The Lasso 01: Wonder Woman Movie Chat

The Lasso 01: Wonder Woman Movie Chat

SOMETHING WONDERFUL IS HAPPENING!

In an early release preview of the Not Saf For Work podcast network, join your new hosts and friends Mike and Maia in their first episode of The Lasso Podcast as they discuss & review the new Wonder Woman film directed by Patty Jenkins, starring Gal Gadot and Chris Pine! Follow on Twitter @TheLassoPod.

This is a special preview episode of The Lasso Pod and the Not Saf For Work podcast network, set to launch on July 1! For more information follow @nsfwpodcasts or sign up to the mailing list!

Podcast Spotlight: The Lasso, A Wonder Woman Podcast

Podcast Spotlight: The Lasso, A Wonder Woman Podcast

With the Not Saf For Work podcast network launching next month on July 1st, it’s time to talk a little about the podcasts that will be featuring on the network! First up: The Lasso, a discussion show about one of the greatest women known on Earth and beyond, Wonder Woman.

With a rich 75 year history, Wonder Woman has always stood for truth, justice, and love. Covering everything from comics to animation to the silver screen, The Lasso is your one stop shop for discussion, reviews, and perspectives on Diana of Themyscira.

The world’s greatest superheroine has left an undeniable impact on not only pop culture, but our society as a whole. Join Mike and Maia as they celebrate all things wonderful about Wonder Woman!

The Lasso is a podcast for DC newbies, old Diana fans, and anyone in-between who loves good conversations about Wonder Woman. Episodes will come out with comics and other Wonder Woman-related releases.

Your Hosts

Mike Audette is a relatively new Wonder Woman fan coming in with a fresh perspective. He may be newer here, but his love for Diana is true. Mike isn’t new to fandom in general though, and can be found heavily involved with Star Wars blogging and podcasting! He tweets at @mike_audette and writes for Coffee With Kenobi.

Maia is a queer FilAm geek of all trades who spends too much time yelling on twitter @semirose. Maia also writes for her blog, Fire Bee Fights and is the facilitator of upcoming podcast Halo-Halo Happy Hour which features round table conversations by mixed race people.

Where to listen??

The first special review episode of The Lasso discussing the Wonder Woman film is out now on iTunes, Podbean and Feedburner, so be sure to listen, subscribe, and write a review. Follow their Twitter for news and Wondie goodness.

If you want to stay up to date with NSFW Podcast news leading up to the launch, follow us on Twitter or sign up to our Mailing List. You can also subscribe to the NSFW main feed on iTunes, Podbean and Feedburner. New episodes for The Lasso and other shows will be live on the main feed on July 1st!

Short Story: Blue

This story was a short fiction commission. More info can be found here.


Christina breathes in the spiced scent of growing herbs as she stares out into the star-streaked space beyond the glass. Her breath, caught by awe, reminds her where she is with startling clarity: leaving home in a metal pocket of air, with only the starry void ahead. Of course she’s been on ships before, but never anything long-haul. Not like this. Prepared for six months of life, the spaceliner she’s found herself residing in is massive—and even, she quickly discovered, fitted with a large communal garden filling a dome that faces out onto space.

She’s not alone in the garden. A robot, pale blue and asymmetrically almost-humanoid, crouches beside a green tomato plant nearby, an electronic humming floating from its vocalizer. The robot seems to notice her attention, though it doesn’t look up.

Read More

Tourist | Twelve

Tourist | Twelve

Content warnings for alcohol, suicide, allusions to sexual violence.


If there’s one person I never want to see when I wake, it’s Sam. So when I open my eyes to her sitting at an unfamiliar desk in an unfamiliar room, her back to me, my first reaction isn’t confusion. It’s a sudden exhaustion at the unfairness of the world to place me somewhere so obviously hers.

The room is a mess. Creased clothes tossed over every surface, at least three mugs on the desk, photos peeling from where they were stuck to the wall with gaps showing where pictures have already fallen into the chaos of the room. What sticks out most of all is a jar filled with half-dead flowers beside Sam. There’s enough life in them still to justify keeping them, but I can’t help but feel that the room itself is pulling the flowers closer to death. The limp, purple blossoms lean away from Sam as if trying to escape her anger—her room’s atrophying presence.

Or maybe that’s just how things are when you’re organic. Flowers die. Sam loses Lissa. I continue existing.

Read More

Look At Me Talk About Things

Look At Me Talk About Things

Hey all!

I’ve been a little (a lot) absent from my site (and other places) for the past month and a half for a couple specific reasons: travel, health, and organizing podcast things. I went to Canada, USA, Wellington, Australia, and then came home to be diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. It’s been an intense few weeks! But more on that stuff later.

For now, here are the recordings of the talks and panels I did while travelling and some little write-ups about the events I was lucky enough to experience. Travelling for a month and being accepted to speak at multiple events was a huge privilege, and though I’m paying for it now with my health, I wouldn’t have had April any other way.

Play By Play

Read More

Intermission: From the Plane Window

Intermission: From the Plane Window

There’s a reason I like the window seat: sometimes I see some cool stuff. Flying over the States had some rad views—at least when the sky wasn’t filled with clouds.

This gallery is something a little different, just a tiny break between me flying to Sydney and sorting through the other hundreds of photos on my card. Be back to normal soon!


Like my photography? Want to see my process? Support me on Patreon!

patreon.png

Tourist Hiatus

Tourist Hiatus

Hi all! Tourist will be on a month long hiatus while I travel, and will return on the 5th of May for its final two chapters (+ epilogue)! In the meantime, I’ll try to update the site with a gallery or two from my travels. Hope you all have a great April, and look forward to Tourist’s conclusion in a month!

xo Saf

Tourist | Eleven

Tourist | Eleven

“I’m so tired, all day, every day. I could sleep for a week and still need more. It’s as endless as the night sky, and about as bright. Everyone’s always like, ‘Wow, you look so tired!’ Yes, well, I sure feel tired, too. Even moreso now.

Today was the day: I got my results from school. Guess what? I failed! I completely blew my chance at getting into biomed next year. Completely knocked myself off of my future path in one fell swoop. All at once the ground is falling from beneath my feet, and I—

I don’t know what to do anymore. What do I do with myself now? This is everything I’ve been working towards, and I couldn’t even do it. I couldn’t do it!

On the way home I bought a bottle of rum from the store. Don’t judge me—what else do I have going for me now, anyway? I won’t drink much, I know I’m already spiralling. I’ll be good, I’m even going to Chase’s later, and he’ll cheer me up and make sure I don’t accidentally hurt myself. So much for Sam saying he’s a terrible influence, at least he tries to help me. What does she do? If I tell her about failing my classes, she’ll just rub it in my face, maybe start another fight with me. I don’t have anyone left to turn to except Chase and Audrey, not even my parents. It feels so long since Grey was Dad and we could actually talk about things that made me sad. Now, I’m just scared of him.

So, I don’t know, I’ll tell him later. Next week, when I’m feeling better, maybe. If I ever feel better again.

What do I do now? Where do I go? How do I fix this? I know I can fix this, if only someone would tell me how.”

Read More

Tourist | Ten

Tourist | Ten

“They’re lying,” I say. Sam blinks at me, her foot tapping beneath the table.

“Who’s lying?” she asks.

“Chase.” I sigh, her foot stills. “And Audrey. They’ve both been lying to me.”

She takes a moment to figure out what I’m saying, her lips pressing together tightly. “You’ve been talking to Chase?”

“I thought it would help me figure out if he did it.”

She laughs. “Of course he’s been lying to you. Lying is what he does, even if he seems all nice and charming as he does it. Don’t know who Audrey is, but if she’s his friend I bet they’re the same.”

“Audrey was Lissa’s friend, too. She’s an artificial,” I say.

“What?” Sam asks, her tone flat and dangerous. “Lissa didn’t have any artificial friends.”

I wave a hand at her, saying, “Hang on, we’re getting away from what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Which is?”

“Chase and Audrey have both been lying about why Emily attacked Lissa. They said it was because she was friends with Audrey, and because Emily thought Chase was in love with Audrey.”

“What does it matter who Emily thought Chase liked?” Sam asks. Her foot has gone back to tapping, more furiously than before.

“It matters because that’s not true, Emily never thought it was Audrey. Chase knows Emily attacked Lissa because he liked her. He’s lying either to protect Emily, or to protect himself. Both scenarios beg the question of why he’s lying to me.”

Sam tilts her head, her eyes catching the sunlight through the window. “Okay, you’ve lost me. For one thing, how do you know that Chase is lying? For another, how do you know Emily thought he was in love with Lissa?” Her hair bounces with a head-shake. “Besides, Chase never loved Lissa. This whole thing is stupid.”

“I know because of this,” I say, and I place Lissa’s phone on the table between us. At the sight of it, Sam’s eyes widen, her hand flying to her chest.

“What—?” she asks, choking on her words. “That’s—?”

“That’s Lissa’s phone. Her mother gave it to me,” I say. I keep my hand on the phone, worried Sam will grab it and run far away. Her eyes flash.

“You’ve had her phone this long and didn’t tell me? You had no right!”

“Actually,” I say, forcing myself to stay calm in the face of Sam’s rising anger, “I had every right. The phone was given to me by her mother. It only unlocks with my fingerprint. You’ve shown me every step of the way that we’re not friends, Sam. You’re not the only one who gets to hide things.”

“You didn’t even know her,” Sam says. “Why should you get her phone? You’re nothing but a lying ersatz, just wanting to steal her life.”

“I don’t want her life,” I say, keeping my voice soft. “I want my own life, as does every other ersatz. You dragged me into this, and now I’m here, and—” I raise my voice slightly “—I’m trying to tell you that Chase is lying about why Lissa was hurt.”

“Fuck.” She slams her hands on the table. “What the fuck? I see why people say your lot don’t have any empathy.”

Pressing my thumb and a finger to my temples, I let out a deep breath. Cruel, heartless words spring to the tip of my tongue, and I think of how good it would feel to say them, of how delicious it would be to let some of this anger free. Lissa didn’t want you around anymore. Lissa thought you were ruining your life. Lissa wanted Chase more than you.

“Lissa needs you still,” I say. “She kept an audio journal, and there’s a recording she took the night she got home from the hospital. It proves what I’m saying—maybe it shows that Emily had something to do with her death. She was at Lissa’s house the night she died, right?”

Sam fumes for a moment more, her nostrils flaring. I pull earphones from my pocket and place them beside the phone as I pretend to not notice the tears lining her eyes.

“Just listen to this with me, okay?” I ask. “You can hate me all you want, but I need you to help me with this, because I’m still trying to help you.”

She exhales sharply, then grabs one of the earbuds with a quick, “Fine.”

Pressing the other earbud into my ear, I unlock the phone and press the play button for the file. Lissa’s voice bursts to life in my head. Sam gasps, her breath catching with the sound of heartbreak.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Lissa says—she said, long ago, into the phone’s microphone. Her words slur.

Read More

Revisions

Revisions

Written for an assignment, an experiment inspired by the novel Version Control. Somewhat of an homage to the ideas that the novel handles with far more eloquence.


She knew the world had gone wrong, had flipped upside-down. She could taste it in the air, feel it in the soft vibrations of the car’s engine—like being barely-aware in a dream. It had been like this for months, as if she were perpetually poised with her foot held high, expecting another stair but finding only thin air.

The first and only time Amelia tried to talk to her mother—the scientist, Dr. Tima—about the feeling was the night before her graduation, half an hour before the dinner party. Her mother, a woman without much love for feelings over fact—the latter of which Amelia lacked—looked up at her distractedly from her notebook.

“I don’t understand,” said Tima. She rubbed at her temple, her sleepless nights staining her eyelids with dark pigments. She was on a deadline, the machine she’d spent the last decade on still stubbornly refusing to work. It weighed her down. “Are you sick?”

“I’m not sick.” Amelia picked at her fingernails. “It’s the world that’s sick.”

“Oh. Global warming, then.”

“That’s not what I—” She threw her hands up, feeling too much like a teenager. “It’s like when you go to fix your glasses on your face, but you’re not wearing them.”

“Honey, I don’t wear glasses,” Tima said idly, barely paying attention to her daughter anymore. “Maybe you just need some more sleep.”

You’re the one who needs sleep, Amelia thought, bitterly, remembering her mother of a year prior, before Astoria died. A mother who didn’t spend her entire life at the lab working on a time machine, a mother who smiled and laughed and took the sisters out for brunch on Sundays.

Scorned, Amelia muttered, “Astoria would’ve understood.”

Those three words cut through the air like a knife. Amelia instantly wished she could go back in time to take them back. Face contorted with a pain still too intense to hide, Tima laid down her pen and fixed Amelia with her metal-grey eyes.

“Amelia,” Tima started, but her daughter was already out of her seat and halfway out of the kitchen. “Honey, come back—”

“I’m going to finish cleaning the lounge,” Amelia said, her back turned to hide her brimming eyes.

Not another word was spoken between mother and daughter until the guests arrived, and even then their conversations were terse. While Tima’s co-workers spoke to her about her work, Amelia pretended to listen with rapt attention as if she didn’t resent the machine for Tima’s distance—or for her twin’s death. When her mother’s colleagues shook Amelia’s hand and patted her shoulder, congratulating her on a successful graduation, she hid her bitter anxiety behind a practiced smile. One she had learned in the weeks following the crash.

Her friends noticed, but they knew better than to ask.

Only once the house had cleared and she’d buried herself in blankets did she let her mind drift back; a summer day, hair blowing in the motorway wind, excitement from seeing her mother’s work bubbling within her chest. The steering wheel was hot beneath her hands, though she didn’t actually need it, the car drove itself—but it never hurt to be too careful. A phrase Tima had murmured to them since they were young.

She remembered it all with more clarity than any other moment in her life: the moment the dog bounded out into the road, followed by a child. When the cars before of them swerved to avoid the child and Amelia’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, yanking right.

After, as she lay half-sedated in a hospital bed, they told her, “It wasn’t your fault.” They: nurses, police, therapists, her own mother. There was nothing you could do, as if that lifted the guilt crushing her lungs.

 

Read More