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commorsicoclub · 4 years

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The Commorisco Club (3)

If you were waiting for the real vore to begin, here it is people.

Soft, unwilling, male pred, male prey, belly bulges, teasing, fear play and brief mentioning of peanut allergies.

Chapter three: The Waiting Game

Archeon left them to contemplate their new roles with a promise that food would soon be delivered to them to aid in their recovery. Just before closing the door shut, he paused and peered at them through the crack, his red eyes glimmering with want. “Rest well, morsels.”

Once the teal door had shut closed and they were sealed inside, the velvet drapes fell again and they were left alone.

“If we don’t eat then we won’t get our strength back,” Michael said in a hushed whisper. “And then they won’t eat us.”

“You think that’s really gonna stop them?” James asked, irritated and angry. “That the big-fucking-giant-demon-monster things won’t just get pissed and eat us anyway?”

“We have to eat eventually,” Erin added despondently. She pressed the back of her head against the velvet covered wall. “And what’s the point in playing hunger strike chicken with those things? James is right. They’d just wolf us down anyway.”

“What are we going to do?” Valarie said, her voice trembling. “I-I don’t want to be eaten again...”

“Yeah, fuck that!” Michael said, disregarding his previous volume. “Neither do I!”

“No one does,” James said as he tried to crawl on his hands and knees back to one of the cushions and having a difficult time doing it. “If the plan is escape, we can’t when were all like this...”

“But by the time we’re better, they’re gonna be ready for suppertime!” Michael whined. “What are we supposed to do?”

Erin copied James and began to make the slow crawl back to her cushion. She was so tired and her head hurt and all she wanted was to sleep. By the time she made it to her velvet covered bed, she was crying. She heard the others still talking and their voices were raising and it sounded like James and Michael were arguing. She curled up, wishing she had the covers from her bed back in her dorm room. The room was not cold, but she missed the feeling of the soft cotton against her skin.

I have a math exam I need to study for, she thought inanely. It did not matter now, she supposed. Anything. There was nothing for them to do but wait. Wait for the demons to return, for them to grab them all up, and swallow them down again. She could almost feel the slime covered walls of the thing’s belly and she shuddered at the memory and forcibly shutting it down.

Eventually everyone became silent and she could hear their measured breathing as they all slept. But she remained awake. Despite the bone deep fatigue and the absolute desire to sleep...she couldn’t. Insomnia was not a new experience for her, but it was never this bad. If she had trouble sleeping she would normally go to the college’s 24 hour gym and run a mile or two so she could wear herself and her brain out enough to sleep. But now…she couldn’t even stand.

There was no concept of time in the room and it did not seem long at all after everyone had fallen asleep that the sound of the curtains pulling away could be heard. She sat up abruptly, her heart in her throat and every muscle tensed as she watched the door, waiting for it to swing open. Instead, a secondary and much smaller door set into the wood opened up – almost like a doggy door – and a squat and fat toad like demon waddled inside. It didn’t seem to have a neck, just a wide flat head that immediately attached to a rotund wide body all supported on stick thin legs and long flat feet. It had large yellow eyes draped with bumpy eyelids and stared ahead almost listlessly. It looked nothing like the other demons, there was nothing humanoid about him aside from being bipedal.

“Need to be opennin’ yur peepers, Meat,” it said in a low craggy voice, making its way closer to the cloister of humans with ambling steps. His wide flat feet making slapping sounds on the ground. “Master says I bring ya’s food so’s ya ready fer th’ eatin’. So’s foods I got.”

It’s lip-less mouth stretched alarmingly wide and it tilted it’s head back, revealing rows and rows of serrated teeth and a dark throat. Erin screamed and jolted the others awake and upon seeing the mud colored demon with its mouth agape and it’s hideous teeth, they too began to scream. The drama student who had passed out during Archeon’s vist sat bolt upright with a panicked cry and then looked around confused. Upon seeing the toad demon, his screams of panic joined the others.

The ugly toad hunkered down and with a disgusting squelching sound, regurgitated a metal box that shot up into the air and landed in between the cushions that James and Valarie were occupying.

“Oh my god, that is disgusting!” Valarie shrieked, inching away from slime covered thing.

“What the ever loving fuck is that?” Michael demanded. Whether he was referring to the toad demon or the box was unknown, but both seemed to upset him in equal measure.

The demon closed it’s mouth, sealing away its many teeth. “Likes I says: Master says I bring ya’s food so’s ya ready fer th’ eatin’.”

“Get the fuck away from us!” James yelled before falling off the back edge of his cushion and floundering to right himself.

“If you even think about trying to eat me,” Michael wailed. “I will kick you in your fucking demon nads!”

The toad demon did not seem to care how the humans around him were reacting and his yellow eyes did not seem to be focusing on anything in particular and seemed quite board. “Meat is all a hoolerin’ an’ a hollerin’ fer nothin’. Master says I ain’t supose t’ gobble ya’s ‘cause ya’s special no eatin’ meats. Says he’d be gobblin’ me if I’s be gobblin’ any of ya’s.”

“You mean Archeon?” Erin asked warily, eyeing the box. “Is...is he your master?”

“No’s!” said the toad in the first showing any real emotion. It looked almost insulted. “Archeon no master a’ nothin’. Master Rolland be master a’ Gobbler.”

“...G-Gobbler?” the drama student asked. He was pale and shivering.

“Gobbler is be me,” the toad grumbled as it turned back towards the door and began to waddle away, mumbling in displeasure. “Stupid meats not know nothin’. Archeon no master ‘a Gobbler...”

The smaller door shut with a bang and the draped fell back to their places.

“What...what the hell is going on?” the drama student asked. “Where’s the other guy? D-did….di I get eaten again?”

“No, you just kind of fainted,” James said. “And that...thing apparently was Gobbler. Archeon left a while ago.”

“...A-Archeon?”

“Big guy with horns,” Erin said. “You kind of missed introductions.”

Michael was crawling towards the regurgitated box, his face a mixture of disgust and curiosity. It was a munitions box with faded Chinese writing on the side. He reached out to try and flip the latch open, but pulled his hand back in revulsion as a thick cord of Gobbler spit draped from his hand back to the box. Michael began to fervently wipe his hand against James’s cushion.

“Augh! Gross, man!” James whined.

Michael ignored him and tried once more, using the tips of his fingers to finally flip the latch. It popped open easily and out spilled an impressive amount of prepackaged sandwiches. Despite the saliva and goo covered crate, the packages inside were untouched.

“Did that guy just swallow everything at a 7-11 or something?” James asked, reaching out to grab one of the sandwiches. He tiled the black plastic to read the label and then dropped it. “Ew, tuna.”

Erin slowly stood up, her legs only feeling slightly wobbly, and walked over to examine the pile herself. The others were doing something similar. She picked one up, a ham and cheese on wheat, and looked at the label. “They’re not even expired.”

“Seriously,” the drama student was saying. “We’re dead right? This...this is all bonkers.”

“I don’t know anything anymore,” Valarie said, pealing the plastic apart and tucking into a roast beef. She took a large bite and chewed methodically, tears starting to drip off her chin. “I’m so fucking scared and I’m tired and my head hurts and I’m so hungry...”

The drama student was picking idly through the offerings. “Anyone see any that says allergen free?”

“Why? You allergic to gluten or something?” Michael asked mockingly with his mouth full.

“No, just peanuts. I mean, so long as I don’t eat one I’m fine, but I don’t have my inhaler so if I have a bad reaction I’ll just die.”

Michael had the decency to look shame faced.

“Here,” James said, tossing a green plastic package over to the drama student. “It says allergen free on it.”

The drama student looked down at the label and shrugged tiredly. “Oh well. I guess beggars can’t be choosers...”

Michael was unwrapping a second sandwich, looking around their prison in idle fascination. “You know what?” he asked. “This room kinda looks like a stomach...”

Everyone froze mid-chew to take a moment to look about. After swallowing, they all looked at the remains of their sandwiches, appetites suddenly lost.

“Hey, blue hoodie kid,” James asked. “What’s your name?”

The drama student raised his eyes brows. “Huh? Oh, I’m Danny.”

“I’m James.”

“Michael.”

“Valarie.”

“Erin.”

“Just warning you Danny,” Michael added, his appetite abruptly revived as he took another bite. “Since we didn’t know your name at the time, Archeon said he was just gonna call you Snack.”

Danny scowled and averted his eyes and took a few moments to pick at the wilted lettuce in his sandwich. They ate in silence. Erin felt like she had a good idea of where their minds were at. She could already tell her energy was returning and now that they had food...well It was almost a matter of time now, she supposed. Feeling as though a great big clock hung over all their heads, counting down, they spent the next half hour eating their fill and waiting.

Waiting for the demons to come have their lunch...

…………………………………..

Only Erin and Danny were still awake. The others were quietly snoozing with Michael every so often making a loud snort and rolling over.

“Can’t sleep?” Danny asked her.

She shook her head. “Insomnia.”

“Pre-existing condition or newly acquired?”

Erin felt her face crack into a sardonic smile. “I’ve had it for a few years.”

Danny nodded, staring off into space. “How long do you think it’ll take? For them to come back.”

“Don’t know,” she replied with a sigh. “Archeon said they won’t come to feed on us until we’ve got all our strength back. I wonder how they can tell.”

“Maybe the can smell it,” Danny offered. A thunderous snore from Michael drew his attention and he added, “All I smell is bologna and Michael’s feet.”

Erin cracked another smile. She was beginning to really like Danny. Away from Archeon, he was witty and sweet. Not a whimpering mess that fainted when a giant demon flashed his teeth at him. Though she was sure she was no better. Like her, he was petite for their age, hitting their last real growth spurt before their metabolism could adjust. His blue hoodie was two sizes too big and he had his arms and legs tucked inside.

“If they just suck our energy,” he wondered aloud. “Why do they have to swallow us to do it?”

“Archeon said that’s how it’s done,” she replied, his words echoing in her head. In order for us to ingest your energy, we need to ingest you. She felt a shiver down her spine and the two sandwiches she had eaten sat heavily in her stomach.

“Archeon,” Danny said, the word seemed to quiver on his lips. “He...he’s the guy that ate me, right? So what about the others?”

“He never told us their names,” she replied. “But Gobbler said Rolland was his master. I suppose he’s one of them.”

“Gee, I wonder which of us is the luck meal,” he said sarcastically and then winced. “Ah, ignore me. The weird part of my brain’s kicking in. When I’m nervous I start saying stupid shit.”

“It’s alright,” she said and offered him a grateful smile. “I appreciate the attempt to lighten the mood.”

“So, what major are you?” he asked.

“Biology,” Erin replied and seeing the expression on Danny’s face, added, “It’s OK to laugh.”

“No,” he mumbled, biting his lips in an attempt to quell his amused grin. “I’m good.”

She shook her head. “You’re in the drama department right? Are you a theater major?”

“Nah,” he answered, pulling his arms and legs from his hoodie and standing up to stretch. “Music major. I’m in the orchestra that does all the theater department shows.”

She blinked in surprise and found herself smiling. “Oh really? What do you play?”

“I’m first chair guitar,” he said. “But I play a bunch of other stringed instruments.”

“Too bad you don’t have one with you here,” she said. “Some music sounds really nice right now.”

“When Valarie wakes up we might convince her to sing,” Danny said. “I’m pretty sure she’s a music major too. Vocals. I’m bad with faces since I spend most of the shows in the pit, but I think I remember her playing Fatine in last semester’s Les Miz production.”

She nodded and sighed.

“Man, I miss my ipod,” Erin lamented. “And my bed and blanket.”

“I miss not having to wait for a monster to come and eat me,” Danny said flatly. “It’s like all your worse nightmares from when you were a kid. Except real.”

Erin froze as the velvet drapes began to rustle and pull away. The teal door was already opening and in the blackness of the beyond, peered two glowing red eyes. Her mouth fell open and she flapped her hand at Danny in warning, unable to form words. He looked at her bizarrely and then understanding hit. He whirled around just as Archeon stepped into the room, his eyes glowing with hunger and teeth bared from behind grinning lips. His long coat was gone and he was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, jeweled fingers catching the light of the orb above them and sending small flecks of diffused light bounces around the walls. “Snack time, boy.”

“Fuck!” Danny said, scrambling to try and make a run to the covering of the metal shelf, but he floundered and slipped on the plush cushion. Archeon easily stepped over the other sleeping humans to reach down and sweep a many ringed hand under to catch Danny around his middle just as he was about to face plant onto the floor. He was lifted up easily and he began to struggle and yell. The commotion had alerted the others and bleary eyes snapped open and they started scrambling back away from the demon, crying out in alarm. Archeon ignored them all, devoting his attention to his squirming prey as he dangled Danny above his face. The demon licked his lips idly and hummed in anticipation.

“I’ve had you on my mind all day, Snack,” he purred, lowering his hand just enough to flick his tongue out to give Danny’s feet a quick sampling. Danny pulled his feet away as best he could, but there was no where to go where the demon’s seeking tongue could not easily reach him. “The taste of you. The feel of you wiggling on my tongue. The delicious squirms as you settle in my belly...”

To emphasis this, he patted his stomach.

“Fuck!” Danny whined, trying again to keep his feet out of Archeon’s mouth. “Let go of me, man!”

“Heh heh. No,” Archeon replied with a grin and turned back towards the teal door. “You’re mine for the next few hours, Snack.”

From her spot under the overhang, Erin could see Danny still struggling in the large demon’s grip and could only watch and cry out for her friend as Archeon prepared to devour him for a second time. With a dark chuckled, the demon pulled the human closer. “In you go...”

Great jaws parted and threads of saliva hung from sharp teeth as Danny was thrust into the open maw.

“NO! Don’t do it! Don’t – mmph!” His cries were cut off as Archeon practically stuffed the boy inside, his hand pulling away as his lips pressed around Danny’s middle to leave his legs to kick and flail freely. His great horned head titled back and he opened his jaws again, Danny’s frightened cries becoming more audible for all of one moment before the Demon used his tongue to lift and pull more of his meal into his mouth. Just as the teal door closed, Erin heard the throaty chuckle and then a gulp. The door closed, the velvet drapes fell back, and Danny was gone. They were left alone with one of their number gone, on his way down to Archeon’s belly.

………………………………………

The next demon came only a few minutes after Archeon left. No one had moved or said anything as they waited, huddled close under the metal shelf. It was no real protection, but it felt safer than being out in the open. When the drapes pulled back again, everyone tensed up, sucking in shuddering breaths, and trembling.

The door opened and a new demon entered. Her skin was a shade of blushing pink and long white hair fell down around her shoulders and two bone white opalescent horns poked out from atop her head and curled around like a ram’s. He eyes were a brilliant deep blue and like Archeon before her, they glowed with clear predatory hunger. A large blood red jewel was set into a choker around her neck and she wore a short white blouse that exposed her flat belly and form fitting black pants that showed of her elegant curves.

“Hello,” she said, her voice sultry and disarming. “Poor little humans, you look so frightened.”

She knelt down and crawled on her hands and knees towards them, her head swaying back and forth like a snake, but her eyes never left the form of one particular human. Michael looked ready to bolt at any moment, suddenly finding himself face to face with the demon who had swallowed him once before.

“Don’t worry, though,” she said to Michael, shoulders hunching to make her breasts push out and she stared at him in a coy and flirtatious manner. “I don’t bite.”

“It’s not your bite that I’m worried about!” Michael squeaked.

Her eyes seemed to sparkle with amusement. “No? Oh you don’t mean that you don’t want me to eat you, little man?”

“Yes! Yes, that very much, please!”

“Oh, but I’m not so bad,” she said, pressing closer still and using her hands to cut Michael off from escape. Her fingers traced along his chest in teasing circles. “I’ll be much gentler this time. And I’m oh so soft inside, I think you’ll find my tummy to be very cozy.”

“FAT CHANCE OF THAT LADY!” Michael was wild with hysteria and as he tried to run, her fingers wrapped around him. “Oh sweet Jesus!”

“But you look so yummy,” she purred, pulling him closer to her face where she nuzzled him. “You smell good too. I was so happy when we met the other night. You made me feel so good. Fuller than any of those lower ghouls ever did. I want that feeling again. Of you inside me, wiggling. I want to taste you...” her tongue slipped out and drew a slimy line down the side of Michael’s face. “Mmmm…oh you’re as delicious as I remember.”

Michael was incoherent in his panicked ramblings and could do no more than fruitlessly struggle. He was not a small guy and the Demoness seemed to have no trouble at all keeping a firm handle on him.

“Be good for me, darling,” she whispered to him. “I’ll make this quick.”

Her mouth opened wide and in Michael went, her saliva coated tongue peeking out the sides of her mouth as she tasted him with open relish. She kept a firm grip on Michael’s legs and made her first swallow. He sank into her gullet and before he could react, she swallowed again. It only took her four swallows to down all of the broad shouldered athlete and the captive and horrified audience watched as her smooth flat middle sank with her meal’s weight. It began to jiggle and sway as Michael made his protests known. She pressed a hand to her belly and sighed in delight, eyes closing as she concentrated on the delicious feeling of live, wiggling prey. “There we are, my little human. Nice and cozy, like I promised.”

She carefully stood up, one hand cradling her stomach and she licked the fingers of her other hand. “It’s no wonder you humans are so prized. Your flavor is divine.”

“You’re monsters,” Valarie sobbed, covering her face.

The Demoness tuned her head to look at the girl and she smiled sweetly, licking her lips. “And you’re yummy.”

With an energetic sway of her hips, the Demoness sauntered back to the teal door. She stopped and turned back to the remaining humans.

“Oh! And I’m Lyra by the way. Forgot to introduce myself. Forgive me, I can never recall my manners when I’m famished,” she said, both hands leisurely petting her bulging belly, seeming to relish each kick or jerk of her meal. “Egan should be paying you all a visit shortly. Ta-ta!”

The door closed, the velvet drapes fell, and then they were three.

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pollypeaches · 4 years

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@dare-g tagged me

1. Who are your Idols?

her.......

2. If you could travel anywhere where would you go? i think i’d like to go to japan someday! or maybe to san francisco or somewhere with a beach and amusement parks and aquariums and zoos...

3. What decorates the walls of your room? ok so on one part of my room i have some cool business cards i’ve gotten from midsummer scream, a little glass skull i found from goodwill (my little goth corner), some art prints, and then on my other half of the wall i got some pictures of my friends, letters and postcards from them, some pink paint cards i’ve taken from home depot on different occasions, some string lights i never really get to use, some more art prints

4. Favorite color combination? much like the paint cards on my wall, i think pink and blue is a very pleasing color combo, it’s like cotton candy-bubble gum!

5. What’s on the top of your bucket list?

i’d like to animate a music video, professionally!

6. Height? 4′10″? “11?

7. Favorite animals? oooo uhhhh cats, dogs, mice, rats, also capybaras, horses, hamsters, dolphins

8. Last song you listened to? umm....tbh i’m currently listening to This Must Be The Place-The Talking Heads (i’ve been listening to the alternative love songs playlist on spotify and it’s giving me Feelings for some reason...) but also while i was outside i was listening to this and i also have to shout out this music video, which really fills my daily quota for dancing skeletons and that specific aesthetic that Must be Checked Out by You. i’m going off on a tangent here from the question but since i’ve been especially bored and unfocused on work lately, i also wanna mention Joining A Fan Club - Jellyfish because it’s....ugh, so sooo sooo goood.

9. Pets you have? None :( i used to have a dog tho.

10. Last film you saw in theaters? saw the sonic movie with @gooblchrob! it was so much fun!

11. Favorite food? maybe sushi?

12. Why did the chicken cross the road?

13. Do you wear socks to bed? depending on the weather

14. Favorite piece of clothing you have? i think currently it’s my pink sweater?? idk it changes constanty, much like myself.

15. What piece of media do you wish you had written? probably one of the cartoons from my childhood, although idk which one.

16. Name 5 artist you really want to see in concert? i wanna add ELO as an honorary mention because i’ve been thinking about it lately, but the memories associated with them make me a little too sad. so with that said, Ben Folds, Elton John, idk if musicals count for this question, but the Spongebob musical, Basement Jaxx, and i know the Hollywood Bowl had Danny Elfman doing the Nightmare Before Christmas music the last couple years, I would have liked to see that.

17. Last film that made you cry? maybe it was coco? tbh i don’t really cry at a lot of movies, so i don’t remember...

18. Top three ships ? any of @synchronysymphony‘s shrek fanfics, tbh

19. Last movie you watched? last movie i finished? Pan’s Labyrinth (it was good, but depressing). i started into the spiderverse today but didn’t really finish it because i kept getting distracted trying to multitask

20. Currently reading? it’s been so long since i’ve actually found the time and focus to sit down and finish reading a book, but my dad got me The Queens of Animation, which i really should read! it’s about the women who worked for the Disney studio.

i tag @sunny-day-sky @scarynibbles @gooblchrob @pizza-snake @lighteningmccain @clio-is-amused and anyone else who wants!

#dare-g #answer thing

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nowitsdarkfic · 5 years

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chapter one (the girl in the gutter)

“White on white translucent black capes, back on the rack. Bela Lugosi's dead. The bats have left the bell tower, the victims have been bled. Red velvet lines the black box... Bela Lugosi's dead.” -”Bela Lugosi’s Dead”, Bauhaus

October 12, 1988. Oswego, New York.

“Kill me now,” is what I say as I stare out the window.

The rain is my one true friend now. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to make a good friend on top of this--I’m sure everyone knows about it, the whole thing where if someone, and by someone I mean myself, wasn’t en route to a college or a university, or working a job already, they were kind of left out in the cold. Sure, there have been plenty of acquaintances, but as far as someone I could sit with and feel myself to be true with them, it’s been a while. The whole twisted thing about everything that happened was that it happened so quick. It was four years ago Scott and Frank told me I could hold the microphone in my hand. Four years ago, and last year we may as well have hiked up to the North Pole and stood up a big black flag with the word “NOT!” emblazoned on it, beholding the fact we had conquered the world in the wake of Cliff’s ashes. We rose up like the phoenix, and I was the man on fire.

There is absolutely nothing like standing out in the rain with all of your things taken out from the studio, slung over your shoulder, and your old band mates were the ones throwing you out there into the darkness while the gutters overflow over your head. There isn’t a feeling like it.

And if anyone believes that I had had enough, know for a fact I was asked to leave. I had vowed to rid of the problem, to replace all of the booze with black coffee. I mean, Jesus, I like to have fun with this sort of thing. What’s the point of doing it if I’m not going to have a little fun with it all every now and then? And it’s not like I was drinking a ton so to speak--at least I wasn’t doing those drug loaded pirate raids the four of them would do with Skid Row and Ratt. But I specifically recall telling Scott, verbatim, after he threatened to leave if I did nothing, that I would not have a sip of alcohol as long as I was a member of the band. And yet, for whatever reason, that promise did not suffice or click with any of them.

I think the sound of my phone ringing this morning and waking me up will haunt me for as long as I live. I still hear Jonny’s voice on the other end, telling me it was official. They had made the decision behind closed doors and I had been thrown out on my ass as of that morning, but he never elaborated why.

The next thing I remember was asking him why and the sound of the other end hanging up. No, Jonny, come back. Come back!

Fuck.

I lay there for a minute on my recliner before I even hung up the phone myself. I just reposed with the mouthpiece of the phone pressed to the side of my face, and the cord laying on my neck while I heard the drone of the dial tone right in my ear. They were like my friends, my first friends in a long time following high school, and yet they still showed their dark face to me. Something told me I stood at fault.

It was my fault. It was my fault the band was in turmoil and Frankie and Charlie had that massive blow up that day. It was my fault the new album coasted on the success of Among the Living. It was all my fault.

Once I hung up the phone, I could only crawl back into bed. I only did it for a bit because I refused to mope and wallow in my misery. Even as I took a walk outside, jacket zipped up and hands in my pockets, struggling to hold my head up high even though I sustained a huge punch in the stomach and slap in the face, within time, the lake began weeping with me. There’s a trail that runs along the water’s edge and when I’m in a depressive mood such as this, I take a walk along the soft earth there--I’m half Indian, I feel the cold earth deep within my soul. It’s a part of me. It’s my heart. Since it’s October, and the eve of my twenty-eighth birthday, the lake effect makes its way here, and often when I least expect it.

At one point during my walk, I noticed those feathery plumes emerging from the top of the water. I could feel the cold wind running through my hair and upon the crown of my head. I had to stop in place right next to boulder twice as large as me to better feel the cold. I had faith they were the act for me, such that I felt it in my bones. There’s nothing like this very feeling here.

They say someone is most themselves when they’re alone. Well, if the tears welling up in my eyes due in part to the pain in my chest or the incoming frigid rain should note anything, it’s that I’m alone.

When I came back to my apartment, I crawled inside of my own kitchen and a tiny box of Mike n Ikes for a bit. It’s not enough. A hollow skinny man needs to be filled up again. Maybe when the rain clears up a bit I’ll walk down to the Bitters for a cup and something of substance—a cup of Joey rather. It is a few hours before I turn twenty-eight, after all.

Twenty-eight years old. I joined Anthrax when I was twenty-three. It feels like a thousand years ago.

If there’s anything my mom taught me it’s to not bar grudges, though. No. I’m not like that. I don’t want to be like that. The very thought of such a thing nauseates me and leaves me feeling nothing more than disgusted with myself.

Oh... my mom. The very thought of her eases the pain and warms me up from within. It’s like eating soup on a freezing day: the room may be cold but the belly’s warm and that’s all that matters.

She and my dad are out of town right now, and I have no way of telling them I was fired because I don’t know if they left their hotel and are on the road at the moment, or not.

Twenty-eight years old and I’m spending it by myself. I live alone. I’m sitting here on my window sill looking out to the courtyard down below and watching the rain streak down the window pane. I feel the earth in my soul and she’s crying for me.

I don’t think this rain will let up any time soon and this candy is doing nothing. It’s not soup. And so I get up and head into my room for a change of the clothes and a warmer jacket: yeah, I should probably get out of this pajama shirt.

I’m taking my clothes off and out of the corner of my eye, I see my reflection in the mirror on my closet door. I’m standing there in the middle of my room in my underwear and holding a pair of jeans by the waistband, and I so happen to see this scrawny young guy staring back at me.

Not even a few hours after my release and I can see I’m wasting away, turning into nothing more than a skinny little sack of bones. My stomach is so slim, it’s like the top of a table. No, it’s like a broken, caved in surface of a table. I touch my skin, which is like touching a soft thin layer of cotton piled up on hard plywood. I need to eat something. No drinks, though: I’m not that cowardly.

I put my pants on and, once I’m zipped up, I run my fingers over my waist again. So thin.

Funny, it wasn’t more than a couple of years ago when we were in that warehouse filming the video for “Madhouse,” and I could look at my own face in the mirror across from me and feel like I had a lot going for me. I had a baby face, all round and sweet with these brown eyes and all of this black hair piled about my head, all of it as tightly coiled and coarse as the mane of a horse, and some of it springing up over the crown of my head. Now, I look like I aged about twenty years in no more than thirteen months. One of the many problems of being indigenous: I’m still just a young buck but I look like a senior with my skin sinking in and forming these odd lines. The fact I’m as skinny as I am adds to it.

I don’t feel like putting a shirt on. I changed out of my shirt for no shirt, how ‘bout that! So I put on my sweater over my body instead followed by my leather jacket. I’ve got this down.

I leave the apartment with the keys in my pocket and the hood pulled over my head, the sweater under my black leather, and my hands in the upholstered pockets. Even though there are clouds blanketing the sky overhead, I can tell the sun is setting and the light is fading. It’s a bit of a walk down to the Bitters but I’m hungry enough—I can walk there in time to get some food in my stomach and then boogie back with the last bus ride back to the complex.

Until then, I’m the man in black on this chilly evening, the tall wiry shadow making serious headway two and a half miles down the road. I have my head bowed to keep the rain out of my eyes. Maybe if I got the hell out of this town and wormed my way into the city like the little parasite that I am, Scott and the boys will take me back. I was the strange one after all: Scott and Danny had wives, Charlie and Frankie had girlfriends, whereas I went home alone. They were the essence of the city, I stood there pulling corn kernels out of my teeth. But on the other hand, out here in the sticks, I have no doubt this is home. It may not seem like much and there is a lot of bullshit to go about especially if it’s not living up near the colleges where my complex is, but for me, it’s home. I was born here, my parents live here, and my grandparents are buried in the cemetery.

I reach the corner and I feel the candy having not done enough for me. I can’t make it to the Bitters like this with my own stomach eating away at me.

I stop in place to catch my breath. I can’t do it. I need to get on the bus.

I glance to my right at the sight of the bus stop itself on the sidewalk up ahead and I take that opportunity; once I reach that glass case, I have both hands resting on my belly, I am absolutely starving.

It takes my boarding the bus and taking the seat next to a woman with long dark hair and wrapped in a raincoat when I realize this thing is taking me all the way out to the golf course and the country club. Oh God.

My stomach is killing me, and it only gets worse with the woman next to me stepping off before the interchange onto the highway. I have my back against the wall and my hands all the way into pockets, and my fingers up against my belly. The one thing separating me from my own skin is a small piece of flannel. I’m losing it, that is if I haven’t already lost it.

I’m watching the lights from the wharf illuminate the clouds overhead with the color of an orange creamsicle. The hunger and the candy having done enough is killing me. The country club is this way, and I think there’s also a bar nearby. Not that I want a drink but it’s one thing to bear in mind. Once we lumber closer to those low lights springing out of the darkness, I ring the bell over my head.

Even with the lights glowing out from the wharf, I can see the lake effect further taking place right now, which means I need to get a move on to shelter. This rain is already ridiculous and my pants are getting wet. I have my head bowed to keep the rain out of my eyes, but even that’s not enough. I’ve got an ache in my belly and I’m cold, but I’m not too far.

I feel a chill run up my spine and then bring my arms closer to my body. That bar is here somewhere, but where? The chill is growing worse and no matter what I do, I continue to feel cold. Where the hell is it?

I stop when I notice the figure in black, full in the middle and taking the shape of an hourglass, and with nothing more than a wispy cloud over its head. My skin is practically crawling at this point from the rain, which I feel will turn into snow at any given moment, and it’s only made colder by the sight of her, the sight of Death. She points a skeleton hand at me, stopping me dead in my tracks.

“Are you dead?” she asks in a voice that sounds like it’s about a mile away on the shores of Lake Ontario.

“N-No,” I stammer out, although I feel like I could be dead given my friends shut me out, my stomach is in agony, and the impending snow might freeze me above anything else.

“You must be on your way,” she retorts.

“I swear to you—my hand on my grandfather’s ashes—that I am not dead.”

“What’s your name, then?”

“Joseph Anthony Bellardini.” My voice is strong despite the incessant shivering. “But call me Joey Belladonna.”

I watch her fade out into the shadows and the cluster of spruces, bones and everything, like she never existed. I stand there, my hands crammed into my pockets and my teeth chattering like crazy. Was that Death? And if it was, does that mean I can go where it’s warm? And I still haven’t found the entrance to the country club, much less the bar.

A noise catches my ear. It’s dark except for the glow of the harbor lights and the stupid power plant over in the hills; but I look about the street until I spot the faint silhouette of a woman sprawled over the edge of the sidewalk. I look around and I can see I'm the only other person to be seen here.

I tug on the edge of the hood and run up the wet concrete. The snow is upon us, and running up the sidewalk in Chucks is dangerous, but I know for a fact there’s no one else around. I can see her face and once she comes within my line of sight, I can see the rope tied about her ankles. Once I reach her, I take a look into her rounded pale face and her black hair. She looks familiar...

It takes me a minute to see it’s the woman next to me on the bus. How’d she get here? I set one knee down next to her on the wet sidewalk, which soaks my jeans even more, but that’s the least of my problems right now.

“Hey! Hey, are you okay?” I ask her in a gentle voice. I reach for her face to look right at her.

“Are you okay?” I repeat. In the dim light, I see her part her lips but she never opens her eyes for me.

“He—Help—”

“It’s alright—it’s alright.”

“Help me—″ she sputters. I hear her groan in her throat and I knew something had happened that had to do with Death back there. The rain is relentless and my body is aching from cold and hunger but I know the club and the bar are not too far from here. I put my arms around her: she’s heavy! And the rope around her ankles only makes it harder for me. But I lean her head and shoulders against my chest, and once I stand to my feet, I clasp her to my chest with my right hand and brush her wet hair from her eyes to examine her face with my left. Even in the darkness, I can tell she’s gorgeous.

I glance around the block until I spot something on the other side of the street, like tucked behind something else. That’s either the bar or something else.

“Come on—come with me,” I coax her gently as I scoop her off of the sidewalk: my aching belly pains me even more, but I need to help this poor lady. “It’s okay—I’ve got you.” I adjust myself so that I can carry her without my back hurting on top of everything else.

“I'll take you where it’s warm,” I promise to her over the roar of the rain.

“Please—” her voice slips out from her lips like a piece of wind; “don’t hurt—me—”

“I won’t. I won’t, I promise.” I hold her close to me as I guide her down the sidewalk: it’s tricky because of the rope but I don’t think I have my pocket knife with me.

God dammit.

I reach the corner and I stop to move the hair from her face again. The light is a little better and as a result, I make out a narrow dark crease the length of my pinkie finger on her forehead. Whoever left her there must have left her there to die, hence my encounter with Death.

“What’s your name?” I ask her as the rain patters even harder around us. Even though I have her head against my chest, I smooth her hair back from her face even more. I just have the glow from the lights of the club nearby as my guide, but I can look right into her face. “What’s your name?”

“Maya,” she almost breathes it, her lips parted not even by a hair.

“Maya?” I repeat it because everything is so loud.

“Yes--” She’s fading fast. I slide my other arm under her thighs to better carry her. The dead weight of her body pulls me down like an anchor. I’ll starve to death before I let this woman die out here in the cold and wet.

“Okay, Maya. I’m Joey. Let’s go where it’s warm.” And without another word, I run across the grass to that little building tucked out of sight. I hope it’s the bar and not something else.

#joey belladonna #anthrax #heavy metal fanfics #fanfic #new fic #fanfiction #noir au #gothic horror #halloween stories #southern gothic #upstate new york #80s goth #thrash metal #heavy metal #writeblr #blackened dark flowers #after the watershed #chapter 1 #text

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weirdlizard26 · 5 years

Note

For the ask meme? All of them.

jay,,,

give me a sec to edit this post ok

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

wine glasses are like reading glasses except you wear them while drinking wine

i’d say water bottles but only the ones that can handle heat and stuff and not poison your drink with plastic or whatever

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

i havent had a lollipop in a good while so thats my choice

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

havent tried either but boy i’d love to try just a little bit of cotton candy at leastonce

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

bro,,,,,, that was like 10 years ago, how am i supposed to remember that,,,,,,,

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

i usually drink soda from plastic cups but honestly? nothing beats the experience of sipping that sweet sweet ambrosia from the bottle,,, but also i’d love to try soda in a can some day!

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

idk what half of these would look like but sportswear always wins in my book

7. earbuds or headphones?

ok i actually googled whats the difference and im more of an earbuds person! theyrejust safer i think and it makes me kinda anxious when im home listening tomusic and cant hear anything going on around me

8. movies or tv shows?

tv shows! well, unless the episodes are like 40 minutes or a full hour because its hard to focus for that long kfjsndkfs

9. favorite smell in the summer?

pavement after rain and also. grass.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

haha thats a funny joke you made there *starts crying*

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

just a couple of meat+cheese+mayo sandwiches! if its summer mom cuts tomatoes or cucumbers for us and as they start getting more and more expensive we replace them with pickles!

12. name of your favorite playlist?

sorry i couldnt choose!

13. lanyard or key ring?

key ring!

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

aaaa i love fruit flavored ones!

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

aaaaaaaa i dont remember if it was elementary or middle school but we were assigned this really cool ukrainian book that ive actually read before they assigned it. well, nobody here will recognize it but it was Тореадори з Васюківки by Всеволод Нестайко and it was about 2 boys who were best friends growing up in the countryside and they went on adventures and had fun and their friendship made me so happy,,, i guess i was all for cool friendship portrayal even back then! it was mostly laughs and jokes but some moments were actually serious and hit me really hard and i remember them to this day actually

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

its a myth, sitting was created as a personal attack on me

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

my trusty old sneakers!! theyre all black and the sole is very soft and nice

18. ideal weather?

when the sun is out and its just warm enough to show off your new graphic tee and also very soft and nice

19. sleeping position?

i just lie on my left side like a fool

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

notebook!

21. obsession from childhood?

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES!!! AND DANNY PHANTOM!!!! i even made a ghost fighting costume once,,,, tho it wasnt much of a costume, it was just fingerless gloves i cut out of paper. they were extremely uncomfortable. but very effective in fighting ghosts!

22. role model?

kfjsdnfk i have a bunch! might sound weird but one of them is bdg i think??? and the other 2 are some online acquaintances whom im too afraid to interact with more often than i do

23. strange habits?

repeating silly lines i hear on tv / in anime/cartoons? and also i never touch food with my right hand unless its plums?? and there are more but. you know. bad memory.

24. favorite crystal?

all of them!!!!!

25. first song you remember hearing?

my grandma used to sing this to me over the phone

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUPnqqPXQsw

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

go for a walk!

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

slep

28. five songs to describe you?

we are the people by empire of the sun

home by cavetown

strawberry blonde by mitski

smile like you mean it by the killers

afterlife by arcade fire

29. best way to bond with you?

wash your hands very thoroughly and make jokes

30. places that you find sacred?

i see nature i go crazy from how much respect i have for it

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass andtake names?

*wearing hinata cosplay* im here to play volleyball and kick your ass and as you can see ive already played today’s match

32. top five favorite vines?

road work ahead

a avocado!! thanks!!!!!

REBECCA THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK

i fell can you help me :(

that vine where ukulele sounds like human voices and people sounds like ukuleles

33. most used phrase in your phone?

idk how to check that??? sowwy

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

the stomach meds ad they keep showing on tv

35. average time you fall asleep?

3am? 4am? idk for sure

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

t-trollface…

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

havent used either (cause ive never traveled anywhere too far away) but the latter looks pretty and i feel like it would fit more stuff

38. lemonade or tea?

depends on my mood!

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

dont kick me but im not sure if ive ever tried either ;w;

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

the school’s cat who hates most people actually kinda warmed up to me even tho im terrible with animals

41. last person you texted?

jay uwu

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

afabs cant have both huh

but i want both. please give me both.

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

all of these sound nice but my lazy ass will always go for hoodies

44. favorite scent for soap?

aaaaaaaa im allergic to a lot of soaps but i like flower scented ones

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

i love all of them dearly but lately ive been more into superheroes i think. im not sure really sure what exactly i feel

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

something really really long

47. favorite type of cheese?

there are different types????

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

i hope im a pear

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

become a good person. thats all.

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

i dont remember what it was but i remember i was with my friends and we couldnt stop laughing for several minutes and ive never felt happier

51. current stresses?

UNIVERSITY FUCK OFF!!!

52. favorite font?

i like comic sans

53. what is the current state of your hands?

they arent doing so hot tbh, my dermatitis is back again

54. what did you learn from your first job?

i dont have one!

55. favorite fairy tale?

gonna be honest chief, i dont remember too many of them ;w;

56. favorite tradition?

on new year’s we turn the lights off, light up a candle in the kitchen, laugh at president’s speech and only then starts eating

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

getting over a lost friendship, passing high school finals and uni entrance exams and coming out to my best friend

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

singing!! being able to learn how to do most things pretty quickly!!! and i cant think of anything else but honestly these two are quite enough for me

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

uh oh! guess what! i dont have a catchphrase and im very self-conscious about it!

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

im torn between sports anime and slice of life

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

because humans dont have wings we look for other ways to fly

from haikyuu

obviously

62. seven characters you relate to?

tsukishima kei from haikyuu

mae borowski from nitw

apollo justice from ace attorney

flame princess from adventure time

donatello from tmnt

sokka from atla

kageyama shigeo from mob psycho 100

63. five songs that would play in your club?

mr brightside, bohemian rhapsody, smile like you mean it by the killers and allof haikyuu ops and eds

64. favorite website from your childhood?

if social media counts, vkontakte i guess?? i didnt really go anywhere else and it still exists and i thriving so im not sure if it should count fkjsndkjf

65. any permanent scars?

yeah, the one from my very first vaccination from when i was a few months old i think and also some traces of when i had chickenpox

66. favorite flower(s)?

idk a lot of flower names but i really like tulips

67. good luck charms?

dont have any at the moment but i’d love to get one!

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

whatever fish mom used to buy when we were kids >:(

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

bro my memory isnt good enough to remember those,,

70. left or right handed?

im a righty but i had to become a lefty for like a month when i broke my pinkie

71. least favorite pattern?

i like traditional ukrainian ornaments

72. worst subject?

history :P

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

ice cream + fries

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

idk how pain levels work but i try not to take meds unless the pain is interfering with studying

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

idk but i had a box full of my teeth for so long they turned to dust and i had to throw it away

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

RHNGRHGNRHGRNH EVERYTHING except for freshly made mashed potatoes

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

if its green it can stay

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

have never had either of those and i hope i never will cause they sound gross!

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

i dont have a license, so.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

kfjsndfks depends on the mood tbh!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

fireflies!

82. pc or console?

i WISH i had a console but this is too broke for that,, i played a couple of times tho and it feels more fun than pc!

83. writing or drawing?

please dont make me choose, ive abandoned both and its making me feel bad

84. podcasts or talk radio?

podcasts :O

84. barbie or polly pocket?

idk what polly pocket is but barbie rules!!!

85. fairy tales or mythology?

i feel like sometimes fairy tales are kinda like watered down myths so i have a right to say i like both

86. cookies or cupcakes?

my heart goes to cookies

87. your greatest fear?

finding out im faking any part of my identity

88. your greatest wish?

get through whatever’s going on right now

89. who would you put before everyone else?

mom

90. luckiest mistake?

when i recorded an undertale medley and got a few notes wrong but it actually ended up sounding better than originally

91. boxes or bags?

boxes!

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

fairy lights……

93. nicknames?

never really had many? my bff calls me mr smith sometimes but thats all i can think of fkjsdnfs but also! steve used to be my nickname before i decided my life my own and i get to choose my name

94. favorite season?

spring ;w;

95. favorite app on your phone?

sudoku

96. desktop background?

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

my own and my mom’s

98. favorite historical era?

eh im not very fond of the past because not every time period had soap

#wl26 #wl26 answers #flamingerrs #jay just so you know i love you a whole lot #i really did that huh #long post

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perissologist · 5 years

Text

another installation of perissologist posts random shit from her googledocs:

Four shots of Grey Goose, a glass of Lagavulin, and a cold Corona later, Danny finds himself on the dance floor, the music pulsing thickly in his blood, a gorgeous girl with dark red hair in a glittery sequined dress moving against him with her arms around his neck. He tilts his head back and lets himself melt into the heat pressing in around him, the lights and the noise that bind the club in a dizzying spell. He’s trying to enjoy himself, but his migraine from earlier is back with a vengeance, made all the worse by the alcohol that makes his head feel like it’s about to fall off his shoulders. The girl smiles at him, green eyes glittering, and leans in to mouth at his neck. She smells like expensive perfume and lime juice, and when she kisses him, her lips taste like Patrón.

Danny swallows past the cotton in his mouth and rests his hands on the girl’s hips. He gently pushes her back. “Sorry, I gotta go,” he says in her ear, hoping he’s loud enough to be heard over the music. She merely smiles at him, uncomprehending, and Danny sighs, deciding it’s not worth it. He turns and pushes his way through the crowd, stumbling off the dance floor and down the narrow flight of stairs to the men’s room in the basement floor.

He’s relieved to find it empty—somewhat grimy, but blessedly quiet. Danny stumbles to the sink, head swimming, and looks at himself in the mirror. His hair’s a mess from where the girl ran her fingers through it, and his eyes are bloodshot, bruised underneath. He looks awful, and feels it, too.

One of the fluorescent lights above the mirrors flickers, humming with the sound of broken circuits. A pipe in the exposed ceiling is dripping a pool of water onto the blue-tiled floor. The music from the club above echoes down into the room, the words muffled but the beats heavy enough to shake the walls. Danny closes his eyes and feels the world sway around him. The DJ’s playing some shitty EDM remix of Dancing Queen, but a floor removed, all of the tricks and frills fall away, and it sounds like what his mother would put on their old record player on rainy Saturday nights, making dinner together in the kitchen and singing along to the crackly vinyls.

Slowly, quietly, Danny becomes aware of something in the air. It feels heavy at his back, significant—like the change in air pressure before a summer storm, or the strain of a held breath. A tension, that sings to Danny and beckons him to turn around. When he does, his eyes are drawn, inexplicably, to the puddle on the floor. The pipe has stopped dripping; the puddle it formed is round and smooth, perfectly still. It reflects the walls and ceiling of the bathroom as well as the mirrors above the sink. The water is dark, but the way it catches the one faulty fluorescent light from the sink—it almost looks as if there is something moving inside it.

An inescapable feeling of dread curdles in Danny’s stomach. He becomes certain that there is something inside of the puddle.

Danny stumbles back and fumbles for his phone. He freezes with it in his hand, staring at the dark shape writhing below the surface of the puddle. What is he thinking, he can’t call the police—what would I say? I’m in the men’s room at a nightclub and there’s a puddle and I think there’s a monster’s in it?

The phone suddenly clatters from Danny’s nerveless fingers. He stares, breathless, as a clawed hand breaks free from the surface of the puddle and latches onto the tiled floor.

Fuck! he shouts in his head. The claw scrapes against the floor and pulls out a shapeless mass. The mass writhes for a moment, then abruptly consolidates into a deformed head and a set of shoulders. Eight milky-white eyes open in the expressionless face and lock onto him. Black skin stretches over the emaciated frame, so dark it’s more the absence of light than a color. Danny chokes on the horror rising in his throat. The…thing—it seems as if it’s forming as it emerges, and the shape it takes on is roughly bipedal, but—Danny cannot understand how it’s alive. It looks…burned. Like a child’s nightmare of a corpse.

Demon, the thought breaks into Danny’s mind. It’s a demon.

The creature pulls the rest of its body out of the puddle and unfurls to its full height. It towers over Danny, pupiless eyes blinking, utterly silent. Danny thinks that if it were snarling, or screaming, he might be less afraid, might be able to move his feet and run—but it makes no noise, just looms there, sucking all the air from the room.

Danny feels like the walls are warping around him, like the next nearest human soul is a million miles away, like reality is a flimsy piece of paper mâché that’s crumpling in on itself. The demon moves forward and opens its mouth, and for a second Danny is convinced that it will speak to him, only he can’t fathom what a demon’s voice would sound like so he can only imagine his own—

The door to the bathroom bangs open, and someone strides in. It takes Danny’s terror-strung brain a second to process, but when it does, he recognizes her: Green eyes, red hair, and a sheath dress that glitters like a newly minted coin. The girl, he thinks, as she comes to a stop in front of him, facing the demon. The girl I was dancing with.

The girl seems utterly unfazed by the monstrous creature, and for a moment Danny thinks she must not see it—but then she sneers at it, like it’s shit on the bottom of her shoe. She’s going to die, Danny thinks, frantically, and pushes himself off from where he’s pressed against the sink, intending to move in front of her—

The girl reaches into the jewel-encrusted clutch hanging from her skinny shoulder. Her hand closes around something. Then, as Danny watches, she pulls an enormous silver sword from the confines of her tiny purse, like a magician pulling an endless rainbow scarf from his hat.

The sword flashes through the air as the girl swings it at her side. She grins, wide and delighted; the look in her eyes as she sizes the demon up is hungry, predatory. The demon opens its mouth again and this time it shrieks; then it launches itself at the girl, its scream echoing through the empty stalls. The girl raises the sword and slashes it downwards just as the demon reaches her. It bisects the creature mid-leap, slicing it clean across the chest from shoulder to hip. The two halves of the demon fall apart and thud to the floor.

The girl straightens and smirks as the remains of the creature crumble into ash. She turns, then, and fixes her eyes on Danny. Any breath that remained in his lungs during his valiant fight not to pass out leaves him now. The demon was blatantly horrifying, but—the look on the girl’s face, the smile she wears; they speak of infinite intelligence, and a malevolent glee. Above all, she looks at him the same way she looked at the demon before she cut it down: With the absolute lack of fear and an all-consuming hunger.

“Hello,” she purrs. Her voice is the same sweet, breathy one he heard when she first pulled him onto the dance floor, but now it rumbles with the power of thunder, shaking the room. The sink trembles under Danny’s white-knuckled grip. “I know you.”

Danny swallows. “Who—who are you?”

The girl tilts her head. “Curious,” she says. “You could see it, couldn’t you?”

Danny’s gaze flickers to the pile of ash behind her, and that’s all the answer she needs. She lets out a delighted laugh. The stall doors rattle in their frames. “You could. I knew it.” She steps closer, stiletto heels clicking against the floor. The tip of her sword, held lazily in her hand, drags across the tile with a thin, metallic screech. “But you’re not one of us.” She leans in, close enough that he can smell her perfume again, and inhales. After a moment, she draws back, eyes even brighter than before. “But you're not a stitcher, either. So how could you see it?”

I’m both, Danny wants to say, but the words lodge in his throat. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but—no, he’s not seeing things. The air behind the girl is warping, folding in on itself like an invisible fist has grabbed hold of reality and is twisting. When Danny doesn’t answer, the girl heaves a sigh and shrugs. “Oh well,” she murmurs. She reaches out a manicured hand and runs it gently through Danny’s hair. “I’m still hungry. I think you’d make an excellent desert, don’t you?”

Fuck, Danny thinks, again, just before a bright flash of white forces him to look away. When it fades, Seraphine and Elias are standing between him and the girl, holding tall white staffs that gleam with the shine of polished wood.

The girl falls back. “You again,” she spits in disgust. Her eyes are on Seraphine. “I told you I’d kill you if you came back here.”

“Yes, Natalia, we know how you like to be dramatic,” Seraphine snaps. Then she grips her staff sideways in both hands and uses it to shove the girl back and into the warped-looking spot in the air behind her.

The girl vanishes, like she was sucked up by some unseen force. Seraphine whirls on Danny. “Close it!”

“I—what?” Danny stutters.

Seraphine jabs a finger at the anomaly. Danny jumps as the sound of furious screeching seems to penetrate from another room. “The tear—close it!”

“What does that mean?” Danny demands.

Seraphine growls, the sound shaking the floor underneath Danny’s already unsteady feet. The disembodied screeching is getting louder. “Stitch it closed!”

Oh. Oh. “For fuck’s sake!” he half-shouts. He pushes forward, past Elias and Seraphine, and shoves his hand up against the warp hole. A hot electric shock flashes through his body, but he forces himself to concentrate, to pull loose a memory important enough to heal this particular wound—

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, his mother across from him. The windows are open and radiant with sunshine. A sweet summer breeze blows through the house, carrying the scents of freshly cut grass and rain-wet reeds into all the dusty corners. A perfect Sunday afternoon.

“Focus, Danny,” Alia laughs. He gives her a guilty smile and brings his attention back to her hands. She’s showing him how to thread the yarn through the other strands on the loom so that the strings don’t tangle. “Over, under, all the way to the end; then pull it straight and push it down.” Her fingers move nimbly over the wooden frame as she talks.

In the window, the afternoon sun grows brighter and brighter. It expands into the kitchen, eating away at the walls and ceiling, threatening to obliterate everything in Danny’s vision. In the past, he nods, pretending to look interested, but Alia can see straight through him. She clucks her tongue at him disapprovingly. “I know it’s boring to learn, but weaving is a family tradition, Danny,” she says. The light grows until it encompasses everything inside the room. The last thing he sees before the memory is swallowed is his mother’s persuasive smile. “One day, you can teach your kids, too…”

Danny opens his eyes. The bathroom is quiet and still, but not the unnatural, prickling stillness from before; a softer quiet, broken by the sounds of squeaky plumbing and distant footsteps, the club music still thumping from the floor above. The warp hole is gone. Danny looks down. The puddle is still there, but the pile of ashes has disappeared. The scratch on the floor from the girl’s giant sword is gone, too.

Danny starts when Seraphine grabs his arms. He looks up to find her beaming at him. “It worked!” she exclaims. She sounds absolutely exhilarated. “You stitched the tear! It actually worked!”

Danny swallows past his dry throat. “If you’d like,” he begins, as steadily as he can manage, “could you tell me what the fuck just happened here?”

“You entered a liminal space,” Elias says. He’s holding Seraphine’s staff for her and looks more uncertain than Danny thinks he has the right to be, given that he actually knows what’s going on here. “The tears in the planes that we told you about, they form narrow slices of parallel realities that exist between realms. Because liminal spaces don’t belong to any one plane, they inspire activity from all three.” He waves to the puddle on the floor. “You know that demons spawn from still water.”

Danny shudders out an exhale. “I guess I do now,” he says, and he does—upon searching, he finds that the knowledge is already familiar. He just doesn’t remember where he learned it.

“The unbalanced energy of liminal spaces—how should I put this—encourages…events.” Elias looks upward, and Danny follows his gaze to the leaky pipe in the exposed ceiling, the one that dripped the puddle onto the floor. “I guarantee you that even if a plumber came in every day to fix that pipe, it still would have somehow managed to drip the water needed to form a body big enough for that demon to spawn.”

“Let me get this straight,” Danny says. “You’re saying there’s a liminal space in this bathroom? In the basement of a Vegas nightclub?” He pauses. “In the men’s bathroom?”

#every bathroom in the basement of a vegas nightclub is a liminal space i don't make the rules #writing #spirits

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diinofayce · 6 years

Text

Like A Whisper In The Night - 16

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC (Layne Hardin) | Word Count: 2,144 | Warnings: Angst, Angsty-fluff, implied smut, drugs and alcohol mentions, mentions of torture, language | A/N: This is a little bit of a filler chapter to help round out the series to end on a nice even 20 chapters. Inspiration was taken from Gasoline by Halsey | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Layne laid in her bed staring up at her ceiling. She had told Bucky she just needed some time alone to grieve and promised that she would be fine. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, but respected her wishes and reluctantly kissed her softly in the threshold of her room before letting the door separate them. She changed into cotton pajama shorts and a worn Megadeth t-shirt that was thinned with age and riddled with holes. One leg was twisted in her orange comforter that smelled so strongly of Bucky from when he stayed in her room while she was gone, the other dangling off the side of her bed swinging softly. Layne had tried opening up her balcony door to let the night air breeze in, but even that didn’t help to settle her thoughts.

Her mind was like a bull in a china shop, cramped and raging and confused and lost and breaking every. Damn. Thing. Around. It. Layne groaned in frustration and tangled her fingers roughly in her hair, tugging sharply until her scalp tingled in pain. She squeezed her eyes shut forcefully, willing her brain to just shut off and go to sleep. She didn’t want to think about Danny, she didn’t want to think about her parents, she didn’t want to think about Ava List or Hydra or the things she did…was forced to do…no…did willingly so that she wouldn’t be beat anymore. FRIDAY and everyone else in the tower may call her Agent Hardin, but she was anything but a real agent. She wasn’t a soldier, or a super spy, or in any way able to keep any semblance of composure under duress. Layne begged and she pleaded and she cried and it didn’t matter, so she killed for them because then the pain stopped and that’s what kept her up at night.

The Avengers put everyone before themselves else time and time again. Steve almost dies on a daily basis just so someone else will be safe. Layne felt a scream settled in her chest, begging to tear out of her throat, but she swallowed it down. She let out a soft growl, as if trying to placate the urge to just scream herself to sleep and when that didn’t work she swung both her legs out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, Layne was satisfied to see the hospital gown still hanging in front of her mirror, the last thing she wanted to look at was the darkness she couldn’t stop seeing in her eyes.

Layne knew Bucky drank through most of her reserves while she had been kidnapped, but she was pretty sure in thinking that one bottle would be safe. Reaching into the cabinet under the sink, she pushed the cleaning supplies out of the way and pressed her hand against the back wall. The false back fell away and Layne came out with an expensive bottle of champagne, she had nicked it from one of Tony’s fancy parties and had been saving it for a special occasion. Sitting on the lip of her bathtub she ripped the foil off and carefully twisted off the wire cage. Pointing the cork away from her she hit the neck with palm of her hand once, twice, three times and the cork flew out of the neck with a loud pop, foam flowing freely from the bottle and splashing across her feet and tile. Layne ran her tongue up the side of the bottle, sucking the foam into her mouth and took one deep swallow. Her cheeks pushed out from her mouth being full of the expensive champagne, she looked at the label and then immediately leaned over and spit the alcohol into the toilet. Layne let out a heavy groan and before she could change her mind, dropped the bottle - mouth down - into the toilet.

Layne dug back into her little secret hiding hole and came out with a mason jar stuffed with laundry dryer sheets. Opening the lid she pulled the sheets out and chucked them in the trash before pulling out a little baggie of marijuana and some rolling papers. She pulled this jar out only in emergencies, when sleep just evaded her all night. Layne got her stock from one of the bartenders at the little dive bar she played at some Wednesdays. Opening the baggie, she stuck her fingers in and pulled a little bud out rolling it carefully between her thumb and pointer finger. The batch was about three weeks old now and was drier than the desert, the whole baggie was nothing more than ditch weed at this point. Sighing she crumbled it apart and spread it in a thin line on a paper, rolling it tightly and licking it closed. Layne placed the joint between her lips, flicked her lighter alive and paused with the flame raised. She suddenly threw the lighter with a yell out of the bathroom where it hit the far wall and fell to the floor with a clatter, she removed the joint from her mouth and held it gently between her pointer and middle finger. Layne watched the little joint shake in her quaking hands before she crumpled it in her fist with a growl and deposited the ball of paper and green into the sink.

Layne couldn’t get her brain to stop, flipping through the faces and memories of the girls from the bunker. Her feet moved on their own and with each step a name and face came to her.

Sarah. Porcelain skin, blond, mascara down her face. A memory of sitting on a floor surrounded by books with an orange kitten in her lap.

Cora. A beautiful lanky girl with dark, flawless skin. Brown doe eyes and soft curly hair that was matted with blood. A memory of her dancing in the club with her friends before the cute boy she had been flirting with had drug her out into the alley and into a van.

A small girl with fiery red hair, blue eyes, and freckles for days. The Avengers had concluded her ID to be fake so she probably wasn’t old enough to get into the bar. All Layne knew about the girl was a memory of her laying in bed with a beautiful woman, their naked limbs tangled as the morning sun brushed over her lover’s face. ‘I love you’ they whispered to each other as the memory was sliced by Layne ripping the girl’s soul from her body.

When Layne’s feet stopped moving it took her a moment to realize she was outside Bucky’s door. She took a shaky breath to calm her nerves before raising her hand and knocking softly. It didn’t even take ten seconds for Bucky to whip the door open wide, his hair tangled and the bags under his eyes puffy and dark. Layne winced and looked down at her toes, her hands rubbing up and down her arms.

“I’m not fine,” Layne whispered desperately before she was engulfed by Bucky’s arms. As soon as his scent engulfed her the sob tore from her throat and Bucky was picking her up and carrying her into his room, closing the door behind him with his foot.

Bucky set Layne down in the mound of pillows and the comforter of his bed and crawled in next to her, pulling the comforter up over the both of them and pulled her tight to his chest. Bucky kissed the top of her head softly, humming an old tune from the thirties, and rubbed his hand up and down her spine letting her cry herself out into his shirt. Their legs tangled together as Layne tightened her grip on his shirt and just came apart in his arms. Everything from the last few weeks just came pounding down on her and she felt her chest constricting and it was becoming harder to suck in air between her sobs.

Bucky pulled back slightly and tipped Layne’s chin up to look at him. “Hey. You’re panicking and I need you to breath, doll. Look at me, breath with me.” Bucky over-exaggerated his breathing to make it easy for Layne to match.

Layne locked gaze with Bucky, his icy blue gaze cutting through all the ghosts in her brain like a hot knife, her breath coming back to her in between soft hiccups. Bucky reached up and swiped the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks to swipe away her tears and Layne turned her head to kiss his vibranium palm, a small loving smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward and placed a tiny kiss to the tip of her nose and she gave a watery giggle.

“No one expects you to be okay, Layne,” Bucky finally whispered, afraid for some reason to talk too loud.

Layne broke his gaze and looked down to fiddle with the V of Bucky’s shirt. “I just…I don’t know how to compartmentalize this. I don’t know how to accept what has happened and just move on.”

Bucky reached out slowly and softly tucked hair out of the way of the enhancer and it’s little spinning gears, making a mental note to ask Tony about creating some sort of covering or something for it. He raked his stormy eyes over her face, down the the soft slope of her nose to her lips that were red and raw from her chewing on them. “Show them to me,” he demanded softly and Layne’s caramel eyes flicked up to his with fear and confusion.

“What?” she gasped softly, not understanding his request.

“Let me compartmentalize them for you. There is nothing you could show me that would make me look at you any different, that would change how I feel about you,” Bucky assured, pressing a kiss softly to her forehead.

Layne shook her head. “How is it you feel about me?”

Bucky licked his lips and searched her eyes as if he could find the words he wanted in them. “I feel like I need you because you keep me calm and grounded. I spent so long under Steve’s shadow with him trying to protect me, having you around has given me a weird sense of purpose. I feel terrified because you keep yourself standing against these walls you’ve built and I’m afraid that you don’t actually need me like I hope you do. I feel like I could be falling in love with you and I’m worried after all of this is said and done you’re going to want to leave.”

The raw honesty that poured from Bucky made Layne’s heart speed up and the breath to freeze in her lungs. “That…is a lot of feeling.” Layne finally responded. Her eyes searched Bucky’s face and caught him trying to brace himself for her rejection, for her to run. “I’m afraid that I’m going to let all my walls down and let you in and you’re going to see how much work I am and not want anything to do with it. That you’re going to wipe your hands of me and walk away and I’m going to have to rebuild. I’m afraid of falling in love with you because every version of love that I have experienced has been so warped and twisted that I’m not sure I know what it even is. I feel like a fucking hurricane and I don’t want to destroy you.”

“Each love is different. We can figure ours out as we go, that’s okay. Just know that you aren’t in this alone, if you need to just get the stuff beating you up in your head out…I’m here for you. I want to help. You can’t destroy me, I’m pretty damn resilient,” Bucky promised, nuzzling her nose with his.

Layne pressed her lips against Bucky’s. It started slow and soft, her tears still drying on her cheeks, but it turned hungry and desperate quickly. Layne’s fingers drifted lower and slipped between Bucky’s shirt and skin, her finger tips tracing the hard planes of his abs. Bucky’s hands settled firmly on Layne’s hips, pulling her close against him, his need growing and pressing into her stomach. Layne needed him, needed the distraction of his touch, of his taste. If she overfilled her senses on Bucky then maybe everything else would just quiet down.

Bucky was not unaware to Layne’s strategy, but as more clothing was pulled off and hands got a little more adventurous Bucky gave into what Layne was desperately telling him she needed. He knew she would talk to him when she was ready, just like she came to him when she was ready. Bucky would always wait for Layne because knew how exhausting it was to run.

NEXT CHAPTER

#bucky x ofc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fandom #avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel fandom #marvel fanfic #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky fandom

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martxoa · 6 years

Text

Why Yes, I Have Written a Fanfic of a Fanfic: The Fanfic.

Okay, a bit of background: @ariabauer wrote The Ultimate Coffee Shop AU, which I highly recommend. It is literally a coffee shop AU of Laura as a barista playing matchmaker by manufacturing various coffee shop AU tropes for its patrons. Which is as fluffy as it sounds.

There’s a brief cameo of Elle/Danny (my personal favorite crackship) because, and I’m paraphrasing, ‘you spent so long working on it that when I needed ships I thought ‘yes, this amuses me let’s do it.’ xD Which I appreciated.

I mentioned in the comments that I was half tempted to write a little spinoff of it and I kind of...well here ya go. A brief telling of the Coffee Shop AU from Elle’s POV.

(For the record, none of this is canon to the fic it was inspired by. This was something I wrote last night because I had writer’s block.)

Lastly, thanks again to Aria for the cameo who like...I hope won’t find me writing this...too weird...? :P Fic under the cut:

Elle liked the coffee and it was on her way to study group in the library.

That was the only reason she still went to her ex girlfriend’s coffee shop.

Her roommates liked to tease her. Well, Charlotte--Emily was too nice to continue after the first time Elle pushed them away with a grumpy, “quit it guys.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh come on, Elle, it’s funny,” Charlotte caught back up with her again and gently bumped her hip. “You broke up with Carmilla and you still show up every month to flirt with her.”

“I do not flirt with her,” Elle huffed.

“Then why do you always talk to her and not the other girl?”

“Who, Laura?” Elle stopped and started laughing. “Guys, she’s terrible at making coffee. It’s kind of funny. I don’t know why she works there. Once Carmilla wasn’t at the counter and Laura made my coffee and I’m pretty sure that she didn’t even know what I ordered. She just threw a bunch of stuff in a cup and then threw sprinkles on it. The only thing she understood was ‘sprinkles.’”

“I don’t know, maybe they just don’t have enough people to work there?” Emily suggested. “She’s really nice. I’ve gone in a few times during her shift.”

Elle nodded. The three girls stopped in front of the shop and Elle turned to face them.

“I like the coffee,” she stated. “That is it. I swear. Besides, I’m pretty sure Laura is like, really into her anyway.”

Of course she was nice to Carmilla at the counter. It made things less awkward for both of them. But that didn’t necessarily mean she was flirting.

“She is?” Emily gasped. “Oh, that would actually be kind of nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Everytime I talk to Carmilla she stares at me like I kicked her puppy.” Elle shrugged and turned away from them. “I’ll meet you guys at the library, unless you want coffee.”

“No, we’re good,” Charlotte answered. “We get ours at Starbucks. See you Elle.”

“You know Starbucks is like, fake hipster now!” Elle called after them. She laughed a little to herself before she walked into Carmilla and Laura’s store.

Elle walked to the counter. There was a little bell and she tapped it, turning around and looking at the store.

She always felt a little...strange being in there. The coffee was great--well, if Carmilla made it--but it was always full of couples. More than any other place she’d ever been to. Everyone was paired up with somebody except for, Elle noticed, one lady sitting near the aisle. Which was new.

She was a girl with long red hair tied up in a braid, swiping away at something on a tablet with a coffee in hand. She looked totally serene, smiling softly at whatever she was reading. Elle found herself watching her for a few moments.

“Hey Elle! What can I get you?”

Elle was startled out of watching Cute Redhead Coffee Girl by Laura. “Oh! Um, hey Laura.”

“Hello, Elle. What can I get ya’?”

She tilted her head a little. “No Carmilla today?”

“Busy,” she answered curtly, still smiling cheerfully. Elle frowned a little.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll have my usual iced chocolate mocha with a shot of espresso topped with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles.”

“Coming right up!”

She disappeared to make the coffee. Elle waited with some trepidation. Laura finally walked back out, holding the coffee.

“There you go.”

Elle took it. It wasn’t as perfect as when Carmilla made it, but it was definitely not undrinkable. “Thank you,” Elle said politely. She dropped her money into Laura’s hand, turning around and beginning to walk out. She was going to pass right by Redhead Girl, and Elle tried not to look at her. She didn’t want to be weird.

“Oh, Elle, wait! I forgot your sprink--”

She felt Laura hit her, sending Elle flying. Elle felt like she had been tackled from behind in a game of football. She braced herself for hitting the floor.

Except she didn’t.

Because she landed in someone’s lap. The iced coffee fell all over both of them and Elle spluttered, wiping at her face.

“What just happ--”

Elle opened her eyes and completely forgot what she was saying.

The girl was looking down at her. Coffee was staining the front of her baseball jacket, and her face was turning bright red.

“I’ll go get you a new drink,” Laura said, turning around. Elle thought that maybe she heard a hint of smugness in Laura’s voice.

She really, really didn’t care at the moment.

Because the girl was looking at her. Right at her.

“Uh...hi,” she stated.

“Hi.”

They stared at each other for another beat before Elle realized what was happening.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry!” Elle scrambled out of her lap, ending up on the floor. She looked up at the girl, smiling sheepishly. “You have coffee all over you. I didn’t get your tablet wet, did I?”

She smiled. “No, you’re good--here.” She held out her hand and Elle took it. Her hand was warm and a little wet from the coffee. Elle stood up.

“My name is Elle, by the way.”

“Danny Lawrence.”

“Sheridan. I mean, my last name is Sheridan. Since you gave me your last name and I didn’t give you mine. My full name is Elle Sheridan.”

Danny unzipped her baseball jacket, revealing a soft cotton flannel. She shrugged the jacket off.

“Did you want to sit?” Danny asked.

“I have a study group,” Elle said, before she could stop herself.

“Oh. Okay…”

Laura wasn’t back with the coffee yet. Elle shifted in place uncomfortably, her throat dry.

“I’m a brit lit major,” Elle added, trying to figure out what to say. Danny’s face lit up.

“Hey, I’m an English major! I’m a TA for Professor Cochrane.”

And the moment she saw Danny’s smile light up, Elle knew she would sacrifice a test grade for this.

“Actually, you know what, I feel good about my next test.” Elle sat down. “So, you come here often?”

It was a terrible line, which Elle realized right after she said it, but Danny leaned in and had no problem with it.

“Elle, I have your coffee!” Laura walked back to the table. “Here you go.”

“Right, thanks,” Elle answered absentmindedly, fumbling with her hand behind her, not even bothering to look back. She finally managed to grab the coffee and put it down on the table. She kept talking to Danny for a few minutes until Danny sighed, looking at her jacket again.

“I should probably get this washed,” she said. “I think there’s a laundromat near here.”

“Yeah, I should do that too,” Elle grabbed her blouse, which was clinging from the wetness. “I can come with you?”

Danny tilted her head and smirked. “Don’t you need clothes to, you know, change into?”

Elle blushed. “Y-yeah, of course--”

“I mean I definitely wouldn’t complain, but I would think you would want to bring some.”

Elle bit her lip. Danny rubbed the back of her neck.

“Sorry. I was joking. Too risque?”

“I think that was just the right amount, to be honest.”

Danny coughed and took a sip of her coffee.

“You know,” Elle added, “I mean...I live with a couple of roommates and we have a washing machine in our apartment. If you don’t want to spend the money.”

Danny’s face turned a shade darker and Elle shook her head.

“I mean you’d literally just be doing your laundry, gosh. You’re cute but you’re not that cute.”

Danny’s eyes widened. She got up, grabbing her tablet.

“That’s really nice of you,” Danny said carefully. “I would...yeah, I guess that wouldn’t hurt.”

Elle grinned. She bit the knuckle of her thumb as Danny turned and started to leave before she followed Danny.

As it turned out, Elle lied. Right before Danny left her apartment, she couldn’t resist slipping her number into the pocket of her now clean jacket before she left. So it was a little more than laundry. But only a little.

It turned into a club that met in the library. The Laura Hollis Matchmaking Club. Elle didn’t really want to join.

“Danny, do you understand how awkward it is to try and get my ex girlfriend together with a new girlfriend?”

“Listen, Elle, you don’t have to do anything.” Danny grabbed Elle’s shoulders and gave her a quick kiss. “But Laura is my friend and I need to do this for her.”

Elle pouted.

“I mean, don’t I owe Laura?” Danny grinned. “If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have the best girlfriend in the world.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Lawrence,” Elle mumbled, trying to look stern even as Danny kept kissing down the side of her face. She finally gave in. “Besides, I still think it's weird. Laura is playing God. That's strange.”

“Mm-hm, and you're complaining?”

“You know what? Hand me my jacket.”

“You're coming?”

“To support my girlfriend? Sure. Besides, maybe playing Cupid will be fun.”

Of course, Elle’s suggestions were not exactly well received at first.

“Alright, operation Hollstein Coffee Shop AU is a go,” LaFontaine said, writing on a whiteboard. “We're going to do a flow chart. Any ideas?”

Elle raised her hand.

“Uh...Sheridan.”

“Blow something up,” Elle suggested.

LaFontaine grinned at her, giving her an air high five.

“No, we are not blowing anything up!” Perry gasped.

“I'm not saying anyone should get hurt,” Elle protested. “Just something for them to bond over. Danny?”

Her girlfriend, arm slung around Elle’s shoulders, looked away from her.

“Really, sweetheart?”

“Elle, you just think it'd be funny to have something blow up in Carmilla's face.”

“If you have any better ideas--”

“Lawrence, control your woman,” Mel said. “Seriously.”

“That's sexist,” Elle and Danny answered at the same time.

“I'm just saying the ex girlfriend shouldn’t have a huge say in this, you know?”

“Bros, why don’t we just get them to share a brownie or something?” Kirsch suggested. “It worked for me and SJ!”

Everyone else agreed. Elle rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. It was decided that they would be the ones that would come in at the end of a shift, and get a brownie. Then it was up to them to figure out how to get Laura and Carmilla to split it.

“How do you want to do this, Elle?” Danny whispered at their table.

“Leave it to me. I’ll just pretend to be sick.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Just be careful not to like...make it look too fake.”

Elle looked at Danny. She pushed the coffee away from her and coughed a little.

“Elle?”

“I’m fine I just--ack, ack!--suddenly feel a little--” She covered her mouth and kept coughing.

Danny’s eyes widened. She leaned back a little as Elle groaned, clutching her stomach. Her coughing got more and more dramatic until she was practically turning red.

Laura walked back to the table. “Hey, guys, so I have your brown--Elle? Are you okay?”

“Oh God, suddenly my stomach is just--ugh,” she finally slumped over in her chair, still moaning.

“...Elle, isn’t feeling well,” Danny said. “I think I’m going to help get her home.”

“Oh,” Laura frowned. “Feel better, Elle.”

“Thank--ack--you Laura,” Elle wheezed.

“Do you want me to wrap up--”

“Don’t even bother,” Danny interrupted, getting up and helping Elle to her feet. “Why don’t you split it with Carmilla?”

Laura looked back at the counter, where Carmilla was watching events unfold with a perplexed expression.

“I...guess…”

“Great cool see you Hollis!”

Danny dragged Elle out as she continued pretending to be on the verge of projectile vomiting. People were starting to look. Someone stared at them both, and Danny responded with a sheepish smile.

“Uh...don’t have what she’s having,” Danny advised, before pulling her straight out of the shop.

As soon as they were outside Elle straightened up, flipped her hair back into place, and smiled sweetly.

“And done.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“In a good way though, right? Hold on, I want to see if it worked--I think it did.”

Laura and Carmilla were standing at the counter together, sharing the brownie. But it didn’t look like they were doing anything else.

“Great,” Elle said. “Now can we try blowing something up?”

Danny put her arm around Elle. “Can we just go home now?”

“Depends which one you’re talking about.”

Danny leaned in, kissing Elle quickly. Elle leaned in after Danny when she pulled back.

“My place is closer,” Danny answered. “You want to see who can get there faster?”

Elle grinned. She pushed Danny as she ran past her, and Danny laughed before chasing after her.

The brownie didn’t work.

Kirsch and SJ tried the music thing, which also didn’t end up working, mostly because none of them could, no matter how hard they tried, find a genre of music Carmilla and Laura both liked. Although they did see Laura force Carmilla into a quick, goofy waltz behind the counter before Carmilla stopped, which they considered a win.

After months of work, everyone had come up with a plan. Everyone except--

“Seriously, blow something up.”

“Will you stop suggesting explosions?!” Perry exclaimed.

Everyone else shushed her. It was a library, after all.

“Well, nothing else we’re doing has worked,” Elle answered, pouting. “Laura doesn’t take this long to get a couple together. This calls for drastic measures.”

“I still think you just want to drench your ex girlfriend in coffee or something,” Elsie pointed out.

“And if you guys have any more ideas you’re free to try those instead.”

Everyone looked at each other. LaFontaine sighed.

“Alright, Sheridan, if you want to give it a shot feel free.”

Elle looked at everyone. She jumped out of her seat, grabbed the marker from LaFontaine, and started writing on the whiteboard.

“Okay, I call this Operation Coffee Machine Blow Up. LaFontaine, you’ve seemed onboard with the plan from the beginning and I appreciate it, so you get to sabotage the machine…”

Elle planned everything that particular time, so she stayed away from its actual execution. Still, she couldn’t stand not seeing it happen, so she stayed at a table near the front, away from the counter, keeping her head bowed.

Danny distracting Laura: Check.

Perry keeping Carmilla preoccupied: Check.

LaFontaine gleefully messing with the coffee machine: Check. All according to plan.

When Carmilla and Laura head back to the counter, Carmilla pulled Laura in by the apron, Laura brushed some cocoa powder on her shoulder, and for a moment all of the people for Operation Hollstein held their breath at the thought that maybe they wouldn’t need to blow anything up after all. Elle rolled her eyes when they broke apart.

Elle caught the eye of the others and they all shared a really? Look of annoyance. Elle caught Laura trying to give Danny a thumbs up, almost catching LaFontaine waving their arms.

Then all Hell broke loose.

“Carmilla! Laura’s going to blow us all up!”

Elle had to admit this about her ex girlfriend; she’d broken up with her because she didn’t seem to care about anything. She’d never seen Carmilla care more than when she jumped to Laura’s side, furiously pressing buttons and trying to stop the machine. When it didn’t work, Carmilla grabbed Laura and heroically saved her from the scalding hot steam as they both landed on the ground.

She couldn’t help herself; Elle jumped up, running to Danny’s side to try and see what was happening on the ground.

Carmilla and Laura were kissing, covered head to toe with lukewarm coffee. Elle had expected to feel a sense of elation, a sort of revenge joy in seeing her ex girlfriend drenched.

Instead she felt something different. The same happy feeling she’d expected but...not because Carmilla had to deal with a broken coffee machine.

She was happy for her.

Happy that Carmilla managed to get her own coffee shop AU. Happy that the girl she’d been helping make other people fall in love for months had finally realized she wanted to make Carmilla love her too.

She was so stunned at the revelation that she didn’t even say anything as everyone else started cheering when they got up. She said nothing as LaFontaine explained their plan and nothing as Danny talked about wanting to return the favor. Elle didn’t say anything as Carmilla pulled Laura in again and everyone started congratulating each other with high fives and friendly pats on the back.

“Hey, Elle!”

She was snapped out of it by Perry, shaking her hand. “I want to say that well...that turned out to be a good plan, after all. Sorry for dismissing it every time it came up.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carmilla was watching. Elle swallowed.

“Yeah, well, thank you. What can I say? Maybe I should find my own coffee shop to play Cupid in.”

Perry laughed, going back to talk to LaFontaine. Danny looked back to Elle, taking her hand.

“Hey, Cupid in training,” Danny said teasingly, kissing her on the cheek, “want to head out and celebrate?”

“Uh, I’ll meet you outside.”

Danny looked confused, but she agreed. Elle looked back at Carmilla, walking up to the counter.

“Carmilla?”

She turned away from Laura. “Elle. Should have guessed you’d have the world’s most extra plan.”

“Look, I just wanted to say...congratulations, okay?” She looked at Laura. “And, um, thank you. You guys deserve this. Really.”

Laura smiled. “Thanks, Elle. I was especially happy with your match.”

Elle nodded quickly before she turned and was about to go.

“Hey, Elle,” Carmilla called after her. Elle looked back.

“You deserve this too.”

Elle smiled.

“But also, fuck you for coming up with blowing up the coffee machine.”

Laura hit Carmilla lightly and scolded her for the language. Elle laughed. She gave Carmilla a joking salute and went back to find Danny.

“What was that?” Danny asked.

“Just basking in the glory of my own success,” Elle grabbed Danny’s hand. “You know when I become famous and start setting up millionaires with my patented ‘explosion’ technique, I want you to know you’ll always come first.”

Danny snorted. “You are always so extra.”

“Hey, be nice,” Elle answered, pouting. “If I think we’re starting to have problems, who knows what will happen to the washing machine next time you use it.��

“You are lucky you’re cute.”

“Yes. Yes I am. But I’m more lucky to be dating you.”

“It wasn’t luck, it was Laura Hollis,” Danny pointed out.

Elle shook her head fondly, sighing as she pulled Danny away.

#fanfic #lol this was kind of fun #ellanny

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maxmaggr · 4 years

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21 ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν Όσκαρ αλλα θα έπρεπε

Οι ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν Όσκαρ είναι σίγουρα κάτι υποκειμενικό... ή και όχι; Μπορεί να είναι προφανές ωστόσο αξίζει να ειπωθεί πάλι: μια ταινία υποψήφια για Όσκαρ δεν είναι απαραίτητα άξια ταινία αλλά και μια ταινία χωρίς υποψηφιότητα ή αγαλματίδιο δεν είναι μια ταινία που δεν αξίζει την προσοχή μας. Στην πραγματικότητα έχουν υπάρξει τόσες ταινίες μέσα στην ιστορική πορεία των Όσκαρ που παρόλο που ήταν άξιες, είχαν παραβλεφθεί από την Ακαδημία. Είναι εύκολο να υποθέσουμε ότι ορισμένες ταινίες δεν παίρνουν υποψηφιότητα, επειδή δεν είναι ό,τι συνήθως προτιμούν τα μέλη της Ακαδημίας, ωστόσο έχουν υπάρξει ορισμένες εκπλήξεις στο παρελθόν. Για παράδειγμα, σχεδόν κάθε νέα ταινία υπερήρωα κερδίζει μια υποψηφιότητα χάρη στις τεχνικές ή τις κατηγορίες μακιγιάζ, ενώ οι τυχαίες κινούμενες ταινίες σχεδίων αναγνωρίζονται πιθανότατα λόγω του χαμηλού αριθμού που προσφέρεται σε ένα συγκεκριμένο έτος. Συχνά, οι καλύτεροι νικητές των φωτογραφιών δεν ταιριάζουν με την πιο αγαπημένη ή δημοφιλή ταινία του έτους από τους οπαδούς, ή ακόμα και τους κριτικούς. Αν και πολλές από τις πιο εικονικές ταινίες στον αμερικανικό κινηματογράφο έχουν υποβληθεί για Όσκαρ καλύτερης εικόνας, ορισμένοι δεν κέρδισαν. Όμως, αγαπήθηκαν τόσο πολύ και κρατήθηκαν με τόσο μεγάλη εκτίμηση που μπορεί να υποθέσετε ότι κέρδισαν το χρυσό τους Όσκαρ. Άλλες φορές, οι ψήφοι της Ακαδημίας δεν έχουν νόημα. Ένας νικητής καλύτερης εικόνας, μπορεί να ήταν μια ταινία που δεν έχετε ακούσει ποτέ ή ήταν μια ταινία που τώρα θεωρείται τρομερή. Το μεγαλύτερο παράδειγμα αυτού του γεγονότος μπορεί να είναι το 2005, όταν το "Crash" απονεμήθηκε για Όσκαρ καλύτερης εικόνας αντί του "Brokeback Mountain". Από τα αριστουργήματα του Alred Hitcock προς τα εικονικά επιστημονικά φαντάσματα, η παρακάτω λίστα περιέχει 21 ταινίες που απέτυχαν να κερδίσουν Όσκαρ, όμως κέρδισαν μια θέση στη καρδιά μας και στην ιστορία του κινηματογράφου.

Πηγή εικόνας: toperiodiko.gr

Requiem for a Dream (2000)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Jared Leto, Jennifer Connelly, Ellen Burstyn Σκηνοθεσία: Daren Aronofsky Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBwzN4v1vA0 Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8,3/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει όσκαρ: Α’ Γυναικείου Ρόλου Την ταινία προτείνει: Νικολέτα Τσακουρίδου Το “Requiem for a Dream” είναι μια από τις ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν Όσκαρ, και δεν καταλάβαμε και ποτέ γιατί. Ο Daren Aronofsky μεγαλούργησε και εδώ, και την έκανε μια ταινία που θα σου μείνει για πάντα. Οι συνέπειες όλων εκείνων των πραγμάτων που αν “κατρακυλήσει” κάποιος και δεν ελέγξει, μπορούν να τον οδηγήσουν στην καταστροφή. Όλοι τους κυνηγούν το φημισμένο Αmerican Dream. Αλλά όπως πιστεύουν οι ίδιοι, θα πρέπει να “θυσιαστούν” για να το επιτύχουν. Και με το να θυσιαστούν, εννοούμε να πάρουν ουσίες για να καταφέρουν να καταξιωθούν. Στις ψυχολογικά βίαιες εικόνες του "Requiem for a Dream", ο Aronofsky, απέδωσε το βροντερό, κακόηχο τέλος του αμερικανικού ονείρου. Η ταινία έγινε κλασική αξία όλων των σινεφίλ και μια γροθιά στο στομάχι για την απελπισία, στην οποία φτάνει ο άνθρωπος. Η Ακαδημία αναγνώρισε μόνο την ερμηνεία της Ellen Burstyn, και την πρότεινε για το Όσκαρ Α’ Γυναικείου Ρόλου, το οποίο στερήθηκε από την Julia Roberts για την ταινία “Erin Brockovich”.

True Grit (2010)

Πρωταγωνιστές : Jeff Bridges, Matt Damon, Josh Brolin Σκηνοθεσία: Coen Brothers Trailer: https://youtu.be/CUiCu-zuAgM Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 7.6/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει Όσκαρ: Σκηνοθεσίας, Α' Ανδρικού ρόλου, Β' Γυναικείου Ρόλου. Την ταινία προτείνει: Σπύρος Καραγεώργης Πρόκειται για ένα μοντέρνο αριστουργηματικό western από τους αδελφούς Coen που βασίστηκε στο ομώνυμο βιβλίο του Charles Portis και είναι remake της ταινίας του 1969 με τον John Wayne. Είναι ένα φιλμ με αρκετή ψυχή και καρδιά, έχει δυνατές ερμηνείες από όλο το cast και μία ιστορία με βάθος που περιέχει κάποια πολύ όμορφα μηνύματα. Το True Grit προτάθηκε για 10 βραβεία Όσκαρ το 2010 αλλά δυστυχώς δεν κατάφερε να κερδίσει κάποιο παρόλο που το άξιζε.

Πηγή εικόνας: http://www.ifccenter.com

Fight Club (1999)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Edward Norton, Helena Bonham Carter, Brad Pitt Σκηνοθεσία: David Fincher Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qtRKdVHc-cE Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8,8/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει όσκαρ: Α’ Αντρικού Ρόλου Την ταινία προτείνει: Νικολέτα Τσακουρίδου Μετά και την τελευταία απονομή των Όσκαρ, μεγάλοι ήταν οι νικητές αλλά και οι χαμένοι. Ταινίες που ήταν άρτιες από όλες τις πλευρές και σε στυλ σκηνοθεσίας αλλά και φοβερές ερμηνείες. Στην ιστορία του κινηματογράφου, μία από τις ταινίες που δεν κέρδισε Όσκαρ, είναι το Fight Club. Σε σκηνοθεσία David Fincher, η ταινία έγινε το σήμα κατατεθέν της «αντισυμβατικής» γενιάς του ’90 και δεν υπήρχε εφηβικός ή φοιτητικός τοίχος που να μην έχει πάνω του την αφίσα της. Παρόλο που είχε τα δύο μεγάλα ονόματα του κινηματογράφου τότε, η Ακαδημία Κινηματογράφου ξεχώρισε την ταινία για τον ήχο μονάχα. Απέσπασε μόνο αυτή την υποψηφιότητα και έχασε από το “Matrix”.

Taxi Driver (1976)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Robert De Niro, Jodie Foster, Cybill Sepherd Σκηνοθεσία: Martin Scorsese Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=44gB58YS53A Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8,3/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει όσκαρ: Α’ Αντρικού και Α’ Γυναικείου Ρόλου Την ταινία προτείνει: Νικολέτα Τσακουρίδου Πως μπορεί να υπάρχει ταινία που να μην έχει πάρει Όσκαρ, ενώ παίζει ο Robert De Niro; Υπάρχει όμως και είναι και από τις σπουδαιότερες ταινίες κατακτώντας μάλιστα μια θέση στο φημισμένο National Film Registry (Εθνικό Αρχείο Ταινιών) των ΗΠΑ το 1994.Ο Robert De Niro ως ένας vigilante της Νέας Υόρκης αποπειράται να σώσει με βίαιο τρόπο μια 12χρονη πόρνη από τους προστάτες της. Η ταινία απέσπασε 4 υποψηφιότητες, Όσκαρ Καλύτερης ταινίας, και Όσκαρ Α’ Αντρικού και Γυναικείου Ρόλου για τον De Niro και την Foster αντίστοιχα. Δυστυχώς δεν πήρε κανένα από αυτά. Στο Φεστιβάλ Καννών ωστόσο αναγνωρίστηκε η αξία της και κέρδισε τον Χρυσό Φοίνικα καλύτερης ταινίας, σκηνοθεσίας, ερμηνείας για τον Robert De Niro, και μουσικής.

The Color Purple (1985)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Danny Glover, Whoopi Goldberg, Oprah Winfrey Σκηνοθεσία: Steven Spielberg Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzGrDgu08r8 Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 7,8/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει όσκαρ: Α’ Γυναικείου Ρόλου, Καλύτερης Ταινίας, Β’ Γυναικείου Ρόλου Την ταινία προτείνει: Νικολέτα Τσακουρίδου Μια από τις ταινίες που δεν πήρε Όσκαρ, ενώ είχε προταθεί για 11 υποψηφιότητες. Ναι, σωστά διαβάσατε. Ρεκόρ ατυχίας για τον Steven Spielberg, που δημιούργησε το “The Color Purple” γνωρίζοντας μεγάλη εισπρακτική επιτυχία. Η πορεία της ταινίας στα βραβεία ήταν ένα από τα γεγονότα εκείνα που κατέδειξαν την περιφρόνηση που έδειχνε η Ακαδημία Κινηματογράφου απέναντι στους Αφρο-Αμερικάνους ηθοποιούς και άνοιξαν τον δρόμο για το hashtag #OscarsSoWhite.

American History X / Μαθήματα Αμερικανικής ιστορίας (1998)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Edward Norton, Edward Furlong, Beverly D'Angelo Σκηνοθεσία: Tony Kaye Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfQYHqsiN5g Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8,5/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει όσκαρ: Α’ Ανδρικού Ρόλου Την ταινία προτείνει: Παναγιώτης Μέμο Το “Μαθήματα Αμερικάνικης ιστορίας” είναι μια από αυτές τις ταινίες που μόλις την δεις, κάτι μέσα σου αλλάζει. Η εξέλιξη των χαρακτήρων και η εναλλαγή συναισθημάτων που προσφέρει καθ’ όλη τη διάρκεια της η ταινία είναι συγκλονιστική. Το πως το μίσος και ο φυλετικός ρατσισμός λειτουργούν αυτοκαταστροφικά απεικονίζεται στη ταινία , με μεγάλο ρεαλισμό. Ο Ντέρεκ μόλις έχει αποφυλακιστεί υστέρα από τη δολοφονία δυο μαύρων , και καθώς επιστρέφει σπίτι του συνειδητοποιεί ότι ο μικρός του αδερφός Ντάνι βαδίζει στο δρόμο που ο ίδιος χάραξε. Συνειδητοποιημένος πλέον ο Ντέρεκ , προσπαθεί να βοηθήσει τον αδερφό του να «βγει» από τη φιλοσοφία του φυλετικού ρατσισμού και του μίσους και να κόψει επαφές με την οργάνωση των νεοναζί. Η ιστορία εκτυλίσσεται μέσα από την εναλλαγή σε παρόν και παρελθόν και είναι καθηλωτική. Η Ακαδημία πρότεινε για Όσκαρ αυτή την ταινία μόνο σε μια κατηγορία. Αυτή του Α Ανδρικού Ρολού με τον Edward Norton υποψήφιο. Χωρίς ωστόσο να κερδίζει καθώς εκείνη τη χρονιά η ακαδημία επέλεξε τον Roberto Benigni για την ταινία «Η ζωή είναι υπεροχή».

Citizen Kane (1941)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Orson Welles, Joseph Cotton, Dorothy Comingore Σκηνοθεσία: Orson Welles Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dxh3lwdOFw Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8,3 / 10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει όσκαρ: Καλύτερης ταινίας Την ταινία προτείνει: Μαρία Αντωνίου Όταν ο μεγαλοεκδότης Τσαρλς Φόστερ Κέιν πεθαίνει. Η τελευταία λέξη που βγαίνει από τα χείλη του είναι «Ροδανθός». Η είδηση του θανάτου του διαδίδεται σαν αστραπή ενώ ο δημοσιογράφος Τζέρι Τόμπσον προσπαθεί να αναλύσει το νόημα αυτής της λέξης. Το «Citizen Kane» θεωρείται μία από τις καλύτερες ταινίες όλων των εποχών, σύμφωνα με την λίστα του IMDB. Ο Όρσον Γουέλς είχε αναλάβει την σκηνοθεσία, την παραγωγή και τον πρωταγωνιστικό ρόλο της ταινίας. Η ταινία δεν έτυχε καλύτερης τύχης από το Hollywood αν και είχε διθυραμβικές κριτικές. Δυστυχώς όμως ανήκει στις ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν το Όσκαρ καλύτερης ταινίας. Ο Πολίτης Κέιν προτάθηκε για 9 Όσκαρ αλλά κέρδισε μόνο αυτό του πρωτότυπου σεναρίου. Το Όσκαρ καλύτερης ταινίας εκείνης της χρονιάς κέρδισε η «Κοιλάδα της Κατάρας» του Τζον Φορντ.

It’s a wonderful life (1946)

Πρωταγωνιστές: James Stewart, Donna Reed, Lionel Barrymore Σκηνοθεσία: Frank Capra Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8,6/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει το Όσκαρ: Καλύτερης Ταινίας και Α’ Ανδρικού ρόλου Την ταινία προτείνει: Μαρία Αντωνίου Η ταινία του Φραν Κάπρα μας μεταφέρει στο πνεύμα των Χριστουγέννων. Ο Τζορτζ Μπέιλι βοήθησε πολλούς από τους κατοίκους της πόλης όπου ζει. Ονειρευόταν να ζήσει μια διαφορετική ζωή αλλά κάποιες δυσκολίες στην οικογενειακή επιχείρηση τον πήγαν πίσω. Την ημέρα των Χριστουγέννων ανακαλύπτει πως υπάρχει έλλειμμα στα οικονομικά της εταιρείας και κινδυνεύει με φυλάκιση. Σκεπτόμενος την οικογένεια και την επιχείρηση του καταλήγει στο συμπέρασμα ότι θα είχε περισσότερο όφελος αν αυτοκτονούσε και αποπειράθηκε να το κάνει. Εκείνη την στιγμή εμφανίζεται ένας άγγελος και τον αποτρέπει να το κάνει. Με την βοήθεια του αγγέλου ο Τζορτζ παρατηρεί πόσο χρήσιμος είναι για τον τόπο του και πόσο θα έκανε στον ίδιο και στην οικογένειά του αυτή η αυτοκτονία. Η ταινία «It’s a wonderful life» προτάθηκε για 5 Όσκαρ αλλά δεν κέρδισε κανένα από αυτά. Η ταινία βρέθηκε στο στόχαστρο των αρχών καθώς χαρακτηρίστηκε κομμουνιστική. Θεωρείται από τις μεγαλύτερες αδικίες στην ιστορία των Όσκαρ διότι θα μπορούσε να κερδίσει άνετα τόσο το Όσκαρ καλύτερης ταινίας όσο και αυτό του Α’ Ανδρικού ρόλου για τον Τζέιμς Στιούαρτ. Εκείνη το βραβείο καλύτερης ταινίας απονεμήθηκε στην ταινία «Τα καλύτερα μας χρόνια» ενώ ο Στιούαρτ έχασε το Α’ ανδρικό από τον Φρέντρικ Μάρτς.

Psycho (1960)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Anthony Perkins, Janet Leigh, Vera Miles Σκηνοθεσία: Alfred Hitchcock Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8,5/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει το Όσκαρ: Καλύτερης σκηνοθεσίας Την ταινία προτείνει: Μαρία Αντωνίου Αν μιλάμε για τις μεγαλύτερες αδικίες των Όσκαρ τότε ο Alfred Hitchcock είναι μία από αυτές. Ο μετρ του σασπένς προτάθηκε 5 φορές για Όσκαρ στο σύνολο της καριέρας του και δεν κέρδισε καμία από αυτές. Παρόλα αυτά η ακαδημία αναγνώρισε την αδικία και του απένειμε ένα τιμητικό Όσκαρ για την προσφορά του στην 7η τέχνη. Μία νεαρή κοπέλα, η Μάριον, κλέβει 40000 δολάρια από το αφεντικό της και διαφεύγει στην Καλιφόρνια για να συναντήσει τον εραστή της. Στην διαδρομή, λόγω των κακών καιρικών συνθηκών και της πολύωρης οδήγησης, βρίσκει καταφύγιο σε ένα μοτέλ. Ιδιοκτήτης του είναι ο Νόρμαν Μπέιτς. Ο Νόρμαν είναι νέος άντρας ο οποίος καταδυναστεύει την περιουσία της μητέρας του. Το «Phycho» είναι από τις ταινίες που δεν κέρδισε Όσκαρ. Προτάθηκε για 4 Όσκαρ αλλά δεν κέρδισε κανένα από αυτά. Το Όσκαρ καλύτερης σκηνοθεσίας κέρδισε ο Billy Wilder για το «The apartment».

Αποκάλυψη, Τώρα! (1979)

Πρωταγωνιστες : Martin Sheen, Marlon Brando, Robert Duvall Σκηνοθεσία: Ford Coppola Trailer: https://youtu.be/9l-ViOOFH-s Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8.4/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει το Όσκαρ: Καλύτερης Ταινίας, Καλύτερης Σκηνοθεσίας, Καλύτερου Διασκευασμένου Σεναρίου, Πρώτου και Δευτέρου Ανδρικού Ρόλου. Την ταινία προτείνει: Στέφανος Κυριαζίδης. Το "Αποκάλυψη, Τώρα!" μας τοποθετεί στην καρδιά του πολέμου στο Βιετνάμ. Ο βετεράνος Benjamin Willard παίρνει εντολή να εξοντώσει τον θρυλικό συνταγματάρχη Walter Kurtz, ο οποίος βυθίστηκε στην απόλυτη παράνοια, θεωρώντας πώς είναι ήμι-Θεος στα βάθη της Καμπότζης. Ένα οπτικό-ακουστικό αριστούργημα με μοναδικές ερμηνείες και μηνύματα για τον τρόμο του πολέμου.

The Big Lebowski (1998)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Jeff Bridges, John Goodman, Julliane Moore Σκηνοθεσία: Coen Brothers Trailer: https://youtu.be/cd-go0oBF4Y Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8.1/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει Όσκαρ: Α' Ανδρικού Ρόλου, Σεναρίου Την ταινία προτείνει: Σπύρος Καραγεώργης Άλλο ένα αριστούργημα των αδελφών Coen που αδικήθηκε κατά πολύ τον καιρό που κυκλοφόρησε από κοινό, κριτικούς και Ακαδημία εξίσου. Με τα χρόνια όμως ο κόσμος άρχισε σιγά σιγά να το καταλαβαίνει και τελικά κατάφερε να αποκτήσει ένα φανατικό κοινό. Θεωρώ πως είναι έγκλημα που ο Jeff Bridges δεν κέρδισε Όσκαρ και ούτε καν προτάθηκε για έναν ρόλο που ξεκάθαρα ήταν γεννημένος να παίξει. Επίσης το σενάριο άξιζε σίγουρα να κερδίσει Όσκαρ μιας και περιέχει άφθονες επικές ατάκες που έχουν γίνει μέρος της σύγχρονης ποπ κουλτούρας.

Cast Away / Ο Ναυαγός (2000)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Tom Hanks, Helen Hunt Σκηνοθεσία: Robert Zemeckis Trailer: https://youtu.be/qGuOZPwLayY Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 7.8/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει Όσκαρ: Α' Ανδρικού Ρόλου Την ταινία προτείνει: Σπύρος Καραγεώργης Το Cast Away είναι η δεύτερη συνεργασία του Robert Zemeckis με τον Tom Hanks μετά το πολύ επιτυχημένο Forrest Gump. Έχει γίνει πλέον μια κλασική ταινία και ο κόσμος ακόμη νομίζει πως ο Tom Hanks πήρε Όσκαρ για το ρόλο αυτό πράγμα δυστυχώς δεν ισχύει. Αυτό είναι σίγουρα άλλο ένα από τα εγκλήματα των Όσκαρ, αφού ο ηθοποιός στήριξε μόνος του όλο το φιλμ και μεταμορφώθηκε ριζικά για αυτό. Παρόλα αυτά, το Όσκαρ τότε κέρδισε ο Russell Crowe για το Gladiator που μάλλον ήταν η πιο δημοφιλής επιλογή.

The Master (2012)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Joaquin Phoenix, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Addams Σκηνοθεσία: Paul Thomas Anderson Trailer: https://youtu.be/-EGSWpBDbho Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 7.2/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει Όσκαρ: Καλύτερης Ταινίας Την ταινία προτείνει: Σπύρος Καραγεώργης Είναι γνωστό πως ο Paul Thomas Anderson συνήθως παράγει κινηματογραφικά αριστουργήματα και το Master είναι σίγουρα ένα από αυτά αν όχι η καλύτερη ταινία του. Η ταινία στα Όσκαρ προτάθηκε μόνο σε τρεις κατηγορίες υποκριτικής αλλά δεν προτάθηκε πότε για Καλύτερη Ταινία παρόλο που άξιζε και να προταθεί αλλά και να κερδίσει. Το 2012 είδαμε αναμφίβολα πολλά αριστουργήματα αλλά το Master ήταν υπεράνω από όλα και ειδικά από το Argo που κέρδισε το Όσκαρ Καλύτερης Ταινίας εκείνη την χρονιά, μόνο και μόνο για να συμβολίσει την συνεργασία κυβέρνησης και κινηματογραφικής βιομηχανίας.

Capernaum (2018)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Zain Al Rafeea, Yordanos Shiferaw, Boluwatife Treasure Bankole Σκηνοθεσία: Nadine Labaki Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-9Le4aJRSnw Βαθμολογία στo IMDB: 8.4/10 Η ταινία υπήρξε η πρόταση του Λιβάνου για το Όσκαρ Καλύτερης Ξενόγλωσσης Ταινίας. Θα μπορούσε λοιπόν, να βραβευτεί άνετα στη συγκεκριμένη κατηγορία. Την ταινία προτείνει: Παπατσάνης Αθανάσιος Το φιλμ «Capernaum» συγκαταλέγεται στη λίστα με τις ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν Όσκαρ, αν και οι κριτικές που έλαβε ήταν εξαιρετικές. Είναι μια ταινία που έφτασε στην πηγή, αλλά δεν ήπιε νερό, που λέμε. Ο 12χρονος Ζάιν είναι ένα προσφυγόπουλο από τη Συρία. Μια μέρα παρουσιάζεται σε μια αίθουσα δικαστηρίου με σκοπό να μηνύσει τους γονείς του ‘’που τον έφεραν στον κόσμο’’. Κάνοντας την επανάσταση του, κατηγορεί τους γονείς του για την αδυναμία τους να προσφέρουν στα παιδιά τους τη φροντίδα και τη προστασία που δικαιούνται. Έτσι, ξεκινά ένα δύσκολο ταξίδι με σκοπό να βρει τη δική του ταυτότητα. Εκείνη τη χρονιά, η Μεξικάνικη παραγωγή «Roma» κατάφερε να κερδίσει το πολυπόθητο βραβείο στην κατηγορία.

A Single Man (2010)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Matthew Goode Σκηνοθεσία: Tom Ford Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ell2a6o_6lY Βαθμολογία στo IMDB: 7.6/10 Το δραματικό- ρομαντικό φιλμ «Α Single Man» είναι μια από τις ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν Όσκαρ, παρ’ όλο την εξαιρετική ερμηνεία του Colin Firth. Mια ταινία που είχε τα φόντα να διακριθεί στην κατηγορία «Καλύτερος Α’ Αντρικός Ρόλος». Το «Ένας Άντρας Μόνος» βασίζεται στο ομότιτλο μυθιστόρημα του Christopher Isherwood (1964). Βρισκόμαστε στο Λος Άντζελες του 1962. Ο George είναι ένας καθηγητής κολεγίου που χάνει τον σύντροφο του σε ένα δυστύχημα. Καταρρακωμένος πλέον μετά από αυτό το τραγικό γεγονός, προσπαθεί να βρει το νόημα στη ζωή του. Συνοδοιπόρος σε αυτή του την προσπάθεια είναι η στενή του φίλη Charlie (Julianne Moore).

The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Leonardo DiCaprio, Jonah Hill, Margot Robbie Σκηνοθεσία: Martin Scorsese Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmgrDmR-yy8 Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8.2/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει όσκαρ: Α΄ Ανδρικού ρόλου Την ταινία προτείνει: Θανάσης Τσιώλης Αντικειμενικά πάντα μιλώντας, σου κάνει τεράστια έκπληξη που βλέπεις αυτή τη ταινία στο αφιέρωμα με τις ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν όσκαρ. Και να σου πω την αλήθεια, όταν δειλά δειλά είπε ότι θα συμμετάσχω, βεβαιώθηκα ουκ ολίγες φορές αν έχει κερδίσει Όσκαρ προτού βάλω αυτό το κόσμημα σε αυτή τη λίστα. Το Wolf of Wall Street είναι η ιστορία του Τζόρνταν Μπέλφορτ, άλλωστε η ταινία είναι βασισμένη στα απομνημονεύματά του. Στην πέμπτη του συνεργασία με τον Scorsese ο Dicaprio υποδύεται έναν χρηματιστή που διευθύνει την (παράνομη; ) επιχείρηση Στράκον Όκμοντ και δραστηριοποιείται στην απάτη ασφαλειών στην Wall Street. Χρηματιστές, ναρκωτικά, γυναίκες, λιμουζίνες, λεφτά και όποια τρελή κατάσταση μπορείς να φανταστείς είναι στη ταινία. Μεταξύ μας, θα ήθελες για λίγο να ζήσεις μέσα της. Για λίγο, μπορείς να σε φανταστείς ως Τζόρνταν Μπελφορτ, 26 χρονών με 49 εκ. τζίρο. Εκείνη τη χρονιά ο απίστευτος Λεονάρντο έχασε το βραβείο Α΄ Ανδρικού από τον εξίσου απίστευτο Κρίστιαν Μπέιλ του American Hustle. Η ταινία έχασε τις υπόλοιπες 4 υποψηφιότητες και σήμερα την βλέπεις εδώ, στο αφιέρωμα με τις ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν όσκαρ!

Mary and Max (2009)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Toni Collette, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Eric Bana Σκηνοθεσία: Adam Elliot Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGATShQbydk Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8,1/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει το Όσκαρ: Καλύτερης ταινίας κινουμένων σχεδίων Την ταινία προτείνει: Μαρία Αντωνίου Η εκπληκτική ταινία του Adam Elliot θα μπορούσε να συμπεριληφθεί στις ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν Όσκαρ αλλά ούτε και προτάθηκαν. Στην ταινία βλέπουμε την ιστορία βλέπουμε την ιστορία δύο φίλων δια αλληλογραφίας, της 8χρονης Μαίρης και του 44χρονου Μαξ. Η Μαίρη είναι ένα μοναχικό κοριτσάκι όπου ζει στα προάστια της Μελβούρνης. Ο Μαξ είναι ένας 44χρονος άνδρας με σύνδρομο Άσπενγκερ που ζει στην Νέα Υόρκη. Παρακολουθώντας τις ζωές τους, σε μια περίοδο 20 ετών, βλέπουμε το δέσιμο αυτών των δύο ανθρώπων, το νοιάξιμο που δείχνουν ο ένας στον άλλο και το πόσο ξεχωριστοί είναι στην κοινωνία όπου ζουν. Για την ιστορία το Όσκαρ καλύτερης ταινίας κινουμένων σχεδίων 2009 είχε κερδίσει το Up.

Leon: The Professional (1994)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Jean Reno, Gary Oldman, Natalie Portman Σκηνοθεσία: Luc Besson Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FAOzXGibKJc Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8.5/10 Θα μπορούσε να πάρει άνετα Όσκαρ: Β’ Ανδρικού Ρόλου. Την ταινία προτείνει: Φωτεινή Δαϊλά. Ένας πληρωμένος δολοφόνος παίρνει υπό την προστασία του ένα ορφανό 12χρονο κορίτσι, οι γονείς και τα αδέρφια του οποίου σκοτώθηκαν από διεφθαρμένους αστυνομικούς της δίωξης ναρκωτικών. Ένα cult διαμαντάκι, που προφανώς ανήκει στις ταινίες που δεν πήραν Όσκαρ, από τον Luc Besson με έναν πολύ καλό Jean Reno και τη Natalie Portman να παίζει εκπληκτικά (σ.σ.: τότε ήταν μόλις 12 χρονών). Η ταινία βέβαια ξεχωρίζει χάρη στη παρανοϊκά φα-ντα-στι-κή (ή φανταστικά πα-ρα-νοϊ-κή) ερμηνεία του Gary Oldman, αυτού του ανθρώπου-χαμαιλέοντα. Σχεδόν έγκλημα που δεν είχε προταθεί για Όσκαρ τότε (το οποίο το έχω πει πολλές φορές για αυτόν τον τεράστιο ηθοποιό).

Bringing Up Baby (1938)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, Barry Fitzgerald Σκηνοθεσία: Howard Hawks Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F25nzu6hh0Q Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 7.9/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει όσκαρ: Πρωτότυπου Σεναρίου Την ταινία προτείνει: Αντώνιος Ευθυμίου Το μωρό του τίτλου δεν είναι άλλο από μια... λεοπάρδαλη, το κατοικίδιο μιας τρελής εκκεντρικής κληρονόμου, που την υποδύεται η σπουδαία Katharine Hepburn. Δίπλα της ο ζεν πρεμιέ της εποχής Cary Grant, στοn ρόλο του παλαιοντολόγου. Η πλέον κλασική screwball κωμωδία υπό τη σκηνοθετική μπαγκέτα του Howard Hawks και με δύο λαμπρούς ηθοποιούς, που με τους αιχμηρούς τους διαλόγους σατιρίζουν την μάχη των φύλων και των τάξεων.

A clockwork orange / Το κουρδιστό πορτοκάλι (1971)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Μάλκολμ Μακ Ντάουελ, Πάτρικ Μαγκί, Άντριεν Κόρι Σκηνοθεσία: Στάνλεϊ Κιούμπρικ Trailer: https://youtu.be/SPRzm8ibDQ8 Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 8,3/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει όσκαρ: Καλύτερης ταινίας Την ταινία προτείνει: Χριστίνα Λιόντη Στις ταινίες που δεν πήραν όσκαρ ανήκει και το κουρδιστό πορτοκάλι. Το έργο βασίστηκε στο ομώνυμο μυθιστόρημα του Άντονυ Μπέρτζες. Πρόκειται για μια παρέα νέων που τελούν αξιόποινες πράξεις μέσα από τις οποίες αντλούν ευχαρίστηση. Οι πράξεις τους περιλαμβάνουν βανδαλισμούς μέχρι και βιασμούς. Έπειτα από ένα γεγονός τα πράγματα όπως είναι φυσικό αλλάζουν και ο βασικός πρωταγωνιστής κλείνεται στην φυλακή και ακολουθεί ένα πρότυπο σωφρονιστικό σύστημα στηριζόμενο σε ένα παβλοφικό πείραμα. Το σωφρονιστικό αυτό σύστημα είναι ιδέα της κυβέρνησης. Τέλος,το Όσκαρ καλύτερης ταινίας εκείνη την χρονιά (1971) πήρε η ταινία « Ο άνθρωπος από την Γαλλία» του Φίλιπ Ντ’ Άντονι.

The Godfather (1972)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan Σκηνοθεσία: Francis Ford Coppola Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sY1S34973zA Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 9.2/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει όσκαρ: Καλύτερης Σκηνοθεσίας Την ταινία προτείνει: Νίκος Κουνάδης Μία θρυλική και μια από τις καλύτερες ταινίες όλων των εποχών, ο Νονός, αφηγείται την αλλαγή των δεδομένων και των εποχών στην εγκληματική φαμίλια του Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando), ο οποίος μεγαλώνει και αφήνει τη θέση του στον μικρότερο γιο του, Michael (Al Pacino). Στις ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν Όσκαρ που άξιζαν ανήκει, ΝΑΙ, και ο Νονός. Παρότι κέρδισε τα Όσκαρ Καλύτερης Ταινίας, Α' Ανδρικού Ρόλου και Διασκευασμένου Σεναρίου, η σκηνοθεσία του Francis Ford Coppola δεν ανταμείφθηκε για τη πρώτη ταινία της τριλογίας, καθότι το χρυσό αγαλματίδιο κατέληξε στα χέρια του Bob Fosse για το Cabaret. Μετά από δύο χρόνια, ο Coppola κέρδισε στην ίδια κατηγορία το Όσκαρ για τον Νονό 2. Read the full article

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maxmaggreece · 4 years

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21 ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν Όσκαρ αλλα θα έπρεπε

Οι ταινίες που δεν κέρδισαν Όσκαρ είναι σίγουρα κάτι υποκειμενικό... ή και όχι; Μπορεί να είναι προφανές ωστόσο αξίζει να ειπωθεί πάλι: μια ταινία υποψήφια για Όσκαρ δεν είναι απαραίτητα άξια ταινία ��λλά και μια ταινία χωρίς υποψηφιότητα ή αγαλματίδιο δεν είναι μια ταινία που δεν αξίζει την προσοχή μας. Στην πραγματικότητα έχουν υπάρξει τόσες ταινίες μέσα στην ιστορική πορεία των Όσκαρ που παρόλο που ήταν άξιες, είχαν παραβλεφθεί από την Ακαδημία. Είναι εύκολο να υποθέσουμε ότι ορισμένες ταινίες δεν παίρνουν υποψηφιότητα, επειδή δεν είναι ό,τι συνήθως προτιμούν τα μέλη της Ακαδημίας, ωστόσο έχουν υπάρξει ορισμένες εκπλήξεις στο παρελθόν. Για παράδειγμα, σχεδόν κάθε νέα ταινία υπερήρωα κερδίζει μια υποψηφιότητα χάρη στις τεχνικές ή τις κατηγορίες μακιγιάζ, ενώ οι τυχαίες κινούμενες ταινίες σχεδίων αναγνωρίζονται πιθανότατα λόγω του χαμηλού αριθμού που προσφέρεται σε ένα συγκεκριμένο έτος. Συχνά, οι καλύτεροι νικητές των φωτογραφιών δεν ταιριάζουν με την πιο αγαπημένη ή δημοφιλή ταινία του έτους από τους οπαδούς, ή ακόμα και τους κριτικούς. Αν και πολλές από τις πιο εικονικές ταινίες στον αμερικανικό κινηματογράφο έχουν υποβληθεί για Όσκαρ καλύτερης εικόνας, ορισμένοι δεν κέρδισαν. Όμως, αγαπήθηκαν τόσο πολύ και κρατήθηκαν με τόσο μεγάλη εκτίμηση που μπορεί να υποθέσετε ότι κέρδισαν το χρυσό τους Όσκαρ. Άλλες φορές, οι ψήφοι της Ακαδημίας δεν έχουν νόημα. Ένας νικητής καλύτερης εικόνας, μπορεί να ήταν μια ταινία που δεν έχετε ακούσει ποτέ ή ήταν μια ταινία που τώρα θεωρείται τρομερή. Το μεγαλύτερο παράδειγμα αυτού του γεγονότος μπορεί να είναι το 2005, όταν το "Crash" απονεμήθηκε για Όσκαρ καλύτερης εικόνας αντί του "Brokeback Mountain". Από τα αριστουργήματα του Alred Hitcock προς τα εικονικά επιστημονικά φαντάσματα, η παρακάτω λίστα περιέχει 21 ταινίες που απέτυχαν να κερδίσουν Όσκαρ, όμως κέρδισαν μια θέση στη καρδιά μας και στην ιστορία του κινηματογράφου.

Πηγή εικόνας: toperiodiko.gr

Requiem for a Dream (2000)

True Grit (2010)

Πηγή εικόνας: http://www.ifccenter.com

Fight Club (1999)

Taxi Driver (1976)

The Color Purple (1985)

American History X / Μαθήματα Αμερικανικής ιστορίας (1998)

Citizen Kane (1941)

It’s a wonderful life (1946)

Psycho (1960)

Αποκάλυψη, Τώρα! (1979)

The Big Lebowski (1998)

Cast Away / Ο Ναυαγός (2000)

The Master (2012)

Πρωταγωνιστές: Joaquin Phoenix, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Addams Σκηνοθεσία: Paul Thomas Anderson Trailer: https://youtu.be/-EGSWpBDbho Βαθμολογία στο IMDB: 7.2/10 Θα μπορούσε άνετα να πάρει Όσκαρ: Καλύτερης Ταινίας Την ταινία προτείνει: Σπύρος Καραγεώργης Είν��ι γνωστό πως ο Paul Thomas Anderson συνήθως παράγει κινηματογραφικά αριστουργήματα και το Master είναι σίγουρα ένα από αυτά αν όχι η καλύτερη ταινία του. Η ταινία στα Όσκαρ προτάθηκε μόνο σε τρεις κατηγορίες υποκριτικής αλλά δεν προτάθηκε πότε για Καλύτερη Ταινία παρόλο που άξιζε και να προταθεί αλλά και να κερδίσει. Το 2012 είδαμε αναμφίβολα πολλά αριστουργήματα αλλά το Master ήταν υπεράνω από όλα και ειδικά από το Argo που κέρδισε το Όσκαρ Καλύτερης Ταινίας εκείνη την χρονιά, μόνο και μόνο για να συμβολίσει την συνεργασία κυβέρνησης και κινηματογραφικής βιομηχανίας.

Capernaum (2018)

A Single Man (2010)

The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)

Mary and Max (2009)

Leon: The Professional (1994)

Bringing Up Baby (1938)

A clockwork orange / Το κουρδιστό πορτοκάλι (1971)

The Godfather (1972)

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ticket4futball · 4 years

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Possible 23 man squad of England for Euro Cup 2020

One more month, one month closer to the European Championship this summer and another month of Gareth Southgate who will decide who will be with him in his quest to end the 54-year wait for England for a major international trophy.

England will face the Czech Republic, Croatia, and a playoff winner, who could be Scotland, into Group D at Euro 2020, which is a favorable result for one of the tournament hosts ‘next summer. Sports enthusiasts from around the world can purchase the England Euro Cup Tickets online to enjoy its stunning performances.

The misery of the Three Lions - which Southgate knows pretty well after his Euro 96 foul against Germany - continues to roar, but this time around, there are a lot of young talents who are suggesting a change of fortune at the horizon.

The top four teams in the third position from the six groups will also enter the last-16.

The dates and locations of the England group stage matches are Match.1: England vs Croatia

Time: 15:00

Date: Sunday, June 14, 2020

Stadium: Wembley Stadium Match.2: England vs Play-off winner C

Time: 20:00

Date: Friday, June 19, 2020

Stadium: Wembley Stadium

Match.3: Czech Republic vs England

Time: 20:00

Date: Tuesday, June 23, 2020

Stadium: Wembley Stadium

England possible team of 23 men?

1. Raheem Sterling

It was not a big end of the month for Raheem Sterling, after Manchester City's expulsion from the Champions League for the next two years.

But that minor problem aside, he remains the guy of choice for England with Kane seated on the sidelines and must be wrapped in fluffy cotton.

2. Trent Alexander-Arnold

Trent Alexander-Arnold is widely regarded as the best back-to-back in the world, mainly because of his sensational crossing ability and his raiding up and down to the right. And this evaluation, according to 90 minutes, is absolutely perfect. What a baller.

3. Jordan Henderson

Winning trophies and hoisting them above his head is a feeling that Henderson has become so familiar in Liverpool. And that's something he may have to prepare for, with the severity of Kane's injury still in the air.

4. Jadon Sancho

There comes a point in some players' careers when every club in the world would like to sign you up. Right now, Jadon Sancho is that player. Sorry, Borussia Dortmund.

5. Joe Gomez

Joe Gomez played last 11 Liverpool's matches in Premier League. At the time, Liverpool won all 11 games, kept 10 clean sheets and had a 25-point lead at the top of the table.

6. Harry Kane

It was also a quiet month for Kane, with a recovery on the agenda. The only thing that happened to notice? His Heung-min is now a better player than him for the Spurs. Eek.

7. Marcus Rashford

Crashed, recovering and twiddling his thumbs, it was probably a bit of a boring month for Rashford. However, he is a heavyweight player on this side of England and nothing will change that anytime soon.

8. Harry Maguire

The good old slab head scored against Chelsea in Manchester United's recent 2-0 victory. It's good. The good old slab head kicked Michy Batshuayi in the nuts during the same match. It's bad. Swings and roundabouts, huh?

9. Ben Chilwell

It was another difficult month for Leicester, but not bad for Chilwell - who scored in the recent draw with Chelsea.

So, with that in mind, he's still the reigning, defending and undisputed left-back (thanks to Paul Heyman for that) on this side of England.

10. James Maddison

All we've heard over the past month is which would work best for Manchester United; James Maddison or Jack Grealish?

But, in reality, we should really ask, can Gareth Southgate find a way to accommodate the two on his English side? Probably not, but he could try.

11. Jordan Pickford

The only thing you need at a big international tournament is the stability between the sticks.

Unfortunately, in Jordan, Pickford, England has the opposite at the moment - with more errors leading to a rather strange explosion in which the Everton cap tried its increasing criticism.

Oddly enough, I think I could have found the solution: stop making mistakes, Jordan!

12. Harry Winks

The Spurs win the Premier League games again, which proves that José Mourinho still has it after all.

One of the key ingredients for renewal in North London has been the form of Harry Winks in the midfield. Dynamic, graceful, industrious and beautiful - four simple adjectives that Mourinho has certainly used in press conferences to describe it.

13. Tammy Abraham

Goals aren't so regular for Tammy recently, who remembers having a brother named Timmy, but there is nothing to suggest that a place won't be guaranteed.

So let's focus on something else, remembering that his first name is actually Kevin.

14. Jack Grealish

If Jack Grealish is not in the England team for this European championship, it will be a crime against football.

No, stop thinking about the famous Daniel Radcliffe card in this alternative game, just focus on what Grealish does well for Villa - and that's a lot, a lot.

15. Kieran Trippier

Trips haven't really played out since England's last options update, with groin tension that left them out of the procedures. Yet at least he did nothing wrong at the time.

16. Danny Ings

Southampton is higher and lower than my childhood yo-yo, but they have one constant thing for them - the goals scored by Danny Ings.

DIngs, as we will now lovingly call him, has 15 Premier League goals this season and recently whipped a pearl against Burnley's former employers. But Gareth, for Christ's sake, doesn't put it on the front post when defending corners.

17. Nick Pope

In our previous edition of this series, in case we haven't already mentioned it, we recommend watching the Netflix biopic The Two Popes for more information on Burnley's keeper and his identical twin brother. This point is still valid.

18. Declan Rice

Poor old Dec really hasn't had a happy time recently, with West Ham in the absolutely dreadful form under the irresistible David Moyes.

It doesn't bode well for his credentials in England, but there's no question he's up to it - probably needs Ant by his side, remember ...

19. Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain

The end of January / beginning of February was not particularly inspiring for Oxlade-Chamberlain on a personal level, but he still has a time whale on the wave of the Liverpool juggernaut.

And who doesn't like to have a winner's mentality in the locker room, huh?

20. John Stones

Lord knows what sometimes goes on in John Stones' mind, but these are certainly not thoughts you want your central defenders to have.

Still, Stones holds on to his place for his dear life - largely because there aren't many other quality options available for poor Gareth.

21. Dean Henderson

The goalkeeper's third place (underestimated word) in the England team has been talking about the city in, uh, goalkeeper circles for quite some time now - and it now looks like a race that Dean Henderson will no doubt win.

Indeed, Hendo is damn good and his only rival for the spot - Tom Heaton - is almost certainly done for the season by injury.

22. Tyrone Mings

Previously, on the 90-minute Who's on the Plane series, we had chosen only three central defenders. Looking back, it was probably a mistake.

To compensate for this, we selected Mings - a prolific tackler this season - to fill the void, just ahead of Fikayo Tomori, who usefully lost his place at Chelsea at the right time.

23. Danny Rose

"I have been given the chance to play week after week. I want to play football again - with the euros in the summer, I want to put myself in the window."

And that's exactly what Danny Rose is doing in Newcastle - first, getting out of the bench in a 0-0 draw against Norwich, before starting pumping 4-0 at Arsenal.

Then Rose had a ruck with Toon fans on the train to Tyneside - what other evidence do you need to suggest that it MUST be included?

On Standby

The three England goalkeepers for this European Championship seem to be dead certainties, but Aaron Ramsdale will always keep the hope of getting into Gareth's thoughts.

Chris Smalling and Fikayo Tomori meanwhile, still hope to make their way into the central defensive configuration, while Kyle Walker, Reece James, Aaron Wan-Bissaka and Brandon Williams are hoping for additional nods.

Mason Mount may feel aggrieved at being knocked down in the midfield, but he is in good company - Dele Alli and Callum Hudson-Odoi are always outside to watch and have to do more to get in.

Upstairs, the fit Dominic Calvert-Lewin is an outside bet, while Callum Wilson and Mason Greenwood are also waiting behind the scenes, if an injury-ravaged the Three Lions.

Euro 2020 fans can get Euro Cup Tickets through our trusted online ticketing marketplace. Ticket4football.com is the most reliable source to book Euro 2020 Tickets.

#EnglandEuroCupTickets #EnglandvsCroatiaTickets #CroatiaEuroCupTickets #EuroCupTickets #Euro2020Tickets

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spockvarietyhour · 3 years

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The Cotton Club (1984)

#The Cotton Club #Gregory Hines #Laurence Fishburne #The Cotton Club (1984)#GIF #my gifs #thecottonclubedit #Danny watches The Cotton Club

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nashvillesingersblog · 6 years

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Ken Hatton shares his insight about performing with the Bluegrass Student Union, the Louisville Thoroughbreds, his experience as a director, solo performer, and arranger, and his very candid opinions about the evolution of the music industry and the Barbershop Harmony Society.

Top photo: Ken Hatton

Bottom photo: Bluegrass Student Union 1978 International Quartet Champion of the SPEBSQSA (DBA Barbershop Harmony Society) (L to R) Ken Hatton, Allen Hatton, Dan Burgess, Rick Staab

Todd Wilson had a chance to interview Ken Hatton for our email newsletter. Todd is one of our founders and serves the Nashville Singers as Executive Director and Artistic Director.

You can subscribe to our newsletter by texting the word SINGERS to 42828

DISCLAIMER: Some of our readers may find Ken’s responses to a few of Todd’s questions a bit edgy. Due to the length of this interview, only a small portion was published in the Nashville Singers newsletter. Hatton’s views do not necessarily reflect the views of the Nashville Singers organization.

TW: When did you know you wanted to be a singer?

KH: It’s impossible to remember not being a singer. Granddaddy and Dad were both “song-leaders” in the Church of Christ (“Minister of Music” was considered too “uppity”), and Dad joined the Louisville #1 Chapter of SPEBSQSA, Inc. as a tenor with his high school gospel quartet, in 1951. Mom was a fair pianist and could hold a tune pretty well too. Brother Allen was born in 1954, and I came along in 1955.

The Church of Christ held that instrumental accompaniment was a sin when making a “joyful noise,” so all the worshippers sang in 4-part harmony, you know, just like that original quartet, “Matthew-Mark-Luke-and-John.” It was all we knew as toddlers, so I can’t really recall when I learned to sing harmony. It just always was. Dad taught us to use our “musical ear” to find the harmony, using the shape-notes in the hymnal. His advice was, “When the note moves up, sing higher, and when the note moves down, sing lower, until it sounds good with the melody-note.” That was how we learned to woodshed; it was a spiritual thing.

I do remember at the age of five, when I learned my first popular song. Allen was in the first grade, and I would wait for his school bus every day on the front steps. I really missed my playmate! Each afternoon, he would teach me all the things he had learned that day in school. On one of those afternoons, he sang me a song that some of his fellow first graders had heard on the radio. Within a few minutes, we were singing it in unison, and with some occasional improvised harmony. “When I was a little bitty baby, my mama would rock me in my cradle, in them ol’ cotton fields back home.” I’m not sure that’s when I knew I wanted to be a singer, but that’s when I realized that I was one.

TW: What can you tell us about growing up in the Hatton family?

KH: We were encouraged to participate in music-programs in school by our parents, and we enjoyed those activities. Perhaps talent at a given discipline affects one’s motivation (For some reason, I did not really dig long division or algebra). Allen learned to play the trumpet, and both of us took piano-lessons as youngsters. Later, our younger sisters displayed similar talents for singing, and the oldest of the three, Jo Anne, played piano. Dad was one of the original Thoroughbreds, when the chorus was formed out of the old Louisville Chapter, and Mom sang with the Kentuckiana Chapter of Sweet Adelines, Inc. (later, Sweet Adelines International). Both parents dabbled in quartet-singing from time to time, and their ensembles always sounded musical, but never seemed to stay together long enough to earn rank in competition.

Dad took Allen and me to an occasional chorus show, where we would be seated in the audience and admonished not to move. Then, we would watch the chorus rehearse for their performance, and would enjoy the show. I can recall getting an unexplainable lump in my throat whenever that chorus of men would sing with reckless abandon. The highlights of those shows were the several chapter-quartets, including the Derbytowners and (later) the Citations, both of whom were really good competing quartets. We didn’t realize that the goose-bumps and throat-lumps were being caused by the ringing of chords. The big thrill for us, as kids, was to experience the Club House Four. They were a pretty good singing District Champ quartet, but those guys really worked at entertaining. Their jokes and routines were not as “edgy” as the Brian Lynches of the world might prefer, but old folks and kids alike just couldn’t stop laughing whenever the “Club House” was on stage.

The Thoroughbreds’ Musical Director was a guy named Bill Benner, who had moved to Louisville for work, after having directed the Lake Washington Skippers to a second place finish in international competition in 1957. Over a four year period, he took the brand new Thoroughbred Chorus to 8th, 6th, 2nd and 1st place finishes, winning their first chorus championship in 1962. Soon after that competition, Bill resigned as director, though he still conducted the Sweet Ads for a while. It seems he had been so focused on barbershop that he had ignored his wife and his job, and they both sort of fired him. He needed to get paid for directing the chorus, and the 1962 T-breds didn’t like that very much. So, our family took him, in, and Dad provided him with a job at his real estate company.

The saddest part was that Bill was being considered for the Society’s Music Services Director position. The Thoroughbreds’ 42 singers had finished second in 1961 to the 160 voice Chorus of the Chesapeake, under the direction of Bob Johnson. It was revealed later that year that a certain judge was a member of the winning chorus, and he had over-scored the winners and underscored the ‘Breds. The judge was kicked out of the judging program, and the Thoroughbreds received a secret apology, which was delivered in person by the new Music Services Director – Bob Johnson! It probably was a good thing, as Bill’s tunnel vision personality might not have been a good match for that position.

Bill proved not to be much of an agent, but he sure was fun to have around the house! While he was thinking about what he was going to do with the rest of his life, and eating Mom’s home-cooked meals every night, Bill would teach us tags. The guy was a savant, carrying all four parts in his head, and could teach the whole song by rote – eight bars at a time, with no “spots (That’s what we called sheet music back then).” In fact, that’s the way Bill had had taught most of the charts to the Thoroughbreds for four years – by rote.

So, Allen and I had one of the Society’s premiere musical smart-guys in the bedroom next to ours, and we got quite an education during his year and a half long visit. It turned out that we were pretty quick studies, which was a good match for a bipolar type, like Bill. There were five us in the house at that time who could hold our parts, and it was fairly easy to sing one of Bill’s tags after very little teaching time. The first one we learned was “I Found in My Mother’s Eyes.”

Bill moved to Chicago, and none of us ever heard from him again. Jim Miller and Joe Wise had been appointed co-directors, and with the help of coach/arranger Ed Gentry, ushered in a new era of barbershop chorus singing through the Thoroughbreds. Meanwhile, Mom took Bill’s place as Musical Director of the Kentuckiana Chapter of Sweet Adelines, Inc., later directing Falls of the Ohio Chapter, Derby City Chorus and Song of Atlanta. She served as a judge in SAI contests, and sang a pretty mean baritone.

Most choruses had a rule back then that excluded men under the age of 16. The exception was that one could join at 15, if your dad was an active member. The thinking was that the members looked forward to their night out with the men (not with the women or the children). They didn’t watch their language, and if they felt like having a beer or a smoke, they didn’t have to worry about being a role-model for just that one night each week. Boy, I miss those days!

Allen and I both joined at 15, and sang in our first Chorus Contest in Atlanta, in 1972, in which the chorus placed third. We were disappointed, as the Thoroughbreds had won the championship without our help in 1962, 1966 and 1969, and were tied with Pekin, IL for the most international wins. Allen headed off to Morehead State, and back home, Rick Staab, Danny Burgess and I got our feet wet, singing with an “old” Thoroughbred named Paul Morris on tenor. Paul was 28. We sang together for about six months. Rick went away to attend Georgetown University, breaking up the group, and Allen came home to attend University of Louisville. Then, Rick surprised everybody, and came home to attend U of L as well. That’s when the final combination of the Bluegrass Student Union was formed, with Allen on tenor. Now, we had four guys about the same age, with similar skills and education.

Mom (Mary Jo Hatton) was our first coach, and refused to let us work on craft, focusing instead on singing with the right muscles. She knew we wouldn’t go back and do that grunt-work after we had earned the “cheap” points. Mom was concerned about us damaging our young voices, so she demanded that we master vocal production first – a smart move.

TW: What got you interested in barbershop harmony?

KH: One could say, “See Question #2,” and just stop there, but there is a twist. As a young teenager during the hippie-years, barbershop was associated with the establishment, and we young people had our own subculture. We were told not to trust anyone over 30, and pop music was progressing in a different direction from Tin Pan Alley and the Great American Songbook. I perceived barbershop in those days as a fun hobby for older fellows, but the quartets and choruses I had heard didn’t seem like a good fit for the musical trends I was following as a baby-boomer.

Allen and I attended our first International Convention on our parents’ coattails in 1964. Later, we attended our second one in 1968 (I was twelve), and discovered that barbershoppers had lots of pretty daughters in the “Barberteens” room, but didn’t appear to have very many sons. That turned out to be handy for us. We enjoyed attending those conventions, and sang some tags, but didn’t really pay much attention to the musical goings-on – too many distractions.

Fortunately, Mom and Dad had a library of recordings of the Society’s Top Ten quartets, as well as recordings of live shows and Long Play (LP) record-albums produced by top quartets like the Renegades, Roaring Twenties, Boston Common, Dealers Choice, Regents, Gentlemen’s Agreement, Sundowners, Sidewinders, etc.. We listened to them all, and enjoyed some more than once. But far and away, the quartet whose records I fell in love with were produced by the Sun Tones (later the “Suntones”). My headphones and I spent hundreds of hours poring over their fantastic renditions of popular songs set to barbershop, and that music convinced me that this particular a cappella style could actually be “cool.” Later, I would wait by the mailbox for each new Suntones-record, as it was released. I listened until I had accidentally memorized all four parts to all of the several “Sunspots” records that we had. That was the final piece of the puzzle. I then joined the chorus, because I simply had to.

TW: You were a member of the Thoroughbreds, considered one of the most successful barbershop choruses in history. Can you share a few of your own experiences with the T-breds?

KH: Like you guys, I could write a book. Most of my experiences would be similar to those of other long time barbershoppers, and if I started telling about funny things that happened, we would never be able to list them all. I will mention one general happening that helped create my personal mission and philosophy.

Our 120 man chorus showed its best face during competitions, but after winning each trophy, about half of the guys would take a “break” for a couple of years. We would be left with 60-70 active singers, who did the business of the chorus, week in and week out. That core of “lifers” sold the tickets and program-ads, built the scenery, commissioned and tweaked the arrangements, rehearsed the show-tunes and performed the package-shows. The rest of the guys came back only to compete.

To our director, Jim Miller, it didn’t matter how small the audience was, or whether it was a prestigious event. He spent the same energy in preparation and performance, whether we were singing for a banquet of 75 people or a stadium of 10,000. I can recall many tough shows for small audiences who were not expecting the entertainment to be some barbershop group. Jim would plan the show carefully, knowing that we would have to work hard and smart, in order to please the “tough” crowd. Then, he would rehearse us for a couple of hours before the performance, to see which key people were missing, and would change his plan accordingly, moving certain singers to different voice parts to achieve balance, and substituting some second string MCs, soloists and quartet-singers.

After a complete run-through, the chorus would hit the stage, and Jim would let the audience know with his body language and apparent effort that we wanted to please them. He would work up a sweat, and motivate us to dig in, so as to deliver the most emotional and exciting performance we could muster. We always exceeded the expectations of those tougher (smaller) audiences, and each performance made the event seem more important to them and to us than it really was.

BSU followed Jim’s example in that regard, and, with few exceptions, we exceeded the expectations too. For three decades, our quartet did a complete run-through before every performance. We found that our percentage of remembered lyrics and accurate intervals went up, while our number of seconds of dead time went down.

Music Educators generally teach singers to perform without showing any apparent effort, but that was exactly the opposite of our approach. We always wanted the audience to sense how hard we were working for them, so we made sure that all of our effort was apparent. That made our audiences feel special, which is supposed to be “the job,” isn’t it? Jim’s and our approach was one of the things that set our chorus and quartet apart from most others, who tried to hide their effort during performances, for some unknown “sophisticated” reason.

One exception? We sang for a United Nations General Assembly dinner at the Waldorf Astoria in the early 1980s, and we gave ‘em our best stuff, performing with reckless abandon. We never got more than a white gloved golf-clap from those diplomats. Our host explained that they had all been taught to be very reserved, when in the presence of each other. But our job was to make them forget their emotional training, so we failed that day. There were no whistles, shouting, hats in the air, money or room-keys on the stage, and no tears or laughter from anybody. It was miserable. Later, at the reception, the audience-members were quick with the compliments flattery, but I just wanted to crawl under a rock.

The rest of the 33 years of shows pretty much run together in my mind, because they were the same in this regard: We gave everything we had in preparation and performance, and fell across the goal line each time, totally spent and exhausted… victorious! Looking back, our experience was a lot more fulfilling than if we had taken some drugs, skipped across the stage, and tried to hide our efforts from the crowd. Thanks, Jim!

TW: What were the names of some of the quartets and quartet-singers you sang with before the Bluegrass Student Union? Compared to those quartets, what was different about the BSU?

KH: BSU was the first organized quartet of which I was a member. Years later, I sang in several other quartets; Kids at Heart, The Sensations, The Exchange, Four for the Price, Bold Venture and The Daddy-Ohs! One difference with BSU was trust. Since I knew that the other parts would always be where they were supposed to be, I was free to think about the message of the song and our emotional connection with the audience, instead of being preoccupied with a few synchronization errors, out of tune chords or horizontal tuning (song going sharp). The other main difference was the fact that BSU was all business. When the last man arrived at rehearsal or at the studio, we started singing, and we didn’t quit until the first guy had to leave. On the road, we didn’t sight-see or attend a lot of parties. We discussed future plans on the plane or in the car, had our carb-dinner together, rehearsed at the hotel, went to the venue early, set up our recordings in the lobby, dressed and made up, did our complete run-through, and gave our performance. Then, we repeated the process before the afterglow. We often listened to the show tape on the way home, and discussed improvements for the next show. Every action was designed to maximize the quality of performance. In some of those other quartets, we spent a little time more enjoying ourselves, and that was fun, too, but in a different way.

TW: What can you tell us about a few of your most memorable BSU performances?

KH: There was a sameness about our performances over the years that makes them all kind of a blur. The common denominator was the audience-reaction. We started with a short, fast, high pitched opener, designed to get the audience’s attention away from whatever had preceded us on the show. We followed with self-deprecating humor, to make them like us personally. Then, we sang a swing-tune to charm, and followed with a sincere love-ballad, for the “kill.” After that, we could sing our novelty songs, to demonstrate virtuosity, and repeat the process ad infinitum. We were never really a one-song standing ovation kind of quartet. Our approach was a selling process, designed to earn the audience’s respect and love over the course of the performance. Typically, the long or standing ovation would come at the end, as designed, and only then would we agree to perform an encore. Incidentally, you never saw BSU take cups or bottles of water on the stage. What’s up with that? Do beta-blockers dry you out?

Of course, we saw our share of far-away places and prestigious venues, but prestige and exoticness were not what made a performance memorable. Again, it was the audience. One that stands out was in Viborg, South Dakota. This community had one hotel, made of unpainted concrete blocks. There was no phone in the room, and a black and white TV was advertised at 50 cents extra per day. The venue was a high school gymnasium, and our expectations were low. Nevertheless, we prepared according to our training, and when we hit the stage, we realized there was standing room only in the place; people were hanging from the light fixtures to get a chance to see this show. We didn’t know that South Dakotans rarely got to see any kind of live entertainment. People had driven to Viborg from several hundred miles around. It was such an appreciative crowd, and we were able to deliver a solid performance because we had not taken them for granted. Carnegie Hall was nice, but this crowd was deafening!

We were invited to sing on the Saturday evening show at the Buckeye Invitational, in Columbus, Ohio, 30 years after our first performance. It was to be our second appearance at the Buckeye, which was rare, so we were excited about the opportunity, late in our long career.

We decided to dress and make up in our hotel rooms, and arrived during intermission, knowing that there would be a feature quartet before our spot as the headliner, which was traditionally the final act. The stage manager excitedly welcomed us into a dressing room, expressing surprise that we were so late, and advising that we were scheduled to open the second half of the show. I apologized, and asked, “Who is headlining?” “Max Q,” he replied (who at that time was a silver medalist).

Barbershop-etiquette calls for the International Champion to headline the show, which should have been us. It was (and is) a slap in the face for any champion to play second fiddle to a second place quartet. Of course, it was possible that the show producers were neophyte barbershoppers who didn’t know any better. However, there is no way that Max Q would not have known that tradition. They should have declined immediately, when asked to headline, but evidently, they had decided it was appropriate for them to be the stars of the show, for some reason that was more important than good manners.

We decided that the only thing to do was to remain quiet about their offense, and to simply do our “talking” with our performance, as we had been trained to do. We spent a few minutes in the dressing room, rearranged our song-order and palaver for maximum effect, and went through the curtain with big ol’ grins, about half pissed off. We opened with “Back in Business,” and the crowd went wild. We just banged every song, and there was nothing left for Max Q, but a pile of juice. In the lobby after the show, our recording table was mobbed, and theirs had four lonely guys in tuxedos holding pens, with a couple of crickets chirping, and no autographs to sign. Second again!

As we were packing up, Jeff Oxley ambled over, and said sheepishly, “I guess you guys probably should have headlined this show.” Ya think? Yeah, that one was memorable. We never told anybody about it, until this writing.

In the 80s, we did some research by surveying the various chapters. There were over 800, and about 600 of them held an annual show, with a guest quartet. If you took out the holiday weekends, on a given Saturday night, there were 15 annual chapter-shows going on in the country. All of the show-chairmen wanted a champion, a past-champion or a top ten quartet as their headliner. As one of the most popular show-quartets, we had our choice, so we conducted a survey, and began to be selective about which bids we would accept. Our goal was to maximize fun and profit. We started to perform only where the chapter had a larger crowd (good for recording sales) and a reputation of hospitality where other guest quartets were concerned (good for the fun).

We pitched in with the Citations, the Harrington Brothers and eventually the Suntones, to organize three special weekends. We approached chapters about sponsoring special shows that would feature BSU and each one of those other quartets, with only quartet-singing – no choruses. The idea went viral, and the three weekends were spectacular - so much fun! The last one was in 1991, with the Suntones. We performed on a Friday night, two shows on Saturday and one on Sunday afternoon in the southern Michigan and northern Ohio areas. What a kick to ride around for the weekend with our idols, and get to know them personally! We included a set as an octet, since we knew all of their tunes, and we traded two of our guys for two of their guys at the afterglows. It was a dream come true, and BONUS – we all became good friends.

TW: What BSU CD recording project generated the biggest sense of pride, and what about that project was different?

KH: We were proud of all of our recordings, because we took great care in the production of each one. From a young age, we knew that our quartet was finite, and hoped that people would listen to our recordings, long after we were gone. That thought was on our minds with the planning and execution of each project. Bobby Ernspiker was our recording engineer, and he was also the son of a Thoroughbred.

On the first two albums, “After Class” and “The Older the Better,” we had a largely technical approach, caring more about the accuracy of the notes, the ringing of the chords and the intelligibility of the lyrics than about the art. We were making pretty good bucks on the road, so we decided to give Bob unlimited control over the duration of sessions. Bob was our fifth set of ears, and was instrumental in capturing the best performances we could muster. Unlike other quartets, we spent six months to a year in weekly recording sessions, to do our best work. It was our perception that those albums were not perfect, but they were better than most others. We made money, although our sales were not yet commensurate with the expense and effort we had invested.

Having met Walter Latzko, we decided to do our first theme album, which would be the first one created by any barbershop quartet. We chose Meredith Willson’s “The Music Man” as the theme, and set to work on Walter’s fantastic arrangements. We spent more time listening to Bobby’s guidance in the studio about emotional performance. It took a year to take the tunes from the paper to the stage, and another year to record them. This time, we spared no expense on the studio time, the costuming, choreography, graphic art and photography, in an attempt to create the best show-package and recording in the history of the Society. The result was an artistic success, but again, the sales were no better than those of any ol’ past champion.

In spite of the apparent unwillingness of the buying public to notice any difference, we were pleased with the product, and decided to look for another theme. We eventually settled on the songs of the 40s, and the idea for our “Jukebox Saturday Night” album was born. Latzko and Waesche, our two faves, collaborated on the charts, and we applied the same attention to detail (and spent the same moneys), to create the best product possible. We accelerated our attention to capturing the right mood for each song. When that recording hit the streets, the sales went through the roof. It was puzzling; perhaps the barbershoppers were tired of the Music Man theme, but excited about hearing tunes adapted to barbershop that they had not heard before. For whatever reason, this particular theme appealed to them, and Jukebox catapulted us to a new level of acclaim that left the other past champs behind. The perception was that we were progressing, improving and pushing the edge of the envelope musically, just as our great examples, the Suntones and the Buffalo Bills, had done twenty and thirty years before.

We continued that approach with a collection of tunes written by George Gershwin, whose chords and progressions had earned his songs taboo-status in previous Society competitions. But we liked them, and so did Walter (Latzko) and Ed (Waesche). The result was our album, “Here to Stay,” the first one we did not release as an LP record, but only as a CD and a cassette. The songs were more sophisticated, the arrangements were arguably better, and the performances were emotional. The singing demonstrated greater savvy, while our technical execution was just a hair less precise than that of the previous two recordings. The perception was that this was a lateral move, kind of an extension of Jukebox, and the sales were just as strong as those of the previous album.

In 1998, we introduced “LEGACY,” a 25 year collection of audio recordings in a 3-CD box set, including all five studio-albums, several previously unreleased tracks and a recording of a live show, complete with declamatory stuff between songs. In 2006, we created our final recording product, called “COMMENCEMENT,” a 2-disc set (1 CD and 1 DVD). The audio disc includes a few tracks that we were messing around with when we decided to retire for good. The video disc includes the best performance of each song that we could find on video tapes we had collected over the years.

Fans of “Here to Stay” and “Jukebox” have since gone back and checked out “Music Man,” and found it to have been under appreciated by past generations. We understand that our video of the Music Man show-package has been used by teachers at Harmony University for decades, to demonstrate showmanship, the way to put a show together, avoidance of dead time and the use of costumes, props, lighting, effective pauses and voice-over-music, to enhance a quartet’s performance. That pleases us very much. All of our tracks are available perpetually and digitally through iTunes, CDbaby.com and Pandora. We have discontinued production of all hard copy CDs, etc.

We are certainly proud of all of the products, since those five (original) releases each represented our best work at a certain stage in our development. By design, many of the songs in the second half our career had a timeless appeal that continues to pay dividends. Thanks to some good taste in song selection, great arrangers, hard work, outside-the-box engineering and professional artwork, our collections of recordings are still being purchased and listened to today. We anticipate that people will enjoy our music a century or two after we start keeping each other company at the ol’ marble orchard.

TW: The Nashville Singers had a chance to sing your arrangement of “Manly Men” a few years ago, and the audience loved it! When did you complete your first vocal arrangement? Do you remember the name of the song?

KH: Glad you liked that one, but sorry, I really don’t remember the first one. When BSU started, I was not adequately educated to sight-read. That skill was developed slowly, and by necessity, over the years. BSU was a hybrid quartet – that is to say, we were products of the woodshedding generations of the 40s, 50s and 60s, but were also affected by the work of genius-arrangers of the 70s and 80s. As a result, we did not trust some aspects of the written arrangement, and always reserved the right to woodshed our own changes. Sometimes, they were necessary, to facilitate breath-points and “covers” of pickups. Other times, they were swipes that we heard and felt, as we learned the chart. Helping to create the tune was a big part of the fun that we simply refused to give up.

Most arrangers think it is presumptuous of others to change anything about their work. That attitude is hypocritical and presumptuous in itself, since an arrangement, by definition, is composed of changes from the songwriter’s original work, who is the real (and legal) artist in question, anyway. As we experienced different arrangers, we figured out which ones had a problem with our changes, and we quietly declined any and all opportunities to sing their charts. Ed Waesche was the first to exhibit an appreciation for what he called our “musical sensibilities,” and endorsed our changes, unless we committed a form-error, which he would help us to correct. Later, Walter Latzko encouraged those same sensibilities, so we had two of the smartest geniuses in our corner, which was more than anybody else had. Those who wanted to dictate every aspect of the way we sang a song could go find their own quartet. This one was ours!

The woodshedding accelerated my learning process, and over the years, I learned to spell some of the chords, identify intervals, tell a major key from a relative minor key, make up simple key-changes, etc. Before long, I could sight-read all four parts, and would know them cold before we had our first rehearsal on a given song.

It wasn’t until 2002 that I bought my first Finale software. Friend Walter, had suffered a stroke several years prior, but was still writing arrangements daily, using his left hand to operate the mouse of a computer. The Finale system would enable me to be of assistance to him.

In his salad days, Walter could write an arrangement with his lead pencil and some blank staff-paper while on an airline flight that lasted a couple of hours. He could see the notes on the page in his head, could hear the tune being sung (also in his head), and he could write it down as fast as you or I could write a letter to Mom. That was his genius, and it explains why only a handful of our Society members were respected arrangers in those days. In no case did it take Walter longer than a few hours to hand write an arrangement of a single song.

However, the stroke had robbed him of the use of his strong writing hand and of some of his energy. On the computer, it then took Walter about twelve hours to write an arrangement. It became a two day job, so he would sometimes tire of the piece before he finished, and would send it to me for ideas from my old “musical sensibilities.” We collaborated on a lot of charts during the last years of his life, and he taught me a lot about arranging.

Lacking formal musical education, I am certainly no match for the geniuses who have that special (in their head) kind of talent. However, with the aid of the Finale program, I found that I was competent to write a chart that included some original ideas. With the computer, I could listen to my work through speakers, instead of “in my head,” and, with effort, could tweak the chart until it met my own standards as a top quartet singer.

It was a labor of love, and I was mentored by a guy whom I loved. I found that, even as my performing ability began to slow down, my strong imagination produced the same endorphin-rush, while writing, that I had enjoyed as a performer. Over the past 14 years, I have compiled a modest library of 60 or 70 charts. However, I was not the only one who discovered that Finale can take the place of those certain genius-skills. There are now more competent arrangers than there used to be, all competing for the attention of the top ten quartets and choruses. Of course, there only ten of them, right? So, my catalogue has been placed with friend Jay Giallombardo and his wife Helen, in the hope that some hot shot quartets might notice them. Some of those charts are listed on Jay’s web site, but I am not writing much these days.

Some favorite arrangements that I wrote include a medley of songs from “Paint Your Wagon,” a millennial song popularized by “Five for Fighting” called “100 Years,” and a five part solo (with barbershop chorus background) called “I’m Gonna Move to the Outskirts of Town.” My favorite collaboration with Walter is a contest-chart of a song written by Mel Tormé and Bob Wells, called “County Fair” for an obscure Disney film called “So Dear to My Heart.” We finished that one shortly before my old friend passed away. All of those tunes have matching learning tracks, which should be available from Jay. You can hear full mixes of several of them on my album, “Walter and Me,” available on iTunes and CDbaby.com. Thanks for the commercial.

TW: From 2004 to 2011, you released four recordings as a soloist. What/who inspired you down that path? How would folks purchase some of those products?

KH: In January of 2002, the phone rang, interrupting a BSU rehearsal on a Sunday evening at Thoroughbred Hall. A tiny voice said, “You don’t know me, but my name is Chilton Price, and I’ve written a song to honor the fallen firefighters from the 911 disaster. We would like for the Thoroughbreds to sing it.”

Usually, such a phone call resulted in an embarrassing experience, because I would have to tell the person that they had written a bad song. This time, such was not the case. Ms. Price faxed me her song, and on Monday, I sent it to Walter, who wrote a chart that same day. That evening, I passed it out to the chorus, and we learned in the same night. Two weeks later, we performed it for a thousand attendees of a convention of the National Association of Retired Military Officers and their bejeweled significant others, at the Grand Ballroom of the Galt House Hotel, in downtown Louisville. The place came apart.

I visited Ms. Price the following Tuesday evening, to present her with a recording of that performance, and to thank her for thinking of us. She said,” Ken, I didn’t tell you who I really was, because I wanted you to judge my song by its own merits. I have several gold records hanging on the wall in my hallway. I wrote ‘You Belong to Me’ and other hits from the 1950s. They stopped recording my music when Elvis came along, because I refused to change my writing style. But I have continued to write new songs that sound just like the Great American Songbook tunes for the last 50 years. No one with talent has ever heard them before. Would you be willing to listen to some?”

Chilton played, and I sang. I felt as if I had won the lottery. The first song made me cry, and each one was better than the last one. This was the start of a beautiful friendship that lasted 400 Tuesday nights over an eight year period, until her death at the age of 96. We catalogued her music, and wrote verses and extra lyrics together. We collaborated on new original songs. And we talked about every aspect of our lives, keeping no secrets. You guys should know by now that when you make music together, it is one of the most intimate things you can do with another person. When writing together, we had to communicate the same feeling to the listener, so we had to compare our feelings and life-experiences, in order to tell the same story. It really was one of the thrills of my life, to become friends with an accomplished songwriter, and Chilton, in particular, was a genuine person, with great wisdom and class. She taught me how to write songs.

Along the way, Chilton expressed her desire to have other artists sample her work. We were already familiar with the freshly budding careers of Michael Bublé and Josh Groban, so she was inspired to hire a pianist and record a demo-CD of original songs, with me doing the singing. We called it “Pure Price.” The project turned out well, but we were advised that new songs presented by a new singer was a tough sell. So, we went back to the studio, and recorded a CD with half original songs and half familiar songs, called “The Best Is Yet to Come.” Then, we were advised that, while piano-vocal was charming, the tunes really deserved more accompaniment. So, we went back a third time, and recorded yet another CD of half familiar and half original songs, but this time with a full 17 piece big band and a dozen string-players. The original band-charts were written by our favorite pianist, Jay Flippin, who also put together the best musicians in Louisville for the project. Man, this was a dream come true! To be the Sinatra-guy, with a studio full of hot players and the actual songwriter, smiling behind the glass. It really was heaven. We got to meet with Michael Feinstein for an afternoon, but so far, none of Chilton’s and my unpublished works have been recorded by anyone famous.

By that time, BSU had slowed down, and in December of 2006, we called it quits for good. Another singer who was working at the studio had a steady gig, fronting a big band on the Cunard cruise-ship “Queen Elizabeth II,” and needed some relief, so he could spend more time with his family. So, he got me set up to take his place on several trips for 35 days at a time over the next two years (2007-2008). That was a real learning experience. I was surprised to learn that those musicians do not rehearse. They don’t need the practice, because they can sight-read it the first time, and make it sound like some guy on the radio. The only question was, could I keep up with them?

We had several thousand passengers on the ship, and several hundred of them came on board strictly for the ballroom dancing in the ship’s famous Queen’s Room, which was designed and furnished in the style of the Titanic, from the original White Star Line. It was a classy joint, full of rich folks from several continents, who were very sensitive to the tempo required for each different kind of dance. We performed two one hour sets each evening, seven days a week, and we were not to repeat a song during any certain cruise, some of which lasted for more than two weeks. I had the opportunity to perform several hundred different songs, and I had a whole four measures to figure out the key, tempo, meter and rhythm of each one, before coming in on time and in tune.

The international montage of musicians was mostly fresh out of college, using their talents to work their way around the world, before settling down with a job and family. These guys were all pretty jaded, and showed it with their playing. Everybody was in business for himself, and not enjoying the room, the crowd or even each other. It became apparent that they had been taught by their university professors to look down their noses at the listeners and at other musicians who could not play as well. We had a trombone player who was a great sight-reader, but who was not an experienced improviser. They would “throw him the ball,” and then laugh hysterically (in full view of the audience) at his feeble attempts to play a trombone-solo.

I dressed them down pretty good during the next break. I let them know that this was unprofessional behavior, and I expected them to get a haircut, be sober, stop showing up with spotted ties and wrinkled clothes, and to act like pros, instead of amateurs. They could set me off the boat in Tahiti, and I could fly home – no problem, and they could explain the absence of the singer for the rest of the month. Then, I began to recognize horn players from the stage whenever one would distinguish himself with a solo. I gave them nicknames, like “Mr. Incredible (Ukrainian)” and “Lady-Killer (Canadian).” Before long, those guys were smiling at each other, calling out the measure-numbers and enjoying playing as an ensemble. We didn’t feature the trombone player anymore.

It was a little nerve-wracking at the start, but after three or four days, I was comfortable enough to look up from the music-stand and perform. After another few days, the music-director in charge of all the acts asked me to handle the speaking between songs. At the end of our first 17 day cruise, the passenger-evaluations gave us a score of 85 out of 100, which turned out to be the highest score ever awarded to that particular room. The musicians and the bosses were pretty doggone happy, and the band-director got a raise. All that resulted from a barbershopper – an amateur with a professional attitude – being thrown in with a bunch of professional musicians with bush-league attitudes. I found out from the band-cats that singing in tune on that ship made me an anomaly, which helped.

We made some good noise, and I learned a lot. The favorite tunes we played turned out to be a samba called Quando Quando Quando, with lyrics by Pat Boone, and a waltz-rendition of “If You Were the Only Girl in the World.” The young cats had never heard of the latter, but played it well, and told me, “Dude, you sang that tune like you wrote it!” It was fun! I was able to stick and jab – to back phrase – whenever I felt like it; much different from singing homophony with a quartet. No rehearsal was necessary.

After each performance, we had a midnight buffet, and then I would stay up all night in my cabin, writing band-charts. What was cool about that? The band would play the chart the next night, and would then give me pointers about my writing. It was a great experience, but after two years, I had enjoyed a lot of songs, and had learned everything the ship could teach me. I came home, and fronted for the Don Krekel Orchestra, a big band in Louisville, for a couple years, before retiring from solo-singing. It was a kick, but in the music biz, “you is either famous, or you is pore!” My last gig was a party for some rich folks at the Galt House on New Year’s Eve of 2015. I looked marvelous, but filled the room with mediocrity. Time to move on.

By that time, I had collaborated with Walter on some great charts, and I had written some myself that I liked, so I produced an a cappella recording, singing all four parts. I called it “Walter and Me, and it appears with my three solo recordings on iTunes and CDbaby.com, under the artist-name Kenny Ray Hatton.

TW: Can you talk about some of the choruses you have had a chance to lead over the years? What advice could you give to aspiring choral-directors?

KH: It was always a dream to someday be front-line director of the Thoroughbreds. At the same time, I had watched as the guys who followed John Wooden at UCLA and Adolph Rupp at University of Kentucky do well, but fail to come close to the records of the great ones. I did not relish the thought of following Jim Miller with the ‘Breds.

Brother Allen got his shot when Jim resigned in 1985, as co-director with Ken Buckner. Then, when Bunk left town to work for the Society in Kenosha, Allen was the man! He did well, and if you listen to the recordings, the chorus did some of its best singing ever, under his direction. But certain other choruses were getting better exponentially, and even though the T-Breds tied for first in 1990, the proverbial “coin-toss” went to Dr. Greg Lyne and his Masters of Harmony. Egos, trends and politics divided our chapter after that. Choruses have a way of assigning all the credit for a chorus’s success and all the blame for its failures to the director, neither of which is true. But directors and chorus-members know that going in, so I suppose it’s fair.

When Allen resigned in December of 1992, I was not active in the chorus, but the BOD sent guys to talk to me. I had recently started my own business, and was not prepared to discuss the matter until August of 1993. They had appointed a guy as “interim director,” while they conducted a “search.” The Board asked me to keep quiet about their approach, so they could make that guy think he was getting the job permanently, while they waited six months for me. I refused to make that promise, but I did not go out of my way to let him know. I regret that.

That’s the thing about chorus-directing that I detested – the politics. The official BOD of our beloved Thoroughbreds deceived that poor fellow, an action which was, in their minds, “in the best interests of the chapter.” I never understood how lying to a guy could ever be in the best interest of any chapter. But that’s what you get, when you put humans in charge.

A seasoned judge once wrote, “You get good marks, and win a scholarship. You finish pre-law, and get into a great law-school, where you graduate with honors, and land a job as a clerk for a Federal judge. You get on with a prestigious firm, and after several years, they make you a partner. Then, you run for circuit-judge, and win the election. Your first trial is almost over, and who makes the decision? Two retired guys, three housewives, a file clerk, a bricklayer, a schoolteacher and ditch-digger!” That’s kind of the way a barbershop chorus works. The Board of Directors searches to find the most skilled and knowledgeable person they can to be the Music Director. Then, knowing they are less qualified, they complicate your efforts with frequent attempts to micromanage. Unless you can earn enough implied authority with the troops, it is a built-in recipe for failure.

Regardless, I showed up to accept the directorate in August, and we went to the Cardinal District prelims a few weeks later. We won handily, with a group of about 70 men, and began to prepare for our annual Christmas Show, as well as the 1994 International Chorus Contest in Pittsburgh, with 92 guys on stage.

International competition was a different story. Our ranks had been decimated during the prior year by the formation of the Louisville Times Chorus by David Harrington and Mark Hale, along with a couple of dozen of our better singers. The new group had a tough audition for admission, and didn’t invite any of our “average” singers to participate. Wonder where that idea came from?

That loss of so many good singers gave us a tougher row to hoe, but we started in earnest on the fundamentals. We tackled a new Ed Waesche medley of Hoagy Carmichael’s “Billy-A-Dick” and Jule Styne’s Rat-Tat-Tat-Tat,” along with a new chart of “Till We Meet Again.” We had Sally Whitledge, of International SAI Champion “4th Edition” fame as our choreographer, and her husband, Bob, of the “Gentlemen’s Agreement,” was our bass section leader and one of our associate directors.

We worked hard, but the resulting performance was scored in the mid-80s; not up to the chorus’s reputation, nor to my standards. I was privately embarrassed by the singing, even before the scoresheets revealed a 6th place finish. Another year and two new contest songs later, our 1995 contest performance in Miami was equally embarrassing (to me), and the rank was identical (a gift, in my opinion). In the meantime, we had done a lot of exciting B-level singing on shows, and held on to most of our local following.

When Ken Buckner announced that he was moving back to Louisville, I was sure that he could lead the chorus to greater heights than I. As it turned out, the performance we gave in the 1995 fall contest was the best singing the chorus had ever given under my direction. I had my letter of resignation in my pocket, and handed it to the Chapter President immediately after we came off stage, and before the call-off. I was finally proud of a contest-performance, even before I learned that we had won, and we had beaten the second place chorus, the Louisville Times, by 20 points. I handed the baton to Bunk, and wished him well.

Three years later, in February of 1998, the chorus was struggling even harder, and I was approached by the president and one of the associate directors to again serve as front line director. When I showed up at the Board meeting to respond, both of those guys denied in my presence that they had approached me. Once again, they didn’t want to hurt the feelings of the guy who was in charge at the time. More politics – more lying.

I then announced to the Board that this idea must have come to me in a dream during the night. I would be out in the parking lot long enough to have a smoke – about four minutes, and then my offer would be withdrawn. They came out and got me to serve as director three minutes later, but explained that they had to complete their “search,” so it would be a couple of months before I would start my term. That wasted time led to a slim defeat in the fall contest at the hands of our rivals, the Louisville Times – more embarrassment. We weren’t even the best barbershop chorus in town! Still, we received a “wild card” bid to participate in the International Chorus Contest, where they finished eighth, and we finished fifth.

This time, I quickly got Brother Allen on Board, appointing him as co-director for the duration. The group improved exponentially in preparation for the 1999 chorus contest in Anaheim. We commissioned a new Waesche arrangement of the Irving Berlin tune, “Pack up Your Sins, and Go to the Devil,” and dusted off Ed’s old chart of “Over the Rainbow.” The Anaheim contest saw the Thoroughbreds return to the medals, although it was a bronze, awarded for a 5TH place finish. In the old days, it would have been disappointing, but our guys jumped for joy, as they had failed to even qualify for the dance the previous year (for the first time ever).

We seemed to have a tiger by the tail, but that’s when the wheels started to come off. Allen and I agreed to implement individual performance-accountability, and divided the chorus into two groups – one performing group and the other remedial. This was our way of competing against the “hand-picked” choruses – by focusing our teaching efforts on smaller groups and individuals where they were needed most. We had not predicted that the remedial group would be embarrassed to the extent that they would vote as a political block. The following year, we competed with fewer singers, and dropped out of the top ten choruses, and in 2001, in Nashville, finished 14th. That was it! Allen and I were pretty much out on our ear.

We left the chapter with about 30 guys, and formed the New Horizon Chorus, leaving the ‘Breds in even worse shape. We had allowed ourselves to be affected by the individual performance accountability standards which were running rampant around the Society, but our Thoroughbreds were not willing to accept them. In retrospect, we would have been smarter to have continued the path of John Henry against the steam drill. We still would not have won the championship, but we would have gone down swinging! Instead, we joined the plethora of chapters who had divided themselves in the interest of the elitist-singer. We had become what we had previously scorned. We ended up with three “also-ran” choruses, in lieu of the mighty International Champion Thoroughbreds.

In 2013, I moved to Alabama for work, and also accepted the job of Music Director of Voices of the South, in Birmingham, Alabama. We started with sores of 68%, and (several times) raised those scores to the middle 70s. We finished second in our first spring chorus contest, and three years later. We tied for second, one point out of first, in my final contest performance as a director. We sang some good shows during our three years, and the guys were kind enough to sing some of my arrangements, along with some written by my late pals, Walter and Ed, as well as two original songs written by my dear departed friend, Chilton Price and me. I retired in 2016, because some physical ailments made it difficult to perform the athletic tasks associated with conducting. Also, I had not been able to figure out how to grow the chorus. We started with 22 active, and we ended with 22 active. I thought perhaps a younger guy could do better.

What did I learn that I can share with aspiring chorus directors? I was not smart enough to figure that out. All hail Jim Miller! He used to say, “I hate when you guys whine, ‘I don’t know what to do, Jimmy.’ Maybe I’ll smack you in the balls, and then you’ll sure know what to do. You’ll say, ouch!” I wrote an e-book about Jim’s life called, “If Not for Jim,” available on Amazon and iBooks, which was released in 2012, a few months after his passing, at the age of 87. Read the book, and maybe you can get some advice from Jim. My advice is, if you don’t know what to do, stick to quartet-singing, or you might get smacked in the balls.

TW: You’ve had a chance to work with so many amazing coaches over the years. What is some of the best advice you have been given by a coach?

KH: Well… not so many. In the 70s, Jim was too busy directing and singing in the Citations to coach us as a quartet. Ed Gentry was already coaching the Citations, the Thoroughbreds and the Cardinals quartet. My mother was our first coach, as previously mentioned. Her lessons had to do with breath support and using the right muscles, which held us back at first, but raised the level at which we would perform later. We failed to qualify for International in our first two attempts, in 1974 and 1975. However, we had won the Cardinal District Championship, in the fall of 1974, a year after our formation. Back then, there just weren’t many good singing young quartets. Most good ensembles were in their thirties, forties and fifties. The hot-shots of our youth had been the Sundowners and the Grandmas Boys, who were six to ten years older than we.

The Johnny Appleseed District had scouted us at our convention, and invited us to an all-expense paid trip to the JAD spring convention, in 1975. There, we sang for the quartet contest audience, while the scores were being tallied. Let’s just say, we were having a good day. We sang almost everything we knew, and there were money and panties thrown on the stage. We got to our dressing rooms, and already had our jackets off, when the MC came to get us, and said, “They won’t stop clapping until you guys come back out here. They don’t care who won the quartet contest.”

So, we went back out, and sang the only other song we knew; the Suntones’ “Lollipops and Roses,” being sure to apologize in advance for the fact that it wasn’t suitable for the contest stage. In the judges’ pit that night was a man named Don Clause. When we left Dayton on Sunday, he was our new coach. Don was one of the writers of the category description of the new “Sound” category, and was getting ready to be C&J Chairman, which we didn’t care about. He was also the coach of the 1973 and 1974 International Champions, the Dealers Choice and the Regents. We recognized him from his picture on the back of the DC’s first album, which we did care about.

Within a year, Don had introduced us to several original Ed Waesche contest-arrangements, had us as his guests on Long Island for a weekend coaching session, had interpreted all four of our new contest songs (which we recorded), and had challenged us to master our craft, using the Society’s “green book,” a craft-manual patterned after the one Ed Gentry had written for the Thoroughbreds.

We didn’t always sing every phrase the way Don had instructed, but he never noticed that. What Don did for us was to convince us that we could master our craft, and provide a tie-breaker to keep us from arguing about how to sing each phrase. We did all of our homework within six months, having applied our new craft to the four Waesche charts, including “Midnight Rose,” and “I’ve Found My Sweetheart, Sally.” In the spring of 1976, at the ages of 20 and 21, BSU won the Cardinal prelims, and in San Francisco, in our first International Quartet Contest, we were awarded a 4th place medal. That was the biggest thrill in my quartet career, to this day. It was so unexpected by so many people, including us!

Don’s impact was the greatest, but not the only one from great coaches. He put each of us in touch with our weaknesses. Mine was pushing down low, instead of trusting my fellow singers to help create my note. Ricky’s was forgetting the dynamic plan. Danny’s challenge was to be firmer with his diction. Allen’s was to keep his falsetto tenor balanced (softer).

Our visual presentation coach was the great Ron Riegler, from the Roaring Twenties, who came in fifth to our fourth, at the San Francisco Convention. Ron taught us to move to the outside when singing louder, and move to the inside when singing softer. He taught us to do a preparatory move in the opposite direction from which we intended to move, like Jackie Gleason before he would say, “And away we go!” Sadly, Ron became gravely ill in early 1977, and passed away after the 1977 convention. We recruited my high school drama teacher, Gene Stickler, to choreograph four new tunes for the 1977 and 1978 contests. You would have sworn that Gene was Ron’s brother; they were so much alike!

The third coach was a more modest fellow, also from Cincinnati, Ed Weber. Ed was a stage presence judge, who specialized in facial expression, focal point and the fundamentals of stage presence. He taught us that it mattered where we looked in the audience during each phrase, and that our facial expression should be planned to mirror the emotion suggested by the changing message of the song. Ed taught us never to raise our hands above the waist, unless there was a planned reason for them to be up there. And don’t ever close your eyes. They are the windows to the emotions.

Our makeup guy was Joe Bruno, who taught us which stage makeup to buy, and how to apply it modestly, so that we looked normal and handsome on stage, rather than like a bunch of clowns. The makeup was a part of our ritual of preparation, which helped us to feel an aura of invincibility before we took the stage. The longhairs coming out of the universities to save us all from ourselves have since convinced our lazier members that such efforts are unnecessary. Consequently, their faces wash out in the stage lights, and we can see their expressions only by watching the big screen – when there is a big screen, that is. We miss you, Joe.

Our costume-designers included Louise Cecil, a professional, who made the brightly colored thrift-store knickerbockers that we wore during our three contest years for $143.75 – for all four them! Another was clothier and barbershopper Mike Mazucca, who designed our unique kelly green tuxedos and our rose colored (pink) tuxedos for the other two contest sets. Our last costume-designer was Dan’s wife, Cyndy Burgess, who had a degree in Home Economics from the University of Kentucky. She designed and built our Music Man costumes – the ones that appeared in the photograph, with the plumed hats and reversible jackets. We wore them on stage for many years.

TW: What are your thoughts on the evolution of the music-industry and songwriting over the course of your lifetime? Are you happy with this evolution?

KH: Well first, let me say that Irving Scrooge Berlin was a greedy SOB. Besides refusing to allow barbershop arrangements of his songs because our genre was not “legitimate,” thanks to that stuck up, crusty old curmudgeon, who never learned to read a note of music, and played piano only by ear in the key of F sharp, and thanks to his lawyers, the term of a song-copyright was extended from 50 years after the copyright started to 90 years after the death of the longest surviving collaborator. I don’t like that very much.

I am glad to see the money-people, whose only talent is to recognize and take advantage of the potential of others, finally being left out of the mix, thanks to technology. With the advent of cell-phones, video and social media, any artist can reach the public directly with his or her songs, voice and instrument, from the safety and obscurity of his bathroom or basement. He or she no longer needs cow-tow to the David Fosters and Phil Specters of the world, in order to be “discovered.” If his or her talent is special, it will now be noticed by the real judges. In the words of the late George Gershwin, “It is not the few knowing ones whose opinions make any work of art great; it is the judgment of the great mass that finally decides.”

Of course, I detest licensing agencies BMI, ASCAP, SESAC, and abhor publishers Hal Leonard and Alfred Publishing for what they have done to the undiscovered songwriter and hobby-singer/player of music, and I am embarrassed and angry that our Society is playing ball with them. By the way, BHS is both a licensing agency and a publisher. The former group of pariahs caters only to the writers of songs featured in blockbuster movies, the top 100 grossing concerts annually and of protected works that get radio, TV and internet airplay. The latter group is squeezing the rest of us out of mere participation by the high cost of permission to arrange, perform, record and promote, and our Society is helping them do it by agreeing to their terms.

Our better option is to join together to boycott all protected works, and resort to Public Domain songs and original songs copyrighted by our own members, and to make sure not to allow any of those publishers or licensing agencies (or our Society) to participate in even partial ownership of our protected works. This happened once before, you know, when ASCAP got too big for its britches in the late 1940s, and took all of its catalogue off the radio airwaves. That’s what gave birth to the country music industry and caused BMI to be formed. Perhaps such a boycott now, would birth another industry called a cappella. There are thousands of public domain songs that are very fine vehicles, and we are perfectly capable of writing our own songs that fit the style.

Meanwhile, if you want to adapt any protected work to the barbershop style represented by one of these licensing agencies or publishers, just so your quartet or chorus can sing it in a show or a contest for which you might earn no moneys in exchange, please be prepared to pay several hundred dollars to the copyright owner, just in exchange for permission. Of course, another way is to woodshed your own arrangement of a protected work, which constitutes “fair use,” under the law, as long as it is not written down. We used to all know how to do that!

TW: What personal accomplishment are you most proud of outside the world of barbershop harmony?

KH: Many people like to say they are proud of their families. I cannot take the credit for the successes of my children, and I will not take the blame for their failures. We lead the horses to the water, but it is up to them to make the choice to drink. I feel good about having done my job. They did not ask to be brought into the world. Their mother and I made that decision, and all three arrived kicking and screaming mad about it. We owed them good food, clothing, shelter, education and love. We paid our debt and provided additional things like cars and money after they were grown. Since then, it has been up to them. To their credit, they are all paying taxes, and none are drug-addicts or criminals. I am glad for their varying degrees of success, even while meeting different levels of hardship, because I love and want only good things for them. But to be “proud” would claim responsibility for their success, which I cannot do. There are people close to me who have had adult children who made wrong choices that resulted in incarceration and even death. Those children enjoyed the same benefits that mine did. If I claim credit for my own children’s success, I would be blaming other parents for the failures of their kids, which would be over-the-top inappropriate. That’s why I cringe when I see parents bragging about “pride” in their adult children’s successes, and it’s why you won’t see claims of pride in my kids’ accomplishments on my Facebook page.

That being clarified, I suppose I am proud of the fact that I work hard every day, and that I am not a burden on my family or on society. I am proud of the kind of work I do, and that makes it necessary for this answer to overlap the answers to your good question numbers 15 and 16.

TW: Barbershoppers probably know you best as the energetic performer and lead singer of the Bluegrass Student Union, the 1978 quartet champs of the SPEBSQSA, now known as the Barbershop Harmony Society. What are a few things that folks may NOT know about you?

KH: I can juggle. I discovered as a teenager that I could isolate overtones with my voice, and play tunes with the overtones while holding the same note, simply by changing my mouth opening and tongue position. I speak fluent Spanish. I have not been able to walk farther than a block and a half without resting for ten minutes since 2003. That will likely never change. I didn’t like Irving Berlin when he was alive, and now that he is dead, I still do. Oh yeah, we covered that.

I have worked as a loading dock equipment and industrial doors application-expert on and off since 1986. When I entered the industry, I was sent to a school held by our main factory, which was called KELLEY, inventor and manufacturer of the hinged lip dock leveler, a bridge between the loading dock and the trailer bed. The fellows who taught that school were the same ones who had been around since the invention of the device, in 1953. They had been the first generation of sales persons, who introduced the product to American industry, and they imparted to me their noble mission. Their product had revolutionized the safety and comfort of the loading dock worker, and, along with a later invention by a competitor (the trailer restraint), had saved the lives and limbs of countless people around the world, none of whom realized that they would have died or been maimed without it.

Most businesses provide goods and services that help people in some way. We don’t all get to be astronauts or Supreme Court Justices. Most of us make our contributions to humankind in smaller, less famous ways. On our tombstones, it won’t say, “He laid a lot of brick,” or “She counseled a lot of crazy people.” On mine, it won’t say, “He sold a lot of levelers, restraints and overhead doors, and made sure they were properly installed.” But that is exactly the thing of which I am most proud. Funny how one can attain something akin to immortality by doing a little singing, but the day in and day out saving of lives by most of us who do it goes unnoticed.

When I was a kid, I didn’t imagine growing up to be a dock leveler salesman. The job sort of found me, instead of the other way around. But I developed a keen interest in the product and in applying and installing it correctly. I found that once I embraced the noble motivation, my clients could sense that sincerity. When I get the job, lives are saved, the work area is more comfortable, the customer’s management enjoys the savings that comes with increased productivity, and my commissions take care of themselves. It’s a great business, because my degree of personal fulfillment just happens to be commensurate with the financial rewards. What a great country! I have to believe that unless you are a criminal, or you work in the liquor- or tobacco-industry, your job probably offers similar fulfillment. We are all here to serve each other, and most jobs allow you to do that. I can only hope that it brings you similar rewards.

TW: What’s the next item on your bucket list?

KH: That’s a tough question, because I have had such a great life! I had two marriages that lasted a total of 36 years, and 29 of them were pretty darned good. I loved me some women. I am now divorced and single, and life is really stress-free these days. My three kids are healthy and standing on their own six feet. I have a special relationship with my son, Mike. I always treated him as an equal; not as a child. As a result, he is now my friend, in addition to being my son, which pleases me very much. I enjoy my work, and will never retire, as long as I can walk and think. I have lived many of my dreams, helping the Thoroughbreds to earn four gold medals and some other colors too, winning quartet contests with my three “brothers,” Allen, Danny and Rick, and then going on to join the Suntones-Buffalo Bills-Boston Common-club. I got to direct the Thoroughbreds in competition on several occasions, although it didn’t turn out as well as I had envisioned. I traveled around the world a few times, and got to visit 47 states, most of them multiple times. I directed a chorus across mainland China for four 2-week trips, and coached my way across New Zealand and Australia. I learned how to arrange music, with no formal education, and I sang professionally in jazz clubs with a great accompanist. I became friends and wrote songs with a real award-winning Great American Songbook writer. I met idols, heroes, presidents and other famous people along the way, who all turned out to be regular guys, just like me. My quartet recorded some of the best-selling barbershop-recordings of all time. I recorded a big band album with 33 top musicians that sounds like it belongs on the Sirius Sinatra channel. I wrote a biography about the life of my mentor, Jim Miller. I made a barbershop recording dedicated to my other mentor, Walter Latzko. I made three recordings that honored yet another mentor, Ms. Chilton Price. I wrote original songs and arrangements, and heard them sung by others. On occasion, I even got to perform on the ‘lectric television. Hoo-wee!

I promise you that I have done everything that I wanted to do, and more. I have a few regrets, but owe no amends. There is no bucket-list, but I discovered something else that I enjoy, just this past year. You see, I moved to Alabama five years ago, for my work, and I have no “old friends” here. New friends are nice, but there is nothing like the friends with whom you share some history. I see Allen, Rick and Dan once a year, at a reunion at Allen’s lake house. I hate to think that I might see those guys only a handful (or two) more times before one of us takes a header.

I have other friends around the country, with whom I stay in touch. Still, there are others who I care about deeply, but don’t get to see anymore. Last June, I visited Marjorie Latzko at her home in Lewes Delaware, where she lives, with her daughter, Melanie and her husband and two boys. Marjorie is one of the tenors of the Chordettes, of Mr. Sandman fame, besides being Walter’s devoted wife for over 50 years and one of my dearest friends. After a great three day visit, I took the ferry across Delaware Bay, to Cape May, New Jersey, and drove to Brigantine, where I met with old friend Carol Plum. We took her parents, Ellen and Neal, out to dinner, and enjoyed reminiscing about his quartet, Sound Revival, back in the 70s and 80s.

The next morning, I met pal Jack Pinto, of Old School quartet, for breakfast, and we traveled to New York City, where we had dinner with genius arranger, judge and quartet-man Steve Delehanty and his wife, Connie, along with medalist lead singer Scott Brannon, of the Cincinnati Kids. I enjoyed spending time with these many good friends, and made a new friend, Keith Harris, the barbershopper and professional opera-singer. It took some effort and expense on my part, but this was more fun and fulfilling than going around the world. I did that already, and got paid for it – twice! It couldn’t be as much fun the third time, especially if I’m paying. But this trip was a gas, because I got to see those lovely people one more time.

So, I don’t have a bucket-list of things I want to do and experience. I just want to see my old friends one more time. So, I have already planned my trip for 2018. In February, I will see Todd and Jennifer Wilson, in Nashville, and then hop on a plane to see Holly and Brian Beck in Colorado Springs. With any luck, Bobby Gray and Terri will be available for dinner, and maybe I can sneak in a luncheon with George Davidson, Terry Heltne and Kurt Hutchison in Denver, before visiting old quartet-buddy, Vince Winans and his wife in Salt Lake City. After a couple of days, I will head for Palm Springs, California, to visit former Thoroughbred Jonathan Friedman and his wife, Annabelle, where they will introduce me to their new baby girl, who is to be born next month. Then, it’s on to Oakland, where I will spend a few days watching some of my grandkids play soccer and volleyball.

I might try to visit old pal Greg Lyne, while I am there. He always tries to tell me that the Thoroughbreds should have won that contest in 1990. I like that about him.

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