. It is but one of many. When the storms between the worlds blow, they cross from sky to sky, and the storms…. they took me, years ago. I have been alone ever since, and do not think I will again see the sky over the Brightwater.”

And with that, she placed her face in her hands and wept sea foam.

Yalos’ heart broke for her, though he did not understand this talk of other worlds. He wrapped a wing around her in comfort and said, “Then let your loneliness at least be eased. I will take you home.”

The nereid shook her head. “No, you cannot! Even I do not know the way.”

“We shall find it together,” said he. “By the Egg of the Sun, I will take you home.”

Nehelennia protested further, but it was to no avail. A gryphon’s promise is neither given nor broken lightly, and a prince’s even more so. A fortnight had not yet passed when she dove into the waves to once again seek her home, and when she did so Yalos took wing and followed overhead.

A gryphon is a strong creature, and Yalos was both strong and wise, but they are not normally users of magic. A nereid, contrariwise, is formed of the magic found in the hidden depths. Nearby, water and ice moved as she directed it, and each night of their journey as the sun sank and Yalos’ wings tired from flight, she would make a pan of ice and there they would both spend the night, he curled upon it and she bobbing upon the waves.

Days passed. Nehelennia seemed to know where she was going, but each night when Yalos asked if they were drawing nearer, she would simply reply, “This is still not my sky.” Just as the gryphon was beginning to wonder what they sought, the girl pointed excitedly at the horizon. There, a huge storm was gathering against the darkening sky.

“That is the storm between worlds! We must… I must go to it!” said she.

“What? Go into the storm? We will be killed!” Yalos squawked.

“I must!” Nehelennia insisted. “You do not have to. Return to your people.”

Yalos shook his head. “I cannot. We are too far – but that does not matter. I have not fulfilled my oath.”

The argument would no doubt have continued, but no storm moves as fast as the one between the worlds, and it struck them as they spoke! The gryphon struggled, beating his wings hard and dodging the flashes of lightning and the worst downdrafts, as did the nereid, fighting to maintain control as the waves began to rise and tower nearly the height of the Red Cliffs themselves!

Nehelennia was losing the battle for control. A creature of the sea, she could not drown, but neither could she control where she was thrown. The waves buffeted and threw her about until, with a sudden jerk, she was yanked upward into the storm instead. Yalos had scooped her from the foam.

Traveling upwards within the clouds, both beheld a sight they had never seen before: as the clouds roiled and broke, between them snatches of land and sea could be seen – but not the sea they left. Worlds mundane and exotic flashed past, until finally the nereid pointed and yelled “THERE!”

Yalos threw them both through the gap without thinking about what he was doing, and suddenly the storm was gone. Instead, they floated above a calm green sea, with islands on the horizon.

“What has happened?” the gryphon asked, amazed.

“The storm between worlds, dear Yalos. We have crossed,” the nereid replied.

She looked around, and a smile began to spread on her face.

Yalos looked at her. “Is… is this your sky?”

“It is not… but it is one I have seen before. Perhaps we can follow the trail backwards. Through the storms.”

Thus began the hardest time in the gryphon prince’s life. Through storms and strife, barren worlds and worlds rife with deadly creatures, the two of them traveled, always seeking out the Storm Between Worlds when it touched down. With Yalos’ wings, they were able to choose between the worlds they glimpsed among the stormclouds, rather than being at the mercy of the waves to toss them through as Nehelennia had once been. Still, it was nearly a year and a half by Yalos’ reckoning when finally their journey came to an end.

They passed through the storm to a foggy world with no clear horizon, and touched down gently upon the waves. The fog bank proved to be nothing more than mist and blew away, and when it did, Nehelennia looked up and shrieked with delight.

“Look! The Dancers! The Anglerfish! The Waterspout! See the stars, Yalos? We are finally here! This is my sky!”

The gryphon smiled and flew a grand loop in celebration. With the familiar stars overhead, it was only one more night before Nehelennia directed them both to a lagoon surrounded by a reef – a lagoon within the sea. “This is the Brightwater. This is the place where I was born, and where my family…” She trailed off and watched him land.

Yalos settled down on a reef to rest. “Good, good. If this is the place, then you are home. I am glad. Allow me to rest here a short time, and I will… be on my way.”

They looked at one another, and at the same time realized what Yalos had done. He had crossed the storms, driven to keep his oath, and come as far from his home across as many worlds as Nehelennia had been when they first met. Nehelennia, for her part, looked about the deserted Brightwater and realized that she had not been the only one swept up.

Yalos put his head down on his forelimbs. “I cannot deny it. I am lost. But you are home now, my oath is fulfilled, and with guidance of the Egg I may yet find my way home.” He closed his eyes and shuddered, thinking of the journey ahead.

Nehelennia hopped up and sat beside him upon the reef. “You have shown me a greater kindness than I ever imagined. You have taken me across the worlds, and kept me safe, and never once thought of your own journey home.”

She laid a hand on the feathers of his head and stroked gently. It was the first time they had touched for a reason other than the necessities of the journey. “Let your fear be eased. By the Dancers on the Deep… I will take you home.”

The gryphon began to protest, but it was as futile as her own had been before. When Yalos left the reef, Nehelennia came with him, and together they plunged once again into the storms.

That is them there, as you may have guessed. Even in a place such as this, a gryphon is a rare sight, and it is hard to miss the blue maiden of the sea. You may wonder how they came here; why, they came as most do, blown in from the storm. And they have stayed, for one very important reason.

They did not tell each other at first that they were alone. Yalos’ actions on Nehelennia’s behalf earned him, if not the status of an exile, at least the status of an insubordinate, and among the Gryphons of the Red Cliffs that is nearly the same thing. Nehelennia’s home had been devastated by the storm, much more than she had known before her return; all that she had known was gone, and the work to rebuild would be great indeed.

But the reason they stayed was to keep their promises. For neither had promised to bring the other to a place, but rather promised to bring them home – and after the trials they had faced together, for each of them, ‘home’ could be anywhere…

As long as that is where the other is.

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303

SCRAP Entertainment presents Defenders of the Triforce

Culture, Events, Reviews

July 10, 2017

Escape Rooms are a recent advent, the product of clever people growing up and building games for other clever people. The idea is to create a room with a series of riddles, puzzles, and tricks that anyone can solve with the proper application of intelligence, and there’s some that are very good and some that are, well, they’re kinda meh.

Defenders of the Triforce exceeds all ideas of the former.

This is easily one of the best escape rooms we’ve ever done and why wouldn’t it be? Crafted by SCRAP Entertainmenta puzzle game room company that has been running since 2007 and has offices in Kyoto, San Francisco, San Jose, Los Angeles, and Toronto – this is one of the most immersive experiences we’ve ever had the pleasure of playing through. What’s even more impressive is that they’ve taken this particular room on tour.

Defenders of the Triforce has traveled to San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego, Houston, New York, Montreal, Toronto, Ottawa, Vancouver, Phoenix, Seattle, Chicago, Edmonton, and Calgary. We had the distinct pleasure of trying out their Vancouver efforts and were amazed from the moment we arrived to long after we left.

We’re not going to spoil anything or give away solutions to any of the puzzles, but we are going to talking about what this was like and urge you to go and experience this for yourself. It is well worth the effort.

Most escape rooms involve a single location where you and a small number of people are looked in that environment and look for a way out. Some feature multiple rooms and some don’t – it depends on the narrative structure of the story being told, because every escape room has a story and flavor that gives the experience context. Here’s the setup for this one:

Defenders of the Triforce takes place in a hotel ballroom. It’s massive, with a video screen that gives us our story – Ganon has returned and Link has gone missing. Princess Zelda is holding him at bay and we, each group of players, is given the means of becoming the Hero of Time. We are split into groups of six or seven but everyone plays at once. There’s a sense of companionship with the people at your table and competition with the tables around you, but it’s all in good fun – everyone can win, but everyone wants to win first.

It’s remarkable how well SCRAP has captured the look and feel of the Legend of Zelda. Early buzz from excited participants took note of the dungeons around the room – Kokiri Village, Goron Mountain, the Temple of Time, and a Zora Lagoon. Helpers flutter around with glowing faerie shirts, responding to cries of hey, listen and offering hints to those that need them.

And you might need them. The puzzles are fiendishly clever, though nowhere near as hard as the Water Temple. Time travel, gardening, music, movement, pots, rupees, all the things you’d expect from a Zelda game are present and accounted for. It’s amazing how easy it is to get lost in the feel of it all, the sense that you’re wandering through a Zelda game and that only you and your friends can save Hyrule from the Gerudo Tribe’s most infamous son.

Though SCRAP Entertainment has left Vancouver, there are plenty more locations that you can learn more about by clicking here. They’ve also got other games coming down the pipe and going on tour, including experiences based on Final Fantasy, Dragon Ball Z, and the Mummy (the recent Tom Cruise one, not the Brendan Fraser one). They’re also branching out into augmented reality games, and you can learn more about that by clicking here or watching this video:

In short, if you have the chance to go to an escape room run by SCRAP, grab some friends and do it. These games are awesome.

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1047

Preview : Too Queer: A Bi Visibility Cabaret

Culture, Events, Interviews, Showcase

July 5, 2017

We recently interviewed Katie Sly of Too Queer: A Visibility Cabaret which will be at The Fox Cabaret on Friday, July 7

LMM: Can you give us a brief but fascinating history of how Too Queer: A Bi Visibility Cabaret came to be?

KS: Too Queer: A Bi Visibility Cabaret is an arts-based community engagement project I created in Toronto in 2014, in response to an absence of community events organized for and about bisexuality and pansexuality. Back in 2014, I knew only a handful of other bi/pan folks. On a message thread with the small group of bisexuals, I did know, we were sharing and complaining about perceptions of bisexuality. On that thread a friend of mine mentioned that someone should throw a performance event about bisexuality– and I immediately realized I had the requisite amount of know-how, rage, and connections, to actually make that happen. I contacted my friends William Ellis and Jordan Tannahill, who were running a storefront, independent performance venue called Videofag, told them I had no budget but a lot of passion to curate a performance night celebrating bisexuality and pansexuality, and luckily for what would become the Too Queer cabaret series, William and Jordan understood the bi and pan community’s need, and donated us their space. 

In 2014 when all of this started, I felt completely disconnected from a bisexual community and wondered if one even existed. At the same time, I encountered biphobia in my day-to-day life and in designated queer spaces, where I often saw that the B in LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans) was only welcome if it was silent. So in curating the first Too Queer event, I only expected a handful of people to show up. What happened instead was that the performance space was so packed, it was standing-room only about an hour before performances even began. I was shocked by just how many bisexuals, pansexuals, and our allies had been waiting for an event like this– had been waiting for a space where we felt welcome. There were people standing 4-deep outside the windows of Videofag’s storefront, trying to see the performances. For the first time in my life, I saw how large our community actually is. Immediately after that first event, the bi and pan community I had just discovered asked me, “When’s the next one?” 

That’s how this bi visibility cabaret series was born.

Since 2014, Too Queer has held four widely-attended multimedia performance events in Toronto, showcasing photography, illustration, storytelling, dance, burlesque, spoken word poetry, and music, among other artistic disciplines. In 2016 Too Queer held a day of free-to-the-public arts workshops, all led by artists who identify as bi or pan, working around the question, “How do we make bisexual art?” That day of workshops was followed a week later by another hugely successful performance event at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre (the world’s oldest and largest queer theatre). In the words of Buddies’ Artistic Director Evelyn Parry, “There’s no project like Too Queer in Toronto. It’s time to expand the definition of what we think of as queer.” 

Now, with Too Queer’s first Vancouver event coming up this Friday, July 7 at 8 pm at the Fox Cabaret, Too Queer is the first and only bi-coastal (pun intended) bi and pan performance series. 

LMM: What are your goals with this event?

KS: Too Queer: A Bi Visibility Cabaret has three goals: combat biphobia, create a safe container in which bi and pan culture can develop and evolve, and serve as a cultural focal point around which bisexual folks, pansexual folks, and our allies can meet each other and form friendships, relationships, and community.

Biphobia, a form of discrimination distinct from homophobia and transphobia, takes many different forms. For example, a frequent form of discrimination bisexual people face is the assertion that bisexuality (physical, sexual, and/or emotional attraction to people of the same gender and of other genders) simply doesn’t exist, and is either an expression of confusion over sexual orientation or greed. Another form biphobia takes is the stigma that bisexuals spread HIV to the straight community. Biphobia also manifests in violence. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, bisexual women experience a significantly higher rate of being stalked, attacked, or sexually assaulted by an intimate partner than women of other sexual orientations.

The denial of the existence of bisexuality manifests in the media through an absence of portrayals of bisexual characters and narratives, which in turn enforces the belief that bisexual people don’t exist. Through art, Too Queer: A Bi Visibility Cabaret attempts to combat biphobia by increasing the visibility of bisexuality, pansexuality, and polysexuality, and by creating an opportunity for art that addresses the bi spectrum to develop.

LMM: Can you give us a rundown of the artist you are working with and why they are in the show?

KS: Vancouver’s first instalment of Too Queer: A Bi Visibility Cabaret has a tremendously diverse line-up. We have, from Vancouver:

Video art about what it means to wear a Cochlear implant and thus, be a human cyborg, from bad ass deaf Asian warrior Jessica Leung.

Poet and virtual reality investigator Doctor Ray is looking at the intersection of art and technology, bringing us an art piece he will (literally) attempt to control with his mind.

Ruthe Ordare, Manda Stroyer, and Shane Sable of Virago Nation will be performing with us. Virago Nation is an all-Indigenous collective of burlesque performers on a mission to reclaim Indigenous sexuality from the toxic effects of colonization.

Keyboard virtuoso and avant-garde muse, bi pianist Rachel Kiyo Iwaasa will be performing compositions by a bi composer, and in so doing explore an awareness of global bi+ culture.

Dominique Wakeland, Alexa Fraser, and Matt Winter of Devil’s Threesome, a devised theatre performance ensemble emerging out of Simon Fraser University, will be sharing a hilarious and strangely sexy performance examining objects of desire.

From Toronto:

Queer and trans solo multi-instrumentalist Rory Jade Grey will be sharing their storytelling musical work on guitar and loop pedal. Rory has been a fan-favourite of Too Queer in Toronto.

We’ll be projecting visual art by Caitlynn Fairbarns. For our show on July 7, Caitlynn has taken stills from film and TV, of queer and bi characters, and has used paint to edit out their surroundings, so that the focus is brought to these queer and bi characters, whose identities are so often erased.

And last but certainly not least, joining us from across the border:

Los Angeles’s multi-instrumentalist, singer-songwriter and LGBTQ activist Monique “Honeybird” Mizrahi will be performing. Honeybird has toured Europe, and her previous performance bookings have included Obama’s White House. Honeybird was part of the Obama administration’s summit on health and policy issues related to bisexuality. (The Obama administration is the only government in the world that has held such a summit). This will be Honeybird’s first time performing in Vancouver, and Honeybird’s music often explores themes of bisexuality. She is an important international advocate for our community, and will not only share her music but her stories as a bi activist.

The artists I’ve programmed for this event, I’ve selected because they are extraordinarily talented and daring artists who either self-identity on the bi+ spectrum or their work addresses themes relevant to the bi+ community. 

LMM: Do you have a mission statement or commitment to the community that you would like to share?

KS: Too Queer: A Bi Visibility Cabaret is an arts-based community engagement project, which has been making and holding space for art addressing bisexuality, pansexuality, and polysexuality since 2014. For the purposes of this project, bisexuality, pansexuality, and/or polysexuality are sexual orientations that describe attraction to persons of more than one gender. 

Too Queer stands in solidarity with trans communities, and believes that, to paraphrase bi poet and activist Lani Ka’ahumanu: bi folk, pan folk, genderqueer folk, trans folk, and non-binary folk– we are the sex and gender border bandits, and we need to have each other’s back. 

Too Queer gives the middle finger to viewing gender and attraction as an either-or. Every washroom at Too Queer is open to everyone.

Regardless of one’s sexual orientation, everyone is welcome to attend Too Queer. Too Queer is a space where you can be who you are, and be loved as you are.

LMM: Do you have any more events planned in the future? 

KS: In September 2017, there is a weekend-long Bi Arts Festival being organized by, among others, my colleague, bi activist Catherine Jones. Catherine and I are looking at putting together an edition of Too Queer: A Bi Visibility Cabaret for the Bi Arts Festival in Toronto in September. https://www.facebook.com/biartsfestivalTO/

LMM: Name a famous bi/pan performer that you would love to have as a guest performer in the show.

KS: It’s a real thrill to have an international artist like Honeybird joining us. Honeybird is an artist I’ve been trying involve in the Too Queer project for a year now.

Next on my list of artists to have work with Too Queer is a music act called Witch Prophet, who I almost managed to snag for this first Too Queer event here in Vancouver, before Witch Prophet got booked for a gig in Tokyo. So my chase of Witch Prophet continues.

One day, I’d love to have columnist and speaker Eliel Cruz be part of a Too Queer event. Eliel is one most vocal bisexual activists I can think of, and his work has been published in the Huffington Post, Teen Vogue, GQ, and Rolling Stone, to name a few media heavy-hitters.

And then, I’d like to have Anna Paquin perform at Too Queer. 

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170

Review: The Lady Show – Prom!

Comedy, Culture, Events, Improv, Reviews, Showcase

July 5, 2017

The Lady Show is a prime example of setting up a space of solidarity and creating a community around it. Their fans are fiercely loyal, deeply passionate and really excited for the solidarity! Creating spaces for women to express themselves in ways that are authentic and away from the expectations to perform in ways that are expected. If you ever needed an example what their community looks like, take a look at their Facebook pictures from The Prom. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER! 

The host for the evening was Katie Elen Humphries and her presence was the right one for the night. Her connection with the crowd was genuine and they really vibed with her. I want to stress this… THE CROWD LOOOOOVVVVEEEED THE SHOW!

The guests for the night were Carmelahhh ComedyJasmine Elist and Sarah Wheeler and they brought great heart and talent to the show. Carmelahh Comedy who do improv around the city had great skits about a dolphin joining a cult, crying and dying at work and being best friends who stop talking to each other. Jasmine Elist had an awesome guided meditation about being kidnapped and Sarah Wheeler was the musical guest of the night and her music was soulful.

Lady Show Super Fans Loneka and Natasha were living it up prom night style with tiaras, face glitter and all the booze 😉 ” The Lady Show is Epic!”

Cast members doing The Hand Jive!

Improv duo Carmelahhh Comedy doing a skit about a horny dolphin joining a cult!

Loneka got to go on stage and help the trainer!

Loneka is good at helping

Her reward… a dolphin ride!

Sarah Wheeler singing her heart out!

 

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361

Living Myth Magazine Podcast – Episode 1 – July 2017

Culture, Podcast

July 2, 2017

Welcome to the first episode of Living Myth Magazine Podcast.

We are glad you are spending some time with us.

Your hosts Anne Honeycutt and Aaron Golden really appreciate you.

This episode features two interviews, a short story and a piece of music created by wonderful creatives.

Interview 1:

FAMILIES ACROSS CANADA with Jo Dworschak

The great adventure of Jo Dworschak and her son Luke starts on Canada’s 150th birthday in St. John’s, Newfoundland. From there they will find their way back to Vancouver, British Columbia. It’s an 86 hour drive! Along the way, they’ll be seeking diverse families to meet with. Collecting stories and connecting Canadians from coast to coast!.

You can hear more about this project and support Jo and Luke by liking their Facebook Page:  https://www.facebook.com/ohmanshow/

Website: https://familiesacrosscanada.wordpress.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/familiesacrosscanada/

And finally, donate to their GoFundMe! They need gas money: https://www.gofundme.com/familiesacrosscanada

You can also contact them to tell them they are doing great or to meet up with them so that your family can share their story by emailing Jo at jo.dworschak@gmail.com

 

Interview 2:

ZEROD20 with Jalyn Euteneier

ZeroD20 is an inclusive “representation matters” tabletop gaming podcast franchise that recently started a collaboration with Living Myth Magazine. They have plans to be at Geek Girl Con (https://geekgirlcon.com/) this year in Seattle and want to make the gaming world a better place for all.

You can follow them on the internet using the following!

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/pg/ZeroD20

Twitter: @zerod20_

Website: http://www.zerod20.com/

and you can support their Kickstarter Campaign!

Our Short Story Feature This Month

Take You Home by Abbey St. Brendan which will be available to read in its entirety along with the full audio read by Michael McIntyre on July 13th (Link to be added when the story drops)

And last but not least! Our Featured Song!

She Waits by Andrew Mockler

You can get all the news on show dates and how to purchase his music on http://www.andrewmockler.com/  also feel free to follow him on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/andrewmocklermusic/

Do you like what you heard? Do you want us to celebrate your creativity creatively? Drop us a line at podcasts@livingmythmedia.com and Anne will totally get back to you 😀

 

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350

Fiction: Clone Me Baby, One More Time

Books & Writing, Culture

June 30, 2017

The rocket hit me in the face dead on. My teeth shattered, pieces of bone shearing the soft tissues of my tongue and mouth. My nose hollowed out and everything from its bridge down became pulp. The faceplate I wore saved my eyes, though it cracked and the display disappeared in a flicker of red. I wavered between consciousness and darkness as blood loss took its toll.

I respawned back at home base, my new body buzzing with fresh energy. This was my third death this game; my K/D ratio was going to go to shit if I kept this up. I grabbed an Energy Aid Cola from the drink machine — the price automatically deducted from the game’s winnings — and downed the methamphetamine laced drink.

My name is Lady Death and this is the life I was cloned for.

We were down two lane lengths, the enemy team’s crawlers pounding at our door, and I was playing like a newbie-clone who still needed her training bot to function. If we didn’t get a grip on this game then the Sunbros could say goodbye to our place at Superchamp stadium, and we might as well stop playing if it came to that. I grabbed a Lady Death Soul Reaper Scythe™ from the rack and breached the base’s doors to once again join the fight.

Big Johnny Four was waiting at the entrance, his black and gold exosuit glinting in the noon sun.

“Saw the replay of that hit, you okay Lady D?”

His immense frame towered over me, his right arm encased in a massive gatling gun.

“I’m fine. It’s just the crowd today. They seem more hostile than normal,” I said.

I could see small wars breaking out where the Sunbro fans met the Battering Bruiser fans. There was more gunfire going on in the bleachers than on the actual field. The Game Devs would have to step in if it escalated any more.

“Don’t let it get to you. The Devs just decided to make today free Battle Bright Taco Tuesday. I think they spike that shit with speed.”

Johnny patted my shoulder with his huge hand, his touch soft through my skin-tight armour.

“Come on, we have the the left lane to cover. Silvia’s all by herself and they’re pushing hard.”

I nodded and engaged my cloak, leaving his hand sitting on my ghostly shoulder. He hefted his gun and trundled toward left lane as I took my own, faster route. I ran toward the nearest wall, took a step up it, and flipped on top of it.

The entire field spread out before me, maze like halls with open tops and two uncluttered lanes winding their way through them. Above all was the multifaced big-screens that currently showed Deadringer Silvia holding off two enemy champions. I couldn’t tell which, but I thought I could see the tell-tale shimmer of one of my clone sisters weaving between the crawlers.

I jumped from one wall to the next, making time faster than Johnny who had to traverse the maze on foot. I knew every inch of this course, had been running through it and four others since I was barely out of the clone tubes. I’d run through it blind more than once.

I made my way to Silvia’s perch and tapped on the back of her helmet.

“Dead.”

She nodded and continued firing at the enemy crawlers. Each one she hit exploded in blue flame before disappearing in a mess of metal.

“Big J is on his way, it’s gonna take him a minute or two. I’m going to hit the crawlers on the back line, just keep our own in good shape.”

She nodded again as I jumped down to the lane and headed behind the enemy champs.

I hit a wall and ran on it, the sound of my boosters matching the whine of the crowd. There was the opening: the enemy’s Dirty Harriet was reloading and the blue clad Big Johnny was focused on a crawler that had made it past their defensive line. I slipped between them and toward the stream of crawlers behind.

The edge of my scythe cut through the ribbed bots like they were melting snow. Each one seemed to look around for whatever had hit it before puffing into a fireball. I swept through the advancing crawlers, taking them out two at a time.

Then I heard it: the mechanical trill of my sister Lady Death coming to stop me. I turned toward the sound, trying to spot her before she could close in. She was in-lane, a shimmering blue ghost heading directly toward me. I opened my booster’s throttle to full and jumped over her, her scythe missing me by inches. I rapped her on the back of her helmet with the hilt of my scythe and dropped my cloak before leaping over the wall into the maze.

She followed, still cloaked and probably mad as hell. If she was following me it meant that she wasn’t bugging someone who could do some real damage. I was done sweeping the oncoming crawler wave anyway, enough that Johnny and Silvia could gain ground.

I ran on the maze’s walls and boosted around corners, my mobility easily keeping my doppelganger behind me. She was just boosting along the ground; that meant she was still wet behind the ears with amniotic gel. That meant I could have some fun.

I jumped vertically off the wall I was on, tucked in my legs cannonball style, and boosted high into the air. As the ground fell away behind me I switched on my cloak. Between my golden armour and my cloak, the sunny sky would make me completely invisible. I swung myself around till I pointed at the ground and revved my jets. I came down right on top of her, scythe ready to cut her head open like an avocado.

Then I saw her face. She’d noticed that I was coming down on her and that there was nothing she could do. Her faceplate was just clear enough that I could see her wide, terrified eyes and her mouth hung open, twitching at the corners.

I had a wave of utter horror come over me then, remembering my first few matches when I still felt scared to die. Her face was so much like my own, a few less scars but still as beautiful. I hesitated and she cut me in half.

We won, somehow. Silvia and Big Johnny managed to beat back their lane till it was at the Battering’s base, then Warhammer — a guy on our team with so much armour a tank shell could hit him and he would still be standing — walked our crawlers in. The base exploded, fans cheered, and my ranking dropped six places.

I was still in the top ten rankings for Lady Deaths but it hurt my sponsorships. I lost my contract with Burger Boys and Ooze Energy drinks which meant I would have to start downgrading my equipment. Goodbye steel bones, I knew the well.

Back at the Sunbros’ group home. I sat on the floor of my shower and bit my nails till they bled. I could hear the rest of my team talking about today’s game in the living room.

“What the fuck was up with Lady D today? She was playin’ like a kid in a barfight!” Harriet grumbled, her southern drawl stinging my ears with every twang.

“It was the crowd. The Devs are going crazy with the sponsors lately and it’s getting to her.” Johnny Four said, “They’re getting to me too. Some of our fans had a higher kill count than us today.”

“Bullshit,” Harriet slammed her fist on to the table, “That stuff ain’t more’n a little more noise than normal, it ain’t worth losin’ a lane over. She’s goin’ soft. I watched the replays of that fight with the Batterin’ bitch, I know she hesitated. She’s gonna run soon and you know it.”

Silence came from the other room and tears mingled with my shower water. She was right, maybe I was getting too old for this shit. Maybe I’d overdosed on Energy Aid one too many times and finally snapped, my brain rewiring itself into an emotional stupor. Maybe running was a good idea. At least I’d get to die on my feet.

Johnny caught me leaving that night, his muscled body blocking the doorway out of the apartment.

“You don’t have to do this.” His hands shook at his sides.

“I can’t stay here. Harriet’s right, I’ve gone soft.”

“What about Sylvia?”

Just minutes before, I’d snuck into her room, leaving a note saying “Goodbye, thanks for all the fun times. I’m sorry it had to end like this.” I should have written more but there wasn’t enough time. I looked at Johnny’s feet.

“What about me?” he said.

I hoisted my scythe to hide myself behind bravado. “It wouldn’t have worked out. I like the ladies too much.”

I pushed him aside with it so I could leave. He let me pass and closed the door behind me.

I switched on my visor and the night vision painted the rooftop in sharp green. The Sunbros’ headquarters were on the edge of the mega city Keres — the Devs wanted to keep us as separate from the general population as possible and not even the most avid fans want to risk getting caught in The Taint beyond.

I walked to the edge of the building and looped a rope. As I descended down the building, I began flipping through TV channels on my HUD. Jack Flack’s face filled my vision and the Superchamp theme music began to play.

“Welcome y’all to this special edition of Superchamp, the game that keeps y’all’s blood running hot. As you know, when a Champ gets all cowardly and such, they have a tendency to run like cattle from a bonfire. When that happens, we gotta hunt ’em down like the dogs they are.

“Tonight, we got a little clone who’s a running, the woman in the black and gold, LADY DEATH OF THE SUNBROS!”

The crowd in the background screamed, their voices too loud in my helmet earbuds.

“For those of you who may have forgotten since our last runner, we got a bit of a reminder. When a Champ is cloned in game, they keep the core memories of the previous version. That’s so we get all the different kinds a personalities that y’all enjoy in the games. So the Warhammer from the Glass Cannons won’t act like the Warhammer from the Silverados.”

“But, we don’t keep those memories around after the games: they go right back into a Champ clone for storage. If a champ gets killed outside of a game, they’re gone for good.

“This Lady D has decided to leave her coop and bring all those cowardly memories with her, which is good for us. We have to get rid of em but why leave out all you people from the fun of it.”

Jack turned to the camera and gave the audience a wink.

“We’ve set up another, randomly picked, champ with their own cameras and we’re sending them after her into the wastes. Tonight’s hunter will be…” He turned to a screen at the center of the stage and swept his hand toward the flickering name, “Lady Death from the Battering Bruisers!”

I shut the feed down. Of course they had to bring that Battering Bitch in. I rappelled down the side of the wall as fast as I could. If I was going to get through this, I would have to put some distance between us before they released the hunter. As soon as I hit the ground I ran off into The Taint.

Two hours later, I was running along the edge of a cliff face with the last dregs of a can of Energy Aid flowing through my system. There hadn’t been much excitement other than the occasional man-eating plant. Games never lasted this long, and without the soothing life of a new clone body, the new sensation of sore muscles was wearing me down.

I slid down the steep cliff face, vines making the boost-assisted climb a nightmare. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up before I had to find somewhere to hide and let my poor muscles rest. My foot caught an outcropping of rock and I almost fell, just managing to hold on with my fingertips. Then an explosion thrummed through me.

To my right, a chunk of the wall fell to the ground seventy feet below. The explosion shook me off of the rock face and I plummeted along with the rubble. With help from my booster my fall slowed but I felt a deep crack as I threw my arm between my face and the ground.

Pain crested from my shoulder to my elbow. My ribs burned every time I took in a whistling breath. I reached into the pack I’d taken when I left and grabbed a Bingo Bandage (“With child friendly morphine!”) to slap on my neck. With the drug seething through my body, I grabbed my scythe from my back and stood to face whatever had knocked me from my perch.

“Whoa there D,” someone said from the edge of the rubble-filled clearing. “Don’t move or I’ll actually hit you this time.”

“Johnny?”

From the shadowed treeline stepped Big Johnny Four, his armour overgrown with moss but still showing the lime green underneath. He hoisted a golf club onto his left shoulder and smiled at me.

“You the runner or the hunter?” he asked.

I put my scythe away with my good arm and lifted my faceplate. “I’m running. They have Newbie after me though.”

“Good,” he said, shrugging his shoulder in a beckoning gesture, “We’ve got time to talk before she gets here.”

He walked into the forest and I followed after him.

“Greenskin Johnny, huh? You ran two years ago, right?”

“Yeah. I was slowing down too much in-game. They were about to retire me. So I ran.”

“I thought they’d killed you, though. Sylvia shot you in the heart. They got the vitals and everything.”

He raised his right arm as we walked. Where the chain gun should have been was a healed over stump poking out of the armour.

“She shot me all right. I lost the arm but she just missed my heart. It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too.”

We walked and the silence between us filled with the sounds of The Taint. Birds chirped as the crunch of the leaves beneath our feet fell into a rhythm. I took a deep breath and felt the cool air soothe my broken body. The morphine was beginning to wear off, the silver chill of it dissipating.

Johnny stopped, looking back toward the way we’d come.

“She’s coming. The shit around us just got too quiet. There’s a clearing not too far from here and my house is just beyond that. We can make a stand there.”  

We ran together as I fumbled in my pack for another round of Bingo and Energy. We breached the clearing. Vine covered cliffs fed in and out between too tall trees. It was a fun place for a battle and I was pretty sure I could outmaneuver a Lady D who hadn’t figured out wall-crawling yet.

“I’ll go set up behind the bush over there,” Johnny said and pointed his club across the clearing. He ran toward his hiding spot, his breath coming out in jagged gasps, and leaned on his club.

A camera drone roared into the clearing and began circling around me, its engine spitting up dirt and leaves around the clearing. Then came the hum of my pursuer’s cloak, so familiar even through the buzzing of the camera drone.

She came and I ran. I activated my own cloak and burst away from her. We moved through the clearing together, dancing around each other in playful arcs. Even through the adrenalin and knowledge of perma-death, it was still nice to be back doing what I was made for.

She finally attacked me and her blade slid across mine as I blocked. I felt the sting of my injured arm worsen and heard another crack, the limb falling from my scythe to hang by my side. I boosted away from her and toward the wall. She followed behind, the shimmer of her cloak drawing lines of sunlight behind her.

Johnny started hitting grenades then and the forest floor was torn apart. His signature move and the reason for his nickname lit the clearing up, the whack of “golf balls” preceding it. The Blue Bitch sped up.

I hit the cliff face and stepped up it with ease. Behind me followed the newbie and explosions. She’d apparently practiced after the last match; her wall-crawl was sloppy but existent. Behind us the cliff shed rock as Johnny put the heat to her heels.

I twirled and shifted back toward her. The dust from the grenades had overwhelmed her cloak and I could see her face again, just as scared as before. I hung in the air for a moment as my momentum fought my boosters.

“Fuck it.” I said to myself and tackled her, carrying us both into a grenade blast.

The pain in my shoulder flared brighter than the sun as the concussion hit me. I lost my breath and what was left of the two of us fell. I looked down at the ground coming to meet me through a broken visor and closed my eyes.

Johnny rested on his golf club and stared down at me.

“That was stupid, D,” he said.

I tried to push myself up but my arms refused to move.

“Just stay there, If you wiggle it’ll make you bleed worse. I wrapped it up as best I could, but…”

“Where’s the other one?” I felt blood flow from the split in my lip.

“Still in the pile of rocks. The cam’s gone so she’s probably dead,” Johnny pointed his club in line with my legs.

I flexed my arms again and felt my palms clench. I took two deep breaths, put my arm out to catch myself, rolled onto my right side, and kept rolling as my elbow never met ground. Blood smeared across the grass and pain punched through my morphine haze as the thing that used to be my shoulder hit the ground.

“That’s what I was talking about, D. Stay down.”

“She’s just a kid.”

I lifted myself to my knees and static filled the edges of my vision.

“I’ll get her D. Just lay down,” Johnny said.

The dirt tasted just about as good as I imagined it would. As I heard Johnny stomp off to the pile of rubble under the cliff, I enjoyed the feeling of grass on my cheeks. I turned my head and looked at the clearing around me.

Without the visor the world was closer, the light more severe. Glowing flowers lit the clearing and through the break in the trees, I could see tiny lights dancing in the sky. Something big moved far into the foliage around me.

“She’s still breathing,” Johnny said, dragging my clone’s Blue clad body behind him.

Her faceplate was cracked, the flashing light from the broken screen inside illuminating her eyes. I reached over and slid the useless tech off her. Her face was unbroken, except for a small cut under her left eye. Something was wrong, so similar but dissonant to the face I saw in the mirror. I reached out and stroked her short, black hair.

“She’s got a few ribs broken at least and there’s a rock sticking out of her leg that’s like two feet long. I don’t want to take it out ’til I have a proper setup though. There’s no telling how much blood she’s lost.”

Johnny started tearing apart cloth from a bag on his hip and wrapping them around Battering’s chest. She coughed and her eyes fluttered.

“It’s okay. Shhh, just rest,” I said. I grabbed her hand with mine and squeezed it.

She squeezed back. “They’re going to send another one.”

The lights in the sky shrank away as the twilight of dawn rolled across them. I squeezed Big J’s knee as he worked and then slid my hand back to Lady D’s.

“We’ll be ready.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Holly Sophia McCrea is a poet, artist, and short fiction writer from Vancouver BC. She’s been published in The Drabblecast audio fiction magazine and currently has a chapbook available on Amazon.

If you liked this, then you can read more from Holly here.

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305

Fiction: Goblin King Rising

Books & Writing, Culture, Short Fictions

June 23, 2017

Below the homes and below the streets there is a place where vermin dream, where castoffs live and work and breathe – where nothing is what it seems. Here is where the worst go to thrive, where fever dreams are kept alive. The hidden and mad go to ground and sunlight is beaten, broken, drowned.
The Get of Kingu conquered myth and tale, they devastated the sacred veil, bound those creatures to a treaty and placed their children in the Undercity. Down and down go these black roads and the secret stories only they know, the powers that were left to linger smothering every light bringer. Blood is shed and shadows swell and no one knows where bodies fell, they hold their secrets and this truth, they hold the end and blackened youth.
Some children of Kingu live down there, those whose power inspires fear – not powerful enough to hold their own they retreat into the dark and live alone. Or so they think and learn to dread, for here terror lives in waking heads – waking hours offer no respite and sanity doesn’t seem so right. The consequences of taking seed are the children no one ever needs and they are shoved down and left to die but still they breathe and still they strive.
From continents that were torn undone come those who fear the sun, eating dead flesh left to rot; and though they’re here you’d swear they’re not. Their tunnels are below your feet and all around you unseen they creep, a breath on shoulder never felt, the dead their only source of wealth. They fear the living and feed on death, bones knitted beneath their flesh – and though you might think you’re safe there is no escape from that which waits.
But worse that those that feed on death are those that seek to surcease breath, those that bathe in battle’s gore, they born from atrocity and war. Grey skinned they look and ill, muscle like wire driven by will, hair a pale fluttered gray until their knives cut away. It’s pain that feeds them and makes them rise, bathing in viscera freed by knives, covered in insides still steaming, devouring they that die screaming.
From emerald isles across a pond they came, for those called snakes they were to blame, their crimes carried beyond those who could to exile those who understood. Yet down in the dark they found a place and one born of them is their face, a champion anointed upon her brow, called Falciamar she stands unvowed. Her people are the Dearg Capini, the ones who rage and ravage cities, like bomb and mortar they come to kill, like knife and spear with blood to spill.
Yet even they respect the whispering dark, where the Sluagh perfect their art. Led by a coven steeped in rite and never caring for the light; the Sluagh dwell in the darkest places with rarely seen yet pale faces, gaunt and tragic and sunk of eye, they whisper hushes and terrible lies. How could you stand their gaze, they who see the ghostly ways? How could you find their meaning in whispered chalk scratch quiet screaming?
Below them all, the furthest down, the children of Mountain built their town. Brilliant and tied to the core of earth, strong as boulders below the dirt. They stand alone and they stand apart, gifting aid with their art, and those that come on bended knee can here find what they might need.
And past them all and past the stair, there’s one who stands everywhere – the one hunted broke on olden moors, of murmuring madness – the Lord of Doors.
Feeding on scraps and always in danger are the ones their gods made strangers; forever outside and never trusted, their existence makes other disgusted. Call them Goblins if you must, but whisper the word and check the dust. For while they walk about unseen they leave tracks in what’s not clean. So it’s said and so I’ve been told, and wisdom is age and I’m quite old.
They were hunted, hated, and cast down, unwanted by all in the undertown. Staying quite far and staying quite hidden, keeping their secrets and always unbidden. Outside of company and outside the light, not one soul trusting them to be right, their children in the darkness hide and sometimes you can hear them cry to lay the groundwork that others might grieve, so they might betray those who believe.
Give not a Goblin sympathy, for your slavery is what makes them free.
And to this fell Academy came two more Goblin children, two supposed innocents come to be better villains. They stepped into the southern lands and found someone to take by the hand, and one child trusted and one did not, and one become a slave while the other did not. They were not brothers, not age old friends, but Goblins learn to themselves defend, for they are weak and sad when young and those who took them were quite strong.
There is a place above the Undercity, the Academy where walk the pretty, and some of them seek to enslave others and revel in breaking one another. One trusting child to the breaking was took, the other beaten and left bleeding shook – that one escaped down into the dark, to mend the flesh that had been cut apart.
Maricurius was this Goblin’s name, and at that moment he did not know the game. He knew only that a child had been taken and that no one cared and so his soul was shaken. Not even the other Goblins cared, not even when they were made aware that one of their own had been taken for pleasure, that the shattered soul would be another’s treasure.
He begged for food that was not given and stole scraps and rags and plotted sedition: if none would help him save his own he’d venture forth and do it alone. He stole a knife from Falciamar’s pack and ran without looking back. He struggled for food and struggled to eat, found cracked concrete in which to sleep, stole old blankets and stole clothes, stole what he needed to the system oppose.
Stepping into the light he walked unseen, using a Goblin’s gift to fit the scene to scout the place where slaves were taken without alerting any of this break-in. He saw what was done and he saw the locks, he saw as much as he could without shock. He left the place and wretched and sobbed, but then he stood and his tears did daub.
“This is wrong and this will not stand. There must be one to lend a hand.”
But Goblins stand apart and are not to be born, and everyone knew they were forsworn.
He went to the pariahs who hid from their kin, but even they despised what he’d been. He went to the ones who ate the dead and was chased beyond the watershed, down into the depths and into the tunnels, escaping through the sewage funnel.
From there he went to Mountain’s children and they were not pleased with a guest unbidden. “At least that one’s wanted,” they said and smiled, “perhaps you should think on that awhile.” Dejected, he walked towards the slaughter where ruled war’s atrocious daughter. Falciamar saw he carried her knife and hunted him to take his life. He offered it back and offered his breath if she would but follow him into death, but even she would not take his oath and he escaped barely and still alone.
He next sought out the Lord of Doors and pleaded his case without succor. His own people would not give aid and no other could ever be so brave. And so Maricurius went alone to the place with a Goblin’s unseen grace; he steeled himself against every terror and caught the guards unaware. He fought and stabbed and found whom was lost, but too late and too late and life was the cost; all that rage and all that hate and because he was alone he’d come too late.
Dejected, despairing, he walked in lands of light, turning to the Academy’s center in the night. There, every name is writ on a wall and beside every name is a title to call, and Maricurius found to his surprise that his actions had made his name rise – someone was watching and someone approved of what he’d done in the interfluve.
That judge had placed him above his kin, had raised him as Goblins had never been. He stared and stared and got to asking how Goblins had lived in the masking – had they always lived in fear, or was there a life he could commandeer? He walked south towards stacks of books and peered in tomes and in finding looked:
A time had passed when Goblins stood without being beaten, and this time had been in every land and season. What happened was a story worthy of operetta, a tale of woe and bloody vendetta. There’d been a time when Goblins accepted hate, but those that acted upon it met their fate – a Goblin killed meant another life lost as Goblins sought vengeance regardless of cost.
This had ended when the others wanted peace and signed a treaty to make all sides cease the slaughter carried from generations towards a final destination. His people remembered what others forgot, but they’d broken their promise and the Goblins had not. He turned from the book to the knife in his hand, the knife that he’d taken and taken again.
So he moved away from the books and away from that treaty and took all his rage to the Undercity, and there he listened to Goblin’s cries and when he heard those that caused them died. He killed while being hidden and was never seen and the murderous debt was wiped clean, and other Goblins took note of his skill and bound themselves to follow his will.
It did not take long for the others to learn that when you kill a Goblin it’s you that gets burned, and when they sought to attack en masse they found that the Goblins had vanished and passed; who can fight an enemy you cannot see? Can you adapt when bullying is not free?
Maricurius threw the Undercity into uproar, where the powers that be weren’t powers anymore. “Why should there be a price for what we’ve always done? Why disturb what has always been fun? Don’t they know it’s meant to be this way? Why do those we hurt think they’ve something to say?” Abusers do not like to admit doing wrong and do not like to admit they are weak and not strong. The Goblins had found a better way to live and the Undercity shivered to find them combative.
“The natural order has been disturbed, the social contract and unwritten word – why can’t things go back to what they were, when Goblins trembled and we were assured that our way was true and our power was just, when we could satisfy more than lust? How can we show them back to their place when we can no longer see their face? The Goblins are missing, the Goblins are gone, and all this social disruption is wrong.”
Down and down and deeper to Mountain’s children, these abusers now turned their vision. They sought answers in the iron way but those children had nothing to say; they were not willing to pay the Goblin debt, the promise that was as much a threat.
“But your inventions could find the Goblins, yes?”
“Perhaps, but we now know what would come next.”
And Mountain’s children show the signs of pact, the vow’s markings on their back. The Goblins had gone into the depths first and there they’d bargained for what they were worth; Mountain’s children would not interfere and the others were angry to cover their fear.
The Slaugh wailed in their quiet way and turned their magic to saving the day, but they had more and more to dread as the Goblin price promised bloodshed. They could not scream above a whisper when Goblins came from yon and hither and they could not slip from Goblin eyes, whose irises saw through illusions and lies. The shadows could not offer safety but still they thought their secrets may be the way for them to stave off death and rob the Goblins of their breath.
Down in the darkest places they gathered, the coven using fell magics to shatter the will the Goblins had finally found and drive their hopes into the ground, but they never saw the flashing knives that slit their throats and took their lives. Maricurius stood among the dead and demanded that the Slaugh be led – that he would take them under his protection or kill them all for their provocation. And so the Goblin promise accepted, written in flesh and now protected.
“Finally,” said Falciamar of the Dearg Capini, “we have a target in the Undercity.” She led her people against the Slaugh’s kin and with ragged knives they opened skin, bathed in blood and wore their guts and fed their rage fueled by bloodlust, but Maricurius was as good as his word and came to the aid of those put to the sword. Goblins appeared around the Dearg Capini and slaughtered war’s children without pity.
“No, no, step out of where you strike and are hidden,” Falciamar demanded the Goblins be bidden. “Fight fair as I demand and come fight me now, there is no other outcome that I’ll allow!”
Yet the world was silent except for the killing, and the Dearg Capini found their courage slipping. The war was fought with savage pride and they that were mighty were barely alive. When Falciamar next demanded a duel for pact, Maricurius stepped out from where he’d been hidden at last.
“I accept your duel and here are the stakes – if I win then your people must hold and wait until I am dead or until I am gone, your people will slumber, your violence withdrawn.”
“Yes and alright, I accept your terms,” Falciamar said and was about to learn. She drew her sword and washed blood in her hair and so came fighting awake and aware, but Maricurius could not be seen and how does violence fight a dream? He cut her down over hours and hours, slicing her flesh and her fury devoured, but it was not until he threatened to her dismember that she accepted the terms of surrender.
She would face exile into nightmares and screams, her madness haunting sleeping seams – for so long as he ruled and drew breath she would not inflict any more death. Non-interference was the invocation that was demanded by the Goblin nation and Falciamar’s sole choice was to accept and so was driven without recompense.
And now Maricurius came to the eaters of death to discuss the matters of shibboleth. Their leader was a creature who’d learned to think ahead, sometimes taking those who were not quite dead and letting them stay chained and crude until his people needed them for food. Had Maricurius anything to offer they could not take, with patience and jaws and the promise of fate?
“Yes, I have, an offer you’d like,” Maricurius said, putting down his knife. “Bodies to be brought to you should you keep to yourselves, a zero-risk investment of your only wealth. And if you listen to what else I have planned there is no door from which you will be banned.” Curious, the death eaters listened to the plan and took Maricurius by the hand, agreeing to his idea and his terms and fading from sight not to return.
But of the dangers there was one more – the madness called the Lord of Doors.
Maricurius was going to see the wall that had inspired him to change the all, but that meant passing through the frame and that was when I took his name; your narrator was splintered on ancient moors, called Fhioscath to some and the Lord of Doors, and there was none that could stay my hand and my attention turns clay to sand.
He stepped from one place to another and was robbed of all his brothers, all he’d done and all he’d built taken as a sign of guilt. I surrounded him and him alone and kept him from his deserved throne, peering long into his mind and so all he’d hidden I would find – the eyes are doorways to the soul and thought a place where I might stroll.
I stepped inside all Maricurius could ever be and what I found set neither of us at ease – my wanderings had driven others insane but he just stood and learned my name. We walked through all his memories and came to know accessories; he would kill and he would in blood bathe to make a world he felt worthy to save and through his will this is what he’d done, a feat dreamed but never done.
How could I stand in the way of this? I anointed him with my kiss and brought him to the blackened wall where we saw his name would never fall; I promised that I would sleep so long as his will defined the deep. He was lord and he had risen, breaking what had been a cultural prison and from the grime and gore and gritty become the Goblin King of the Undercity.

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LIVE EVENT! Living Myth Live Presents TELL ME YOUR NIGHTMARES

Comedy, Culture, Events, LMM Live, Performance, Showcase

June 20, 2017

We are doing our first live show after a long hiatus of show making… and man is it a doozy!

Tell Me Your Nightmares is a show where we talk about something we all have… NIGHTMARES!

We will be at Seven Dining Loung in Vancouver, BC on July 14th from 7 PM to 11 PM.

There will be special guests and great music by our musical guests The Skeleton Crew

You can have a listen to them below

We will also have two contests! A pyjama contest and an audience nightmare contest. More information will be available on our event page.

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Review: Instant Theatre – Shakespeare After Dark! The Anniversary Show

Comedy, Culture, Events, Improv, Performance, Reviews, Showcase

June 19, 2017

With uproarious laughter and perfect comic timing, the audience was transfixed by what they saw. We had an audience with “The Bard” himself, Bartitsu and rapier fighting by Affair of Honor, an Elizabethan complements contest, an insult battle with pirate ships and pickle juice as the main insult components and Matheson the best drunk thespian they could summon.  Shakespeare After Dark is very close to being sorcery on its own, but they pull some serious magic Saturday night.  We can’t say this enough but this is absolutely some of the best improv you can see in the city.

Good and gentle bards soothed us with classic chamber music throughout the evening. Photo Credit Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Producer Chelsey Stuyt welcomes the audience and introduces us to the players. Photo Credit Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Joel Cottingham as William Shakespeare was our host! “I might call him / A thing divine, for nothing natural / I ever saw so noble.” – The Tempest Photo Credit Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

A packed house! Full of merry gentles! Photo Credit Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Affair of Honor showing us stunningly choreographed Bartitsu Photo Credit Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

A fair maiden receiving compliments Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

They were wooing her real good Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Pirates vs. Pickle Juice might foes in insults Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Affair of Honor and their endless rapier duel Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

It would be Shakespeare After Dark without a drunk actor. Matheson was our man of the evening. Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

“I’M A DRAGON” Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

A man armed with mead is as dangerous as a man armed with sword Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Like all good Shakespearean tragedies… There is a lot of death. Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Like … a lot of death… Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Did we mention there was death? Because there was. Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Standing Ovation! Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Chelsey bidding us a gentle night and merry revelry. Photo Credit By Peter Joseph for Living Myth Magazine

Our contest winners enjoying alcohol and snacks!

Congratulations Instant Theatre on a successful and hilarious Shakespeare After Dark!  If you want to catch their next show it will be at The Havana on July 22nd.

 

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