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roosterforme · 1 year

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Scenic Route | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You can't wait to head back to the east coast for Christmas with your husband and your parents. But when your travel plans start to unravel, Bradley shows you what's really important. And you remember you already have everything you really need no matter where you are.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and mentions of smut

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series! (But it can be read on its own) Check my masterlist in my profile for the reading order!

"All I want for Christmas is four days off from work, a little bit of snow, and your dick with a bow on it," you told your husband with a smile as you got in bed. You had an early flight to Maryland to visit your parents the next morning, and you hadn't seen them since your wedding last month.

Bradley shook his head. "No way I'm putting a bow on my dick at your parents' house."

You pouted at him as you took your glasses off and set them on your nightstand. "Wow. Next you'll be telling me that Santa Claus isn't even real."

"Oh, Sweetheart," he rasped, pulling you close. "I've got some bad news for you."

"Don't you dare say it!" you scolded, holding his lips shut. "I won't stand for that! When we have kids, are you going to try to ruin it for them, too?"

You released his lips while he burst out laughing. "I was going to say that the bad news is there's no snow in the forecast in Maryland."

"Oh," you sighed, cuddling up with him. "Well, I can deal with that as long as Santa is still real."

A handful of hours later, when your alarm was going off, you moaned and practically crawled into the bathroom.

"Hurry up," Bradley kept urging as you washed your face and brushed your teeth. "Airport parking is going to be a mess."

You rolled your eyes at him in the mirror, but he kept following you around until you were walking out to the driveway with your luggage and a travel mug of coffee. The only time he would agree to taking your car anywhere was when it was in an effort to protect the Bronco. So you drove him to the airport in your little car so the Bronco wouldn't 'get dinged up in the parking garage'.

"You know what I'd love to get you for Christmas, Sweetheart? A new car."

You smiled as he shifted around in the front seat. It was almost amusing how much he hated your little car, but you loved it.

"This one is perfectly fine," you promised as you pulled into the parking garage at the airport.

He shot you a playfully unamused look as he unfolded his legs to climb out of the car and start gathering the luggage. But the look of displeasure was no longer playful as you followed him into the airport.

"Our flight's delayed," he said with a sigh as he looked up at the departures screen.

"No!" you groaned. "I'll text my parents and let them know while you check the bags."

But as soon as you hit send and watched your suitcase disappear from view, you noticed that your flight had been cancelled.

"Bradley!" you called, pointing to the screen as he walked back over to you.

"Oh, fuck," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Stay here, Baby Girl." He turned back toward the airline agent while you called your parents.

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

Bradley managed to sweet talk a new itinerary out of the young woman who worked for the airline. And he wasn't necessarily proud of himself.

"Hi, Ava. That's such a pretty name," he said with a smile, watching her blush a bright shade of pink. "Is there anything you can do for me about this flight to Baltimore?"

She looked flustered now as she checked her computer screen. "There aren't that many options. This is because of all the snowstorms in the middle of the country, sir."

"You can call me Bradley."

"Bradley," she said with a smile. "I could reroute you to Denver first and then Atlanta and then into Baltimore?"

"That would be great," he said smoothly. "Anything you can do to make Maryland happen." He glanced over his shoulder to where you were talking on the phone and pacing around. The line behind him had started to grow with people dealing with cancelled flights, so he knew he needed to rebook these seats while he still could.

"I would be happy to do that for you, Bradley," she replied with a grin. "Oh, you have two seats under your reservation?"

"Yes," he told her as he watched you pace away again with your phone pressed to your ear. "For my wife and I."

"Oh," she said with a sigh before printing him out new boarding passes and handing them to him without another word.

"Thanks, Ava. Happy holidays."

Bradley rushed over to you and laced his fingers with yours. "Let's go. Only have a few minutes to get on our flight to Denver."

You sputtered but started to walk briskly along with him, smiling up at him as you spoke into your phone. "Dad, Bradley got us on a new flight! I'll call you back, okay?"

"Come on," he urged, and then you and he were rushing toward security before it started to get crowded.

"How did you do that?" you asked, wrapping your arms around his waist as you waited in line for your turn.

He kissed your forehead and whispered, "You don't want to know."

But you just laughed and nuzzled your face against his neck. "You either threatened someone or flirted with someone. Either way, good work, Roo."

"Honestly... the things I do for you."

When the two of you were the last passengers to board the flight to Denver before they closed the gate, you looked at him in surprise and went all the way back to your seats in the last row. "That was close," you whispered, taking the middle seat and snuggling up against his shoulder.

"I just hope our luggage gets there," he replied.

But soon enough, that was the least of his concerns. Because halfway through the flight, he was jolted awake by an announcement.

"This is your captain speaking. Because of weather related issues in Colorado, we will be rerouting to Dallas/Fort Worth."

"Shit," Bradley hissed as you and he shared a look of annoyance. "It's okay. We'll figure it out."

"Get ready to start flirting some more," you mumbled, taking his hand in yours.

When you and he deboarded in Texas, the entire airport appeared to be packed wall to wall with people. The flight announcement boards were all flashing with DELAYED or CANCELLED.

"What should we do?" you asked, but he was already calling the airline.

"Get ready to start sweet talking, Baby Girl," he told you. "It might take both of us."

"But that's your specialty," you said with a sigh. "I'll go search for something to eat, you stay here on the phone." Bradley kissed you before you wandered off through the crowds. He was tired. He knew you must be as well. But the most important thing was getting you to Maryland to spend the holiday with your parents. They were the only close family either of you had.

After talking to three different people on the phone, Bradley managed to get two middle seats on a flight to Memphis. He reasoned that at least you'd be heading in the right direction, as most eastbound flights were being cancelled for snow.

When you eventually returned with two coffees and a bag with sandwiches and snacks, he waved you over to the single seat he claimed. "Come here," he told you, patting his thigh so you had somewhere to sit. "We're going to Memphis, but we have a bit of a wait."

As soon as you were in his lap, he felt better. And when you handed him a sandwich, he felt great. "That's all they had left," you told him as you opened a bag of chips.

"It's perfect," he told you as he finished it in four bites. "You know there's a house for sale two streets behind ours, right? Get your parents to move there. It would be easier than this shit."

You sipped your coffee and then smiled at him. "You think my mom hasn't mentioned that to me already? She checks the San Diego real estate listings online all the time."

"Huh," Bradley said. He had been half joking, but he didn't hate the idea of having your parents nearby, in or around San Diego. It would certainly cut down on this kind of stress. And he could tell that you were getting antsy now as your eyes kept looking up over his head to see which flights had been cancelled.

"There's an elderly man standing over there," Bradley told you, patting your hip. "Why don't you go tell him he can sit here, and we can walk around instead."

"Okay," you replied, and Bradley watched as you walked up and introduced yourself to the older man with a cane and hearing aids. When you helped him make his way over to the seat, Bradley stood so he could sit down.

"Are you alone, Marvin?" you asked, letting him hold your hand until he was settled down into the seat.

"No, my daughter is with me. She went to wait in line for food a while ago. We're trying to go to San Diego."

You laughed and dug around in your bag. "Figures. We just left San Diego. And you can have the other half of my sandwich while you wait for her. The food lines are getting outrageously long."

"Thank you," he mumbled, taking the wrapped up sandwich and turning to Bradley. "Your wife is very sweet."

Bradley nodded at him and said, "She's everything," earning a brilliant smile from you in the process. "Happy holidays, Marvin."

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You fell asleep in the Dallas/Fort Worth airport while you were standing up in Bradley's arms. It wasn't a very good nap, but you didn't get to sleep at all on the flight to Memphis which was filled with irate travelers and miserable children. You shoved your headphones in to avoid listening to the woman next to you complaining. This flight had been delayed several times, and you were happy to just be in the air again.

Bradley was a few rows in front of you, in between two people who did not look happy to have someone so tall between them. But he occasionally turned around to smile at you, and you mouthed I love you to him each time.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," you gasped when you arrived in Memphis late on Christmas Eve only to find that all outbound flights had been grounded for the night. You felt the panic rise up inside you. "We were supposed to arrive in Baltimore yesterday," you said softly as Bradley wrapped his arms around you.

"It's okay," he said calmly. "It's late, but let's just text your dad and let them know where we are."

"We don't even have another flight booked, Bradley. We are going to have to spend Christmas in the Memphis airport." You could feel tears in your eyes, and you felt ridiculous as one of them fell to your cheek. "It's our first holiday married."

"I know, Sweetheart," he said as he wiped your tears away. But he was already on the phone again as he pointed you to an empty seat across the walkway. "I'll take care of it."

You carried your bag to the lone empty seat and plopped down while you sent a text. Your stomach was growling loudly, but there was nothing around except for shitty vending machines. Your phone rang as your dad called you, and you answered with a sob.

"Hi, dad."

"You're in Memphis now?"

"Yeah. It's almost midnight here. Merry Christmas," you told him softly.

"Listen, when you get here, you get here. Just be safe, and call when you're in Baltimore, okay? We're only thirty minutes from the airport, so whenever you land, I'll leave to come get you."

"Okay," you said, already crying again. "I love you."

When Bradley walked over and scooped you up out of the seat, he looked pleasantly happy. "Why are you smiling so much?" you asked as he settled down with you curled up on his lap.

"Because I have all good news, Baby Girl."

"Okay. Spill."

He kissed your temple and said, "We have a flight to Raleigh that leaves at noon. And we have some sort of rental car waiting for us there. And then it's just a five hour drive to your parents' house. I also got us some Doritos to enjoy together along with a Wild Cherry Pepsi."

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Was the vending machine almost empty?"

"Sure was. There were zero options, but I'm fucking starving."

"Thanks for taking care of everything," you whispered as he fed you a chip. "You're wonderful."

"I'm only wonderful because of you," he replied, kissing your nose. "Now eat your fancy Christmas Eve dinner and try to get some sleep."

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Bradley held you in his lap all night as you dozed on and off. His left leg was asleep, and he hadn't been able to relax enough to get a nap, but that was fine. It was noisy here, even at two in the morning. This somehow reminded him of his first time on an aircraft carrier; he was dying to sleep but just couldn't. But he didn't have anything as nice as you in his life when he experienced that twelve years ago.

You sighed and pressed your lips to his neck as you slept, and he closed his eyes, memorizing how fucking good this felt. He was sure you'd disagree. The two of you were smashed between two families who were also trying to get a little rest, and there was an announcement going over the intercom. It was a little chilly in here, and Bradley was hungry enough to eat those nasty unsalted pretzels you liked so much. This wasn't the nicest way to spend Christmas morning. Not when you'd been expecting to be with your mom and dad.

But Bradley was so happy. You and he were married. You were together. He wasn't deployed. And you had your left hand planted against his chest where he could look at the rings he had given you. This was great. He'd be happy to do this every year with you.

You stretched and arched your back, and Bradley was finally able to shift his left leg to try to alleviate the sensation of pins and needles. "I had a dream," you whispered, "that Tramp ate Penny's turkey off the kitchen counter and they said they were never going to dogsit for us again."

Bradley laughed as he held you tight and kissed your hair. "Nah, he'll be a saint for Amelia. She takes him on a beach walk every day when he's there."

"That's true," you whispered before kissing his lips. "I'm sorry I've been cranky, Roo."

"Don't apologize," he said softly as you switched to sit on his right thigh. "This is not ideal."

"I know," you agreed, running your fingers along his mustache and his scarred cheek. "But we're together. Merry Christmas."

He pulled you close so your forehead rested against his. "I thought up a fun idea. Wanna hear it?"

"Yes."

He smiled and told you, "Let's walk around to all the vending machines and see what we can find. It'll be like opening presents together next to the tree at your parents' house."

Your laughter was so loud, you had to cover your mouth as you nodded. "Sounds so fun. Let's go."

The two of you scoured every corner of each of the terminals in the Memphis airport together until you had located eight different vending machines. Bradley watched you jump up and down when you found a bag of unsalted pretzels. "I love these things!" you said biting into one and then feeding him the rest of it.

"We got some good shit, Baby Girl." Then you and he sat side by side and ate everything as you watched a light snow falling outside. When Bradley finished drinking a bottle of ginger ale, he said, "If we have to sleep here again, those benches over in Terminal A looked classy as hell."

You nodded as you finished a bag of popcorn. "Just like our bed at home."

"You know it," he said, kissing your cheek before he stood to throw away all of the trash. Then he heard an announcement for your flight to Raleigh to start boarding, and he pulled you up to your feet. "Let's get out of here while he still can."

He carried your bag for you, and with a little luck, this flight actually took off on time. And Bradley fell asleep on your shoulder while you ran your fingers softly through his hair.

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

"I love it!" you shouted in the freezing cold rental car lot in Raleigh. "It's just like my car!"

Bradley groaned and tossed your bag onto the backseat. "Every time we get a rental car, we just get the newest model year of your little shit mobile!"

"It's even red!" you said, laughing right at him. "I'll drive. I'm going to like it so much, I'll just get a new one to replace my car when it dies in like ten more years."

"No," he said. "I'll drive. I don't want you getting any ideas." He steered you around to the passenger side door and opened it for you before he buckled you in. Every time you tried to complain, he kissed your lips until you were sighing and digging your fingers into his hair.

"Are you trying to get me to fuck you in the backseat or something?" you whispered against his lips before he stood and looked down at you in the passenger seat.

"First of all, no, I'm trying to get us to your parents' house. And second, no, because we wouldn't both fit. I don't even think you could get a car seat back there," he said with a pointed look before he closed the door and walked around to the driver's seat.

"A car seat," you muttered as you adjusted the radio to play some Christmas music as he pulled out onto the road.

"You heard me, Baby Girl."

You were hopeful. You really were, but you were trying not to dwell on it, at least not today. Bradley drove for a few hours into the dim evening dusk, and you offered so many times to switch seats with him. But he just kept telling you to feed him some of the vending machine snacks and keep the Christmas music playing.

When you texted your parents to let them know what was going on, you knew they would be waiting for you. But they really went above and beyond. You texted them when you were about twenty minutes away, and when Bradley pulled the little red car into the driveway at eight at night, they came running outside.

"You must both be so hungry!" your mom said, rubbing her hands together, brow pinched with stress. "Dinner is ready. I just took it all out of the oven."

"You didn't have to wait for us to eat," Bradley told her as she hugged him.

"Nonsense! We'd wait until tomorrow if we needed to!" she told him before kissing both of your cheeks. "Now get inside, it's freezing."

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

Bradley managed to sneak into the bathroom and into the shower with you around midnight. The four of you had enjoyed one of the best dinners he could ever remember eating. Then your parents had spoiled the two of you with gifts, including a new bed for Tramp. And now you and he were about to change into some borrowed pajamas after finally getting showered.

"I really hope our luggage shows up back at home at some point," you said as you removed Bradley's shirt.

"It will," he said, helping you strip down and climb under the stream of steamy water. Both of you groaned in pleasure and then laughed.

"I already feel so much better," you muttered as he started washing your body, paying extra attention to your breasts.

"Wash my hair?" he asked you, flashing his big, brown eyes.

"Always," you promised, and he melted into your touch. "You know, Roo, this day was actually kind of fun. The vending machine Christmas gifts, and the rental car sing along. And then finally getting to eat dinner."

"It was perfect," he told you.

You laughed. "Well, that might be a stretch, but I think-"

"It was perfect," he insisted. "I spent my day with you. And we got to see your parents. That was all I was really hoping for. But on top of that, you're my wife. And marrying you has been the best thing that happened to me this year. So today was perfect."

Bradley could tell even as the shower spray wet your face that you were starting to cry. "I love you."

"I love you, too. And even though we only get to spend one day with your parents before flying back to San Diego, I wouldn't change being with you for anything else."

The two of you were wrapped up in towels and stumbling out of the bathroom, laughing quietly together when you almost bumped right into your mom.

"I thought you were in bed!" you told her, holding your towel in place, and Bradley had never felt as naked as he did with this damp towel around his waist.

"Your dad needed his blood pressure medication from the kitchen," she replied with a smirk on her face. "Why are you looking at me like that? You're married. I know you two are having sex."

"Oh, god," you groaned, leaning back against Bradley, covering your eyes.

"We didn't..." he started. "Not in the bathroom..." he added. "Good night!" he said, slipping past you into the room you and he were going to be sharing. And when he looked back at you and your mom before he closed the door, you looked scandalized.

He laughed quietly to himself as he pulled on the random assortment of clothing your dad was letting him wear since the luggage was currently lost. When you came in a few minutes later, still in your wet towel, he was laying in bed waiting for you.

"You bailed on me!" you hissed, tossing the towel at him and standing there naked. "We made wedding vows, Bradley!"

He caught the towel and tossed it onto the floor as he reached his hands out for you. "Why don't you come over here, and I'll make everything better?"

You climbed into bed next to him, and he wrapped his arms around you to keep you warm. "Roo, she asked me if you and I are having unprotected sex." Bradley snorted as you groaned. "She wants to know if you're giving me creampies, because she wants grandchildren!"

Bradley burst out laughing. "She actually said that?"

"Not those exact words, but you know what I mean!"

"Well, Merry Christmas, mom," he said softly while he tried to contain his laughter. "We're working on it."

You buried your head under the pillow, and Bradley had to coax you out with some kisses. "Can I have my Christmas present now?" he asked once you were draped across his chest with your fingers in his hair and your lips on his neck.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I'm about to give it to you."

Bradley stroked his fingers along your cheek so that you were looking at him. "You already give me everything, Baby Girl. You know that, right?"

You pressed your lips together and nodded. "Me and you."

"I love it," he promised as your lips met his again.

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"Okay, so this has kind of been a disaster," you told Bradley as you finally boarded your delayed flight back to San Diego the next night. "But also, I sort of loved this?"

"Best Christmas ever," he whispered, slipping into the seat next to yours and grabbing both ends of your seatbelt. Then he snapped them closed and tightened the strap, just like he always did. He even always buckled you in the Bronco. You were so used to all these little things now. You just looked at him for a few moments, and he looked back as a smile found his lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Well, I learned a lot about you over the past few days," you told him as the flight attendants closed the overhead compartments.

"And?" he prompted, linking his fingers with yours.

"I think you might be perfect," you informed him seriously. "You took care of everything in all the airports so I didn't have to worry. You made sure that sweet, old man had somewhere to sit."

"Marvin," Bradley interjected.

"Yes, Marvin. You held me while I napped. You made sure we ate. You played vending machine Christmas gift roulette with me. You drove the rental car. You made my parents happy. And, plus, you keep doing all the little things that you always do. Like hold my hand the perfect way so my wrist doesn't hurt, and buckle my seatbelt for me. You're perfect."

He looked at you. "You take care of me all the time, Sweetheart. I like taking care of you, too. That's just... what I always do."

You nodded and snuggled against his arm as the plane took off, taking you home to San Diego. "Keep on doing it, Roo. Please."

"I'm planning on it, Baby Girl."

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Roo takes care of BG, and BG takes care of Roo. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

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mydaddywiki · 19 days

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Ralph Friedgen

Physique: Heavyset Build

Ralph Harry Friedgen (born April 4, 1947-) is a former American football coach. He was most recently the special assistant coach for Rutgers in 2015 after serving as their offensive coordinator in the 2014 season. He was the head coach at the University of Maryland, College Park from 2000 to 2010. Friedgen was previously an offensive coordinator at Maryland, Georgia Tech, and in the NFL with the San Diego Chargers.

Affectionately known as “The Fridge” because, well he's a big daddy with chubby fingers, cute face, chubby cheeks, big belly, big thighs and calves. But wow… the filthy things I would do to this man. What? You know I love the big ones.

A native of Harrison, N.Y., Friedgen has been married since 1973 with three daughters.

Head Coaching Record Overall 75–50 Bowls 5–2

Accomplishments and Honors Championships: 1 ACC (2001) Awards: Broyles Award (1999), AFCA COY (2001), Associated Press COY (2001), Eddie Robinson COY (2001), George Munger Award (2001), Home Depot COY (2001), Sporting News COY (2001), Walter Camp COY (2001), Woody Hayes Trophy (2001), Bobby Dodd COY (2001), 2× ACC Coach of the Year (2001, 2010)

#mydaddywiki sports figures #football coach #Ralph Friedgen

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harlowcomehome · 9 months

Text

Boat rides & future conversations:

Series link.

Now that things were calm and you felt like you could breathe again, you realized it was time to take some much-needed time off of work. You had a ton of vacation days available, being a workaholic and all.

Since Jack was in your life, you finally had a reason to use them other than visiting your family back home.

You flew to meet Jack in Maryland, and he immediately had a surprise in store for you. When you got to the hotel room he was noticeably anxious and rushing you out of the door.

“Are you sure? You’re not tired?” You asked as he embraced you, and took your bags, placing them in the closet.

“I’m fine! I’ve had this planned and I’m excited” he reassured you, rubbing his thumb against the top of your hand as he held it tightly.

“You’re going to need something warm to wear” he handed you one of his NB hoodies, knowing he likely wouldn’t get it back but he didn’t mind.

You eyed his clothing up and down, making sure he was dressed warm too.

He wouldn’t tell you where you were going, but you didn’t mind. Maryland had scenery you didn’t usually get to see. You took a few photos with your cell phone before putting it back in your pocket.

“Wow- you don’t even want to take cute photos together?” He teased.

“Should we?”

“Duh,” he playfully rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out making you giggle.

You took a few photos with him before realizing the view outside of your car window. You audibly gasped as Jack leaned over you to get a better look.

“Wow, that’s so beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” you thought to yourself but didn’t jump at the chance to say it. You were in a weird mental limbo, knowing that the NDA had been signed and privacy was more important than ever. You weren’t sure what the driver could hear if anything.

When you got out of the car you started to walk with Jack to a building near the water.

“Are we doing that?” You pointed to the boat that was docked.

“Maybe” his smile was that of a child. He was ecstatic to take you on a date, his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

After everything that happened, he didn’t want to mess anything up.

You realized that the parking lot was empty and wondered if Jack rented the place out but you didn’t want to ask, only assuming you knew the answer anyway.

The woman who greeted you was very polite, she seemed nervous to look you in the eye initially but once you welcomed her she returned your warm gestures. It made you wonder why she assumed you wouldn’t be kind.

“Mr. Harlow, follow me right this way and you’ll meet John. John has worked with us here for 15 years. He’s going to be your captain today!”

John was an older man, probably in his mid to late fifties. He shook both of your hands and told you his “boat rules.”

He had no idea who Jack was, nor did he care as the two of you got inside of the boat with him.

The boat ride was nice, John pointed out some lighthouses as you continued to float on the water. Eventually, he eased the conversation, leaving both you and Jack to make your own.

“That’s so beautiful” you pointed to the lighthouse. “I’ve never seen one in real life!”

“You’re beautiful.” Jack loved how excited you got over things, it did something to his entire body. More than butterflies, and that’s how he knew he loved you and couldn’t lose you.

“Stop” you giggled, not knowing what to say.

“Thank you for taking time off to be here with me” he wrapped his arms around you from behind as you both took in the views.

“It’s not a problem at all” you hummed, leaning back into his chest. “Thank you for planning this date.”

“I feel like we haven’t really got to go on many and now that you’re here with me, that’ll change” he angled himself as best he could to kiss your cheek before you turned around and kissed him on the lips.

The boat ride turned into a nonstop conversation, Jack letting you know some of his friends would be at the show tonight. Noting that they flew in earlier today.

“Copelan, he’ll be there.”

“You guys grew up together, right? I met him at the hotel in Kentucky. ”

“Right!” He was happy you remembered the details.

“He’ll be there and Nemo will be there. I don’t know if you got a chance to meet him on my birthday” he chuckled and you knew why, lightly slapping his chest.

When the conversation died down, the two of you sat in silence overlooking the view. Jack snuck a few photos of you before suggesting you take some together.

“I see Urban is rubbing off on you” you teased noticing that he had wanted to take pictures together twice now.

You took a picture kissing his cheek, and felt the warmth of his blush immediately. You thought it was adorable but refrained from blurting it out.

“We have to have photos to show the grandkids” he continued to blush, and you noticed his freckles more and more in the sun.

“Grandkids? We’re having kids huh?”

“Only if you want to” he couldn’t hide the enormous smile this conversation gave him.

“Only after we get married and only if they get your freckles,” you said half joking, but if he was going to mention kids then you thought it was fair to mention marriage.

“You’ve got a deal” he nodded, smiling as he lined his inner cheek with his tongue. The two of you suddenly realizing you were getting closer to shore again.

The thought of a future with you was something that brought him peace, In the past he would’ve been afraid but something about your presence calmed him. In the middle of all the chaos, you were there to comfort him, he felt secure, and safe and he didn’t want to run from that.

The two of you walked hand in hand to the car, Jack checking his phone and calling Neelam back now that the date was coming to a close.

“I’m on my way, we won’t be late” he hummed before hanging up.

“Are you hungry?”

“Now Jack, you know Neelam will lose her damn mind” you laughed checking the time.

“That’s not what I asked” he smirked as he opened the car door and let you scoot inside first.

“I need something with old bay on it immediately” he laughed as you pointed to his seatbelt.

“Safety first” you teased, making him laugh as he listened to your instruction.

“See, you’d be a great mom!”

“Don’t push it, Harlow!”

“You love me” he smirked, before telling the driver where he wanted to go.

“I do” you replied with a smile as he sat back, placing a hand on your thigh.

“I’m sorry, the in-ears make it hard to hear sometimes. What’s that?”

“I said I love you and thank you for today” You leaned in to kiss him feeling him smile against your lips.

“I love you too and you’re welcome.”

“You know I refuse to eat crab right?” You pulled back from him giving him a look of complete seriousness.

“Don’t worry, I made sure this place had the finest French fries and cheese curds” he teased your eating habits but truthfully he wasn’t much better.

“Good” you smirked, knowing he probably wasn’t the least bit joking.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #Jack Harlow fanfic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb

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ammg-old2 · 1 year

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It was December of 1996 when Karen Lips turned up the first bodies—and finally felt an ember of hope. As a graduate student working in the muggy forests of Central America, she’d noticed that an as-yet-unnamed culprit had been stripping the area of its frogs. Regions that had once rung with a chorus of croaks were silent and still, but no one had found the carcasses that could speak to a cause. With those finally in hand, “I remember thinking, Wow, this might actually be helpful,” Lips told me. Surely, data would beget a solution; surely, the frogs’ declines would now be reversed.

More than 25 years later, Lips has felt much of that early spark of hope fizzle and flame out. Scientists did indeed go on to identify the amphibian-killing pathogen: the fungus Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis, or Bd for short. But Bd has not been stopped. Instead, it has spread to every continent where frogs and their close cousins are found. “If you pick up an amphibian here in the U.S., on average you have a 50 percent chance of picking up one that’s infected with Bd,” said Lips, who now runs her own lab at the University of Maryland. Eradication is no longer possible; the fungus has established itself in too many animals, in too many places. Lips sometimes imagines the planet coated in a layer of fungus that grows back when poked, prodded, or torn. “I’m not sure I have optimism,” she told me, not anymore.

Bd is the paragon of a pandemic. It has been described as perhaps the most devastating disease the world has ever recorded, in terms of its species scope and death toll. A pathogen that wriggles inside amphibian skin cells and causes fatal heart attacks, the fungus is estimated to have contributed to the decline of about 500 amphibian species, about 90 of which have been driven to extinction; more are expected to follow, sending ripples through countless food webs. Bd is also, outside of tight circles of amphibian enthusiasts, little known, and barely addressed. For the network of researchers who have devoted decades of their lives to combatting it, hope has long been hard to keep alive. And in the past three years, as another outbreak—this one, a plague of humans—erupted into public consciousness, their prospects for success have felt even dimmer.

Bd wasn’t always thought of as a permanent planetary scourge. When scientists first began to study the pathogen, “it was not looked at as a hardy organism,” Lips told me. Several antifungals, including a drug called itraconazole, can easily wipe it out in test tubes; so can potent chemicals released by multiple species of bacteria, including some that naturally reside on certain amphibians’ skin. Researchers actually have to fight to keep the finicky fungus growing in the lab: Even small perturbations in temperature or salt content are enough to nuke it, forcing scientists to start their cultures over from scratch. “We used to joke about how easy it was to kill,” Lips said.

Out in the wild, though, Bd rapidly proved itself to be far more formidable. Some research suggests that the fungus can linger in the environment for days or weeks, awaiting its next host; it is a fast evolver, too, with the ability to essentially “add or kick out chromosomes at will,” says Trent Garner, a biologist at the Zoological Society of London and University College London. The range of animals it can trouble is also staggeringly large: The fungus seems to be able to infect just about any of the 8,000-plus species of amphibians it encounters, transmitting directly through skin-to-skin contact, or by releasing sperm-shaped spores into water. It’s hardy; it’s ubiquitous; it’s impossible to permanently purge. Boot it out of one population, and it just moves into the next.

Researchers, having acknowledged that Bd’s threat will never completely dissipate, still try their best to mitigate its harms. Antifungals work, at least in limited contexts: About a decade ago, a team of scientists led by Garner used them (along with disinfectants) to eliminate Bd from several ponds in Majorca, Spain. Some researchers are also experimenting with probiotics that can be slathered onto amphibians like “a topical yogurt” to imbue their skin with fungus-fighting bugs, says Molly Bletz, a disease ecologist and conservation biologist at UMass Boston who’s working on one such intervention. Other scientists are looking into Bd-focused vaccines, or selective breeding in captivity—even engineered genetic tweaks—that could make certain species less vulnerable to disease. Some researchers are trying to mobilize amphibians out of Bd-infested areas; chauffeur them into fungus-free havens; or seed their habitats with crustacean micropredators, such as water fleas, that might snarf Bd down.

The tricky thing with all of these tempering tactics, though, is that they’re ultra-laborious—with little guarantee that the effects will last. In zoos, frogs that are cleared of Bd with drugs get “reinfected all the time,” Lips told me. And that’s after researchers “treat them all,” a proportion that would be infeasible in the wild. The looming specter of fungal evolution also keeps herpetologists up at night. Obed Hernández-Gómez, an evolutionary ecologist at Dominican University, in California, has found that it can take as few as 15 generations for Bd to evolve resistance to the molecules made by certain probiotic bacteria; the case is probably comparable with antifungals, though the phenomenon hasn’t been well studied. Some also worry that any chemical, bacterial, or environmental intervention could come with serious consequences for creatures that coexist with frogs, or for the frogs themselves.

Vaccines could be a more lasting intervention, with fewer environmental ripple effects. But effective immunizations don’t yet exist. Cold-blooded amphibians are also a challenging group to vaccinate. “Their immune systems are really slow,” Bletz told me, especially when temperatures dip. Even vetted vaccines wouldn’t pass protection down through the generations, requiring scientists to make regular trips into the field. Interventions in captive contexts, too, may serve only as a stopgap. The idea is to “breed them, then return them to their habitats,” says Ana Longo, a herpetologist at the University of Florida. “But if the pathogen is still there, is it worth it to spend all this effort?”

People, too, could get their act together. Humans seem to have ferried the fungus, once restricted to parts of Asia, around the globe, via imported or stowaway amphibians. Better regulation of the international trade in these animals could reduce the global burden, but Bd has already spread to nearly all frog-inhabited corners of the world, save for maybe Papua New Guinea and a few nearby island outposts, and its ubiquity is seen by many as a foregone conclusion. Researchers have also been distracted, for the past 10 years or so, by another fungal outbreak caused by a sister species called Bsal that mainly targets salamanders. Bsal hasn’t yet been detected in North America, the “hot spot” of salamander diversity, Hernández-Gómez said, and the effort to keep it out has gobbled up herpetologists’ attention, pushing Bd to the sidelines. And among some policy makers, there’s been a pervasive attitude of “what exactly do you want us to do?” Lips told me. “It’s already here.”

That sentiment has seemed particularly familiar of late, Bd experts told me, now that the world is grappling with another pandemic-caliber disease, this one trained on humans. COVID has forced a reckoning with the same sorts of questions as the frog fungus, and produced similar stalemates: What level of suffering is sustainable, or tolerable? What do you do when a disease is still raging but many people seem to have tired of fighting it? As with Bd, the coronavirus has no silver-bullet solution. Both are here to stay.

Lips has been gathering data that could draw more direct connections between amphibians’ well-being and our own. She and her colleagues recently published a paper proposing that the decline of amphibians in Central America may have led to a boom in populations of mosquitoes—typical frog fare—and raised the risk of malaria among people. Though even infectious threats to Homo sapiens can be easy to ignore. Our response to the coronavirus pandemic, in particular, felt like “a slap in the face,” Hernández-Gómez said. “If humans don’t even care about a disease that’s killing off their own,” Bletz told me, “how are they going to care about something that affects amphibians?”

In broad strokes, much of the rest of the Bd and Bsal story may feel written: More populations will dwindle; more species will disappear, many of them far from human habitations, where they may, once again, escape the notice of most. Perhaps more species will ultimately adapt to resist or tolerate Bd, and so the struggle continues to “keep populations in the wild for as long a time as possible, to give more time for natural selection to act,” says Ben Scheele, a disease ecologist at Australian National University who’s working to save his nation’s corroboree frogs. But even on an evolutionary timescale, there are no guarantees: Where frogs go, the fungus seems to follow.

“There’s almost nothing we can do, in a way, and that’s the sad part,” says Timothy James, a chytrid-fungus expert at the University of Michigan. Lips has held dying frogs in her hand, each of them sluggish, discombobulated, and weak, sometimes to the point where they can no longer muster the energy to try to wrest themselves free. “They just sort of sit there, even if you bend to pick them up,” she told me. Their deaths are slow, subtle affairs—agonizing fades that have become, like so many other infectious endings, a kind of background noise.

Some of the experts I spoke with told me there is still plenty of room for optimism—that the efforts of the few could still turn the tide, especially against the less pervasive Bsal. Others, although far from giving up on the Bd battle, feel more conflicted. At the start of the COVID outbreak, Lips felt another wellspring of hope burble up in her chest. She gave talks. She told people, “This is not my first pandemic.” Maybe, she thought, there would be a surge in interest in infectious disease; maybe, she thought, people would understand the importance of conservation, and keeping ecosystems intact. That’s not what happened. “I had hoped COVID would be our success story,” she said. “But I went from ��This will be a motivating factor to do better!’ to ‘Wow, we’re kind of losing momentum again.’”

Lips still remembers what Costa Rica’s tropics looked like in the 1990s, before Bd was truly known. She recalls the feeling of becoming enamored of the spectacular green coloring and the nubby spiked skin of the region’s Isthmohyla calypsa tree frogs. Isthmohyla calypsa is now no longer in Costa Rica: Bd has driven it out. And Lips no longer does much fieldwork. A lot of pain comes with confronting the froglessness—trying to count creatures that she and others worry will no longer be countable in a few years’ time. Lips’ current research—some of it geared toward influencing policy, and buoying biodiversity as a whole—does keep her going. But as the frogs continue to vanish, so too does the work of the scientists who study them. “Where do I go?” she said. “Where are the frogs?”

#environmentalism #ecology #zoology #herpetology #current events #frogs #fungi #batrachochytrium dendrobatidis

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hometoursandotherstuff · 7 months

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Wow, who loves natural light? This 2000 contemporary house in Easton, Maryland has windows galore, but I wonder about sun glare. In my last apt., I couldn't escape it for a few hrs. everyday. 5bds, 4ba, $4.995M + $300mo. HOA.

Enter and go down the stairs to a huge sunken living room with built-ins, a fireplace, balcony, mezzanine, vaulted ceiling, and a plethora of windows.

Apparently, there's no mention of the matching furniture conveying. There's a view of the patio and the waterfront, plus 2 sets of double doors to the outside.

Stairs in the living room go up to the dining room. More built-ins plus a fireplace and a view with access to the patio.

What an unusual mult-level island with ample everyday seating.

The curved kitchen is incredibly large.

There's even another counter with a view.

This home has quite a number of different levels.

The family room has a terrace.

The primary bedroom is very big and has a corner fireplace, room for seating and a table, plus doors to the outside. Look at the small loft space above, too.

Stairs to more bedrooms.

A sink and mini fridge tucked into a foyer to the outdoors.

The other bedrooms get a lot of light and some have vaulted ceilings.

One of the baths. Has a nice big closet and a vanity bench.

Looks like a combination art studio, pool room, library and exercise space.

Boat dock. This is the Miles River.

The home has 2 separately deeded waterfront lots totaling 18 acres.

You can have horses here.

Paddock and tack room.

House has lots of parking plus more garages under the house.

Look at all the solar panels. So, that must be a savings on electricity.

This is a huge property- look at the driveway into the place.

#contemporary homes #modern architecture #houses #house tours #modern estates #horse estates #home tour

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flanaganfilm · 1 year

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Hey Mike, I’ve really enjoyed reading your long posts on projects you’ve worked on through your career. I was wondering if you could talk a little about your experience in film school and making your student films. I was able to watch Ghosts of Hamilton Street a while ago and found it really interesting how some of the same themes in that film have been consistent through all of your work and have really liked seeing the progression and progress you’ve made in your stories since. Thanks!

Oh wow, deep pull here. I don't often talk about these movies, which I think of as the "Towson Trilogy."

They were amazing learning experiences, but aren't really fit for public consumption. I consider them an incredible, irreplaceable film school, but I've gone out of my way to not to help them become available - they just aren't on a level that I'd feel comfortable putting out into the world.

So let's go back to 1998.

I was an undergrad at Towson University in Maryland. I had dreamed of being a filmmaker for most of my childhood, and had made a few backyard movies on VHS with friends, and some VHS shorts in high school. But the idea of a career in filmmaking was very farfetched. My father was in the U.S. Coast Guard and my mother was a medical office manager. They were always very supportive of my little "movie projects," but also very much invested in my education and wanted me to focus on careers that were more likely. A career making movies seemed very, very unrealistic, and I spent my senior year of High School focusing on coming up with a "real job" I could get passionate about. As I graduated High School, I had let go of the filmmaking dream and was hoping to get enough scholarship money so I could afford to go to Loyola University Maryland, where I wanted to major in secondary education.

I was going to be a high school history teacher.

I didn't get enough scholarship money to attend Loyola, so I ended up enrolling at Towson University (then called Towson State) instead. I was initially very disappointed by this outcome, but it turned out to be one of the best things that happened in my life.

I was still planning on following the education track, but I felt discouraged and bruised by missing out on Loyola. So as I filled out my freshman electives, I signed up for Intro to Film on a lark. I mean, my hopes and dreamed hadn't panned out. I didn't get into my first choice school (or my second, for that matter) and here I was.

Why not?

It was immediately clear to me that this was what I wanted to do with my life. It was what I'd always wanted to do, if I was honest - I had been making all of those little movies, I lived and breathed movies, I had been saying since I was kid that I wanted to make movies for a living, and here was my chance to learn more about that world. I was hooked immediately. I started to ignore my other classes in favor in spending more time in the Mass Communications department (there wasn't an official "film" major at Towson); so what if this wasn't a "real job," so what if I didn't have a chance in hell of being a professional filmmaker... I had access to cameras. That meant I could make movies.

This happened to coincide with an exciting time in independent filmmaking. Spike Lee, Edward Burns, Kevin Smith, Jim Jarmusch - we would talk excitedly about the rumored budget of Robert Rodriguez's El Mariachi (everyone said it was just seven thousand bucks!), we would talk between classes about the filmmakers who were forging careers out of thin air on shoestring budgets. People were breaking the rules, and bucking the system. Careers were being made on one rogue film. They weren't climbing the ladder; they were suing for membership. Make a movie, then make a career. Independent Film was the way in. The odds might be against you, but if your number came up... man, you were on your way.

I had a substitute teacher in one of my film classes. His name was Steve Yeager and he'd just won the filmmaker's trophy at Sundance for his documentary about local hero John Waters, a movie called Divine Trash. He was the toast of Baltimore at the time, and he spoke breathlessly about the independent filmmakers who were leading the charge and finding audiences outside of the studio system. He told the students that any of us could do this - any of us could make a movie, especially using this brand new technology called:

DIGITAL VIDEO.

Steve argued that DV had democratized filmmaking, and cited filmmakers like Mike White, whose DV feature Chuck and Buck had just hit the festival scene. Dogme 95, the creative movement founded by the Danish directors Lars von Trier and Thomas Vinterberg, was the talk of all the cinephiles. Not only could we make a movie, Steve declared, we could make it for a fraction of the cost that most filmmakers had had to bear over the years when dealing with purchasing and processing film.

I had been inspired by movies like Clerks, The Brothers McMullen, and Stranger Than Paradise - I was working on my own script, a slice of life story called Makebelieve, which was focused on the only slice of life I knew anything about: a college kid,,, who loved movies... and... had a crush on a girl.

You write what you know, I guess.

Now, our little Mass Comm program at Towson was a great way to get experience making movies, but we made them as part of a group. The best case scenario was waiting until you were an upperclassman and hoping you'd be able to direct a short film with your classmates, but most students never got their turn directing. Some students would labor through the department for four years but never sit in a director's chair when the senior projects came around. I was too impatient to wait for that. I wanted to be like Kevin Smith, Mike White and Ed Burns - I wanted to make my movie, my way, right now.

I was actively averse to commercial viability (an allergy it took me far too long to overcome), utterly enamored with the emerging mumblecore "indie film" vibe of the time, and convinced that a movie comprised of extended conversations about collegiate dating would make for riveting entertainment. I had several friends in the Theater Department, enlisted the help of my roommate Dave Foster, and pretty soon we were doing table reads and shooting proof-of-concept trailers on miniDV.

Raising money for the movie was a huge challenge. A girlfriend had managed to get ahold of Bruce Campbell's email (it was the worst-kept secret on the fledgling internet at the time), and I emailed him to invite him to be part of our little movie. He actually wrote back - he declined participation (for reasons that are astonishingly obvious to me now) but was kind enough to send some advice for the production. We were so grateful he took the time to respond that we named our production company after our favorite line from Army of Darkness... we were Sugarbaby Productions.

Steve Yeager, my substitute teacher, had told the class "if any of you write a feature film, I will do what I can to help you produce it." I came up to him after class and handed him the script for Makebelieve. He looked a little shocked, but he agreed to read the script. He did, and he liked it, and for reasons I may never understand, he said "okay, fine. I'll produce your movie."

Steve was true to his word. He didn't bring money (it would have been certifiably insane if he had), but he used his connections to find a crew of professionals in Baltimore willing to work on a little college movie. We had fundraisers, we had bake sales, we sold T-shirts on campus to raise cash to shoot. We hit up every family member and friend for possible investment (my parents, to their endless credit, put up more money than they could afford), and we scraped together enough to shoot the thing.

We filmed Makebelieve on miniDV in over the summer of 1999. The University gave us access to its facilities to use for locations, we had the run of campus, and our tiny cast and crew received independent study credit for their participation in the film.

The technology wasn't quite the amazing godsend people had made it out to be. It was low resolution, there was not yet anything that allowed you to change frame rate; everything still had that "soap opera" feeling you get with 30 fps.

We compensated for this by emulating a Hal Hartley film I'd seen at festival called Book of Life, which had opted for a slower shutter speed to give the film a dreamy, smeary look that hid the frame rate. We shot at a 1/15s shutter speed, and the movie looked a bit like an acid trip... but at least it didn't move like a soap opera.

The finished movie... well, it's not very good.

It was my first feature, it wasn't really about much of anything, but it had some fun dialog and a truly committed young cast. It had promise. And we finished the thing! That was the biggest miracle. It was the best film school I could ever hope for - a trial by fire that pulled me through each and every phase of production and forced me to learn on the job.

The film was rejected by every single major film festival - my dreams of being the next Sundance breakout auteur were dashed very quickly. But we had our world premiere at the Maryland Film Festival in 2000, to a sold out crowd, and that was the single biggest night of my young life up until that point.

I was completely hooked. I knew the film was deeply flawed, and I was eager for another at-bat - I knew I could do better.

I wouldn't wait long. I had already written a script for an "edgy" follow-up to Makebelieve called Still Life. It was "edgy" because it featured a more nihilistic plot, about a group of photography majors who begin exploiting elements of their lives for their senior thesis project, and in doing so get disconnected from their lives by examining them through lenses (Get it?! Man, I sure was a film student, wasn't I)

I had gone through a bad breakup after Makebelieve was done, an engagement that had ended and broken my young heart. Frankly, we were just babies - I really had no business whatsoever trying to get married at 21 - but I wrote that breakup into the script and let the bitterness rip. Edgy, right?

I used most of the same cast from Makebelieve (thus beginning a habit that still holds true today) and set about trying to find money to make the film.

The issue was how to raise money. We had already knocked on every door to finance Makebelieve and nobody got their money back; the movie never sold. Investing in independent films is one of the highest risk investments you can make. We'd turned over every single rock we could think of last time, how the hell were we going to do that again?

We courted more investors, including some professional risk takers and VC people. An accountant named Harry Rosen drummed up a bunch of investors in exchange for a role in the film (he played the grandfather of one of the leads). This movie had more money than the last, and it wasn't from friends and family by and large - it was from people who were giving and expecting much more.

We shot Still Life in the summer of 2000, just after Makebelieve had premiered (even then, I couldn't wait for one movie to come out before starting another). It was a more ambitious shoot across the board. And again, it was a phenomenal learning experience. And again, the movie wasn't quite... good.

The first cut was 180 minutes long. Yep, 180. The Final Cut is... 75 mins long. So... yeah, it was probably a few drafts undercooked.

It was indulgent, it was uneven, and it was spectacularly self-important. But it got into some more festivals - quite a few more than Makebelieve -and it even won some awards.

See, the rise of digital video meant an avalanche of digital movies. It had democratized filmmaking after all - suddenly, the sheer volume of submissions at film festivals increased by a factor of ten. And with that many thousands of extra movies flooding the festival market, the laws of supply and demand kicked in - there were suddenly a LOT more film festivals.

And there were film festivals who weren't terribly scrupulous. There were festivals who only existed to collect submissions fees, and they'd accept movies that otherwise would never have made it into a fest, so long as they thought they could make some money of the filmmakers. Some of the fests we played back then soon became notorious for running these kinds of scams. But it wasn't nearly as difficult to get into festivals as it once was... and it wasn't nearly as difficult to win awards.

One of the festivals we were accepted into was in Los Angeles, and I came out to LA for the first time in my life for the screening. While here, I started making plans to move to California. It seemed impossible, daring, and crazy at the time - I had no money, my movie had some laurels on the poster but wasn't commercially viable - and I had no idea how to pull it off. But I decided then, walking around Santa Monica late one night after a screening: as soon as I graduated from Towson, I'd move to LA.

But it turned out graduation was a long ways off.

Still Life took up an enormous amount of time, and I fell behind on my studies. The film never did find a distributor. It played a few dozen fests (some of which were downright predatory) and then it was over.

Itching to keep shooting stuff but certainly out of fundraising options, I ended up part of a startup production company consisting of a recent grad and another student at Towson, and we actually got a couple industrial jobs around Baltimore. I took a semester off to focus on the work. Graduation got pushed back. And then I took another semester off when more gigs came in. I finally graduated in May 2002, two years later than I'd planned. My production company had gone bust (we had no idea what we were doing) but we did some good commercial and industrial work and I got some experience trying to manage a business.

I had also wised up in one very important respect: I had kept writing scripts this whole time (you really can't help it, if you're a writer) and I had finally decided to embrace GENRE.

I had written a script called Ghosts of Hamilton Street. On the outside, it looked like an episode of The Twilight Zone; the plot centered around a washed-up alcoholic who starts to notice people in his life disappearing without a trace... but whenever one of them goes, the world around him completely rewrites itself as though they never existed at all.

I thought I was starting to play with genre conventions, doing a light sci-fi story that would be fun and character-forward. What I was really doing, though, was dealing with the fact that a lot of my closest friends from college had graduated on time, two years before me, and gone out into their adulthoods. I missed them, and I felt that my world was altered with each of their absences. I was starting to get introspective.

This was about something. It was about regret, it was transition, it was about losing one's comfortable world and heading into the unknown. It was about my regret for my failed engagement (and my exploitation of it for Still Life), and about the friends who had gone ahead into adulthood without me. It was also, I realize now, about having a drinking problem. I wouldn't really understand this, or take any action to fix it, for fifteen more years.

For now, I just knew this one felt a little different. It had an engine. I had something to talk about for the first time in my filmmaking career. This one wasn't a class project, just fumbling around with the technical realities of production; this had a tiny, infant, unformed little voice in there. It was small, it was buried, but it was there.

So how could we finance it?

Okay. You're not going to believe this, but it's true... I've never really talked about this publicly before, but it's the truth so here goes:

A good friend of mine, a fellow student at Towson, was hit one night by a Papa Johns delivery car while crossing the street. He settled with the company and came into a lot of money. He invested some of that to finance Ghosts, and... well... that's how we did it.

Yep, you read that right: my third feature was financed because a friend of mine got hit by a pizza delivery guy. So when people ask me what advice I have for fundraising, unless I say "start shoving your friends in front of delivery vehicles", I'm being a bit of a hypocrite.

My friend was now a bonafide executive producer, and he was walking normally again, so we were off to make a movie!

It was a modest budget compared to the sprawling mess that was Still Life, but the digital video technology had advanced - we were now shooting in 24p, and for the first time in my career, my little digital features actually moved like a movie.

Again, the cast brought back some familiar faces from Makebelieve and Still Life. We held auditions for the other parts.

One of the fellow Towson students who auditioned for a role was a girl I knew tangentially from the theater department. She was much closer to my roommate Paul Jerue, who was working on the movie too, but she'd been over my place a few times and we'd hung out here and there.

Her name was Amy Schumer, and I remember her audition very well. I didn't give her a part in this movie. I remember telling the producers I thought she was too funny for it. She was quite funny, in fact. I think she's also now the most famous person to come out of Towson University.

Somewhat ironically, there aren't a lot of photographs from this period of my life, because I didn't have a digital camera. Everything was on film, and just about all of those shots are lost to time.

But there are a few leftover from Ghosts that I'll share here - I've used my phone to snap some pics of pages from a single surviving scrapbook:

(Holy god, I actually had hair...)

Ghosts of Hamilton Street isn't a bad movie. It had taken me years of work, but I had finally made something that wasn't bad. They say your first ten movies are gonna suck, so get them out of the way early... maybe I was a little ahead of schedule after all.

Even though I had graduated just before we shot it, I still consider it a student film. It was shot in and around campus, utilizing equipment from the school, and the cast and crew were comprised of students and graduates (a lot of the cast were returning actors from Makebelieve and Still Life).

The star of the movie was a student who was ahead of me by a year named Scott Graham. I loved working with him, and I loved what he did with this movie.

(The great Scott Graham, three years before the Oculus short)

Three years later, he would fly himself out to LA from Washington DC in order to star in a short film I'd make in Los Angeles called Oculus.

(Filming Oculus - Chapter 3: the Man with the Plan in 2005)

Looking back, I think of Ghosts of Hamilton Street as my first movie. The other two were just class projects, really, and I was throwing spaghetti against the wall. But this one... it features an ambitious 90 second oner in the middle of the movie that competently tracks Scott through a bewildering office environment. It's a good shot.

It uses its genre moments as extensions of character, and is not concerned with scares or set pieces. It's metaphorical, whereas the other two movies were literal.

And it ends on a monologue.

As far as film festivals, it actually did okay. We screened at a few dozen places, and even traveled with the film. It won some more awards at some reputable festivals. And that winter, just after its premiere, when I packed the moving van to go to LA, I brought 100 DVD copies with me, hoping it would kickstart my career in Hollywood.

It wouldn't; that would happen ten years later, with Oculus. And when I filmed the Oculus feature, Scott Graham - star of Ghosts of Hamilton Street, and star of the Oculus short - played the janitor at the auction house where the mirror was kept.

And the two police officers who arrest Brenton Thwaites at the end of the film? Zak Jeffries, star of Makebelieve, Still Life, and Ghosts, and Dave Foster, my freshman year roommate, who worked crew on every film I made - even the little 8mm shorts - in Towson.

Nat Roers, who starred in Makebelieve and Still Life and was also my roommate for the last two years of college, appears as a jogger in Absentia, Dash Mihok's doomed wife in Before I Wake and as a reporter in Gerald's Game.

My professor at Towson who encouraged me to make all of these movies, and helped every way he could, was a man named Tom Brandau. He acted in Ghost of Hamilton Street, but he also was running the Fargo Film Festival in 2011, and he invited us to host the world premiere of Absentia at the festival. He also sat with me at the monitor for a week while we filmed The Haunting of Hill House, and for several days at the Overlook while we shot Doctor Sleep. He passed away a few years ago, and I miss him terribly.

As for Steve Yeager, the substitute teacher who dared us to make a movie my freshman year, and then put his money where his mouth was and produced my first digital feature a year later - Steve was also on set for Gerald's Game and for Doctor Sleep, and we went out for a beer to celebrate after a long shoot day. I quit drinking before that movie wrapped, so I believe it may have been one of the last beers I ever had, and I'm so glad I got to share it with Steve, who took this pie-eyed kid from his class and told him he could be a filmmaker.

My roommates when I moved out to LA were Ghosts star Zak Jeffries, Ghosts producer Jeff Seidman, crew members Amy Winter (soon to be Amy Seidman), Joe Wicker and Gaby Chavez.

In a way, all of these people were the foundation that started it all. I actively hate Netflix's lame "Flanaverse" idea, but if there was a Flanaverse, these were the people who built it. Scott Graham, Zak Jeffries, Dave Foster, Nat Roers, Jamie Sinsz, Megan Anderson, Steve Yeager, Jeff Seidman, Amy Seidman, Will Pinkine, Rich Koeckert, Jessi Bounelis, Chris Cridler, Sarah Yarbrough, Kara Webb, Kerry Brady, Joe Wicker, Gaby Chavez and Tom Brandau.

They were ride or die, man.

I think back on that time now and laugh. What a deal we made about digital video... I remember scraping together $2,000 to buy a 9 GB hard drive to edit - yes, I said NINE GIGABYTES.

I think about all of those dreamers out there today who have a 4k camera with 256 GB (or more) IN THEIR POCKET.

Yep, you've got a camera in your pocket that is infinitely more powerful than the cameras I filmed the first four features of my career on. Anyone who says they want to be a filmmaker and aren't sure how to start... I mean, take that thing out of your pocket and SHOOT SOMETHING. You are so, so, so ahead of the game.

So thank you for asking the question, and sorry for the long post. What I will always remember about that time was just how wildly, recklessly, adorably foolish we were... and how if we hadn't been, I might not have a career at all.

I made three independent feature films in my twenties, and another in my thirties, and while I don't think most of them are ultimately worthy of an audience, they were the best education I ever could have hoped for. I made them with dear friends, some of whom have remained in my life and heart to this day, and all of whom I owe an enormous debt.

My favorite thing? The title of the first one.

Makebelieve.

Because man, we were kids. Everything about that word is whimsy, innocence, and naivety. It's not a perfect movie; in fact, it isn't even a good one.

But that is a perfect, perfect title.

#memories #film school #towson university #make believe #still life #independent film

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lostjulys · 2 years

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rereading percy jackson btw and it is just. unlocking SO many memories.

#wondering if part of the reason i loved it so much as a kid is also bc. goddamn. it was very very like. real to me.#like how grounded it was in new york. my dad used to work at the same place annabeth's dad worked. getting all the upstate ny references.#all of the fucking TRAVELING and the cross country road trips. nine year old roswell on a car trip looking out the window seeing the #gateway arch and going WOW HEY THAT'S WHERE PERCY WAS!!! and the same with fucking. maine. maryland. denver. new mexico. san francisco. all #that shit. like. so many CORE memories of reading and reading and rereading those books on so many long road trips.#dot text #man.. i lov u pjo..

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vintagelasvegas · 1 year

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Wonder World - W🌐W - Maryland Parkway, February 28, 1968

Frank Mitrani Photographs (PH-00332) UNLV Special Collections & Archives

Among the first wave of suburban shopping centers to open around Las Vegas in the 60s was Wonder World Discount Department Store. Founded by a corporate developer in NYC, the first location opened in ‘62 at Decatur Blvd & Vegas Dr. VP of the parent company Herb Kaufman relocated to Las Vegas in ‘66 and turned Wonder World into a local chain, opening Wonder World at Maryland & Twain in 1968, and two others at W Sahara, and E Owens in North Las Vegas. Each department was leased with their own check-out; WOW owned the stores and property.

Wonder World Industries became Chanin Development Corp in ‘71 and developed Regency Tower, the first residential high-rise in Las Vegas. Kaufman later became the producer of Kenny Kerr’s Boy-Lesque. Pay Less bought Wonder World in ‘86, and phased out the name by ‘88.

Photo: Elvis shopping for ammo at Wonder World in the 70s.

Discount Store Opens Thursday. Review-Journal, 11/4/62; Wonder World Opening. Review-Journal, 2/29/68; Birthday Sale. Review-Journal, 10/30/75; S. Caudle. Colorful Herb Kaufman. Review-Journal, 8/7/77; M. Caruso. Wonder World undergoes transformation. Review-Journal, 7/31/86; Wonder World conversion completed. Review-Journal, 2/25/88; T. Hawley. Before Walmart or Target, Las Vegas had Wonder World. News3LV 12/6/2017.

#1968

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safety-pin-punk · 11 months

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so i work at an animal rehab center, and i was wondering if you had any patch ideas related to animal rehabilitation? i was thinking along the lines of like. i dont know "dont feed the fucking foxes" bc thats a big problem around here, ans i was also going to do one themed around one of our permanent residents

Wow okay I haven’t done patch ideas for a while but I wanna get back into them. So uuhh. Heres an Animal Welfare/Protection themed list

“Would you care more if they barked?”

“I was made to save animals”

“Animals are beings, not belongings”

“It takes nothing away from a human to be kind to an animal”

“Hunting for sport is fucking stupid”

“There is no god but nature”

“Animal lovers are a special breed of humans”

I also recommend checking out KellyRomanArt on Etsy

#mail tag #patch ideas #animal rights #add to masterlist

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dasha-aibo · 1 year

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Wow, guess we better ban Catholic ideology, clearly hundreds of kids are in danger. I respect everyone's right to practice Catholicism in private, but there's no rational argument for Catholicism in the public life, it is a dangerous deviancy. Let's ban kids from practicing Catholicism before they suffer irreversible damage!

#if you don't think I'm being facetious you have the reading comprehenshion of a todler

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whiskeyswriting · 2 years

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Love Me Like You - Chapter 1: Breathe

Read Chapter 2: A Mess (Happy 4 U)

😍pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader

💭summary: High school and college sweethearts. That’s what the two of you were. And that’s the keyword: were. What are you to do when you come face to face with the man that broke your heart three years ago?

⚠️warning: mentions of alcohol consumption

🎶 Song Inspiration 1: Breathe by Little Mix

🎶 Song Inspiration 2: A Mess (Happy 4 U) by Little Mix

🎶 Song Inspiration 3: Love Me Like You by Little Mix

If anyone has asked, your love story with Jake was a fairytale. It wasn’t love at first sight. No. It was more like slow burn friends to lovers.

Growing up in the same small Texas town, you two always knew each other since elementary school. At first you were good friends. That was until Jake started hitting puberty come middle school.

Boys being boys is what people would tell you when he would tease you for not growing and staying short. The other girls in middle school started developing and teasing you too.

He quickly put a stop to them. In his eyes, he was the only one that could tease you because you were his friend.

Then came high school. Jake hadn’t seen you during the summer since your family went to visit friends in Europe. He was expecting to see the you he was used to.

He was not expecting the height you now reached, much less the soft curves that came over the summer. “Hi Jake!”

“Wow! You’re like a real girl now!” The punch to his arm takes him by surprise.

“Jerk!” You huff and cross your arms, making him laugh.

“You’re still so cute when you get angry. Tiny.”

“You’re incorrigible Jacob Steve Seresin… The fifth!”

“You did not just legal name me… I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he says wrapping you in a hug. “Still perfect size to hug.”

You give in and hug him back. “So are you Jakey.”

That first day of high school was the first day of the rest of your lives. It was inevitable that the two would try and date other people, but the little green monster of jealousy would make you mad at each other. That was until you both admitted your feelings for each other.

And so you two, despite being in totally different social circles, dated all through high school. When the time to pick colleges came, the two of you both wanted the same schools.

Jake, however, had a dream that he never told you about. He wanted to apply to the Naval Academy and so he did. He applied as soon as he turned 17. And every year he kept applying, improving his grades, until he was accepted just after his 21st birthday.

The same day he got accepted was your party for finishing your associates degree earlier than planned.

You were all dolled up and waiting for Jake to pick you up. When you hear him arriving, you rush out the door to meet him outside.

He takes his time getting out of his truck. He knows what he’s about to do is the worst thing in his life, but he feels like it’s still the best thing for the both of you.

Despite being anxious at his delay, something in his body language stops you from rushing to him.

He keeps the truck on as he approaches you at your front door. “Hey doll… Can we talk?” He makes no attempt to kiss you in greeting, though he wishes to do nothing else but kiss you.

“Is everything okay Jake?” You ask.

“Doll… there’s something that… I haven’t told you everything about me. About what I want.”

“Jake. We tell each other everything. What else is there for me to learn about you?”

“I’m leaving Texas. I’m going to Maryland…” he can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes.

“Maryland? What? Why?”

“Annapolis actually.”

At hearing the name, you knew. “You joined the Navy? That’s amazing Jake!” You move to hug him but he takes a step back, causing the first crack in your heart.

“It is. I’ve been applying since I turned 17 and got accepted today… I leave tomorrow. The sooner the better.”

“I’ll help you to the airpo-“

“No. You won’t. I’ll have my parents take me. We’re done.” He pauses for a moment, knowing that what he says next will make you hate him but it was easier to have you hate him than to leave you with a false hope that he would return. “I need to end this before you expect me to give up my dream of being an aviator. We had fun and nice run… But high school relationships don’t last. We never meant to last this long.”

The world around you stopped and started spinning counterclockwise at the same moment. You could feel your heart was in a free fall, awaiting for the hit that breaks it.

“I need to be single to focus on my career. You’ll only hold me back.” And that’s the hit that sank your heart deeper into the fall and finally reached the spike-covered floor.

He doesn’t give you time to say goodbye or even refute his statements. He turns and gets back in his truck and drives off.

It’s safe to say that you missed your own party that night. As well as the attempts of your friends to try to get you to go out for brunch to know what happened.

It had now been a month since Jake broke your heart and left you. You decided to pack up the little reminders of him and put them away.

You decide to pack a second box of stuff to return to his parents. With that you write him a note:

Jake:

I know things are never going to be the same for us. And I get it. I’m not going to beg you to love me. We can’t force what isn’t meant to be right?

Anyways, I’m leaving some of your stuff with your parents.

Before I end this letter… let me just admit that:

1: I can't erase your number and

2: I'm still sleepin' in your jumper

I kinda hate it that I love ya but I’m trying to let you go.

I do wish you the best. Xoxo

You seal the note in an envelope and place it in the box to drop off to his parents. As you close the box, a splash of the whiskey you’re drinking falls onto the box.

“If I call you, will you pick up?” You ask an invisible Jake. When you see there’s no response, you take another long sip from the bottle. “Guess I'm drownin' in the liquor.”

A knock at your bedroom door pulls you away from the bottle. “Come in,” you slur loudly.

Cindy enters and takes you in. “Oh babe,” she sits next to you on the floor and just lets you lay your head on her shoulder as you start crying again.

“I- He doesn’t love me anymore!” You repeat over and over until you can barely speak. “I can’t breathe without him Cin… I don’t want to.”

“It’ll be hard. But you’ll be able to. I’m here for you. And will continue to be here.”

And she was. She kept her promise. Day after day and week after week until months passed by and eventually you started returning to normal.

Every day that passed the pain would lessen. The future you once planned was amended. You had kept all your promises. The only one you broke was one you made to yourself. You promised yourself that you wouldn't reach out to him.

You did only once to wish him a happy new year.

His response? Silence.

🏷 List: @luckyladycreator2 @cycbaby @callsign-dragonbaron @callsignscupcake @dxmerons

#mrsjaderogerswrites #tgm #tgm fic #tgm things #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader

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