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supernatural-rewatch-3 · 4 years

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Galaxy Brain

So the fact Chuck actually did what Dean said and went to Earth 2 to start wiping out other worlds is...okay. So we see Earth 2 (my best friend says this would be the universe where Cats was NOT made into a movie) is a little different. Hillary Clinton won the election and Radio Shack is Radio Shed. Chuck comes in and the poor clerk has to put up with him monologue. We see that Chuck’s obsession with Sam and Dean is because they are the ‘originals’ and that while he’s gotten what he wanted from all the others, he can’t get it from them. He likes Sam and Dean because they surprise him, they challenge him. So he decides he needs to focus on the original world and starts destroying the rest.

Meanwhile the boys all get jack started to settle back in the bunker. We see Billie has a reaper keeping tabs on them to ensure Jack doesn’t do anything stupid. Sam is very outspoken about his issues with this. Cas is more willing to go along with it because he trusts Jack’s judgement, despite Jack not having a soul at this time. Dean is more on the fence. Dean knows Billie enough to have faith in her plan, and Dean is trying this whole trust others more thing where he’s going along with their decisions. Sam is against any plan of Billies, and we see it’s mostly because he is still angry over the whole box incident. So while Sam goes to check on Jack, Dean and Cas have a drink together and talk about Jack and God. Then Dean gets a call from Jody who is in need of their help.

Dark Kaia has decided it’s time Dean comes through with his promise last season and help her out. To get the boys attention she goes after Jody...which one chair in the back later she learns was probably not the best method going about that. However when she explains herself they are more apt to listen. Apparently their Kaia has been alive this whole time in the Bad Place and her whole sudden rush to get back is apparently the world is dying. She wants Jack to open a door, but Dean, Sam, and Cas are against that as Jack using his powers would send up a massive flare to Chuck. So instead Dean, Sam, Cas, Jack, and Jody look around the bunker to find another way to get to the Bad Place.

In the end they keep hitting dead ends so Jack decides the hell with it. They black mail the reaper into helping them. Again we see Sam is more outspoken about his objections and Dean is more willing to go along with whatever plan someone comes up with. As they get ready to go, we see Cas and Jody talk. So this is Cas and Jody’s first time meeting in person, which is ridiculous since Cas has been around for 11 years now and Jody 10 but whatever. We see they both understand Claire and want to help her. Jody explains despite how little time Claire was with Kaia, she loved Kaia dearly and has spent the last two years seeking revenge on the one who killed Kaia. Now that they have a chance to get Kaia back, she can’t tell Claire in case they fail. However Cas points out that they can’t risk Jody in getting Kaia back because losing Jody would completely destroy Claire. I do like the reminder of Cas and Claire’s bond that hasn’t really been addressed since Angel Heart.

I also like the in-universe explanation on how a bunker that is supposed to be warded against everything and anything keeps getting invaded. Apparently not only do Sam and Dean never lock the freaking door but Amara stripping off the warding to invade in season 11 damaged it to the point they could never fully repair it. However if Amara was able to strip it so easily was it really that cosmic to begin with?

Anyway, Dean and Sam go with alternate Kaia to the Bad Place after Jody, Cas, and the reaper beef up the warding to temporary hide them from God. Unfortunately as we later learn it wasn’t enough to hide them from Death. They find Kaia and take her back while Dark Kaia decides to stay behind. As she told Jack earlier she only came to their world because it looked safer, but what she found wasn’t what she was expecting. It is a cold strange world that she had no idea how to navigate or adjust to, and even if it means dying she is going to stay in her world because she never belonged there anyway.

When we get back to the bunker, Kaia leaves to live in Jody’s house with Claire, Patience, and Alex while Sam, Dean, Jack, and Cas are confronted with Billie’s wrath. She explains that she has been busy this whole episode due to the massive amount of death being created by God wiping out worlds, which I guess kinda gives us four figures total not bound by any world. God, Amara, the Shadow, and Death. We also learn that in order to make the massive worlds that God had been creating work and be able to function on a set of laws without his presence, he had accidentally built himself into the framework, meaning he is subject to it’s rules. I guess by extension he built Amara in too, since we could seal her away and that she needs to exist to create balance. Death is also built in so I wonder if that means the only being not built in is the Shadow. Anyways Billie also explains that at this time Jack is written in God’s book as the one to kill him and Sam and Dean are written in as the Messenger of God’s destruction. The distinct omition of Cas tells me that just the same with Scobby doo, every time we lay out a fully planed out course of events, nothing is going to do right.

#galaxy brain #supernatural #spn 15x12 #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #castiel #jody mills #alternate kaia nieves #Kaia Nieves #billie #chuck shurley

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breanime · 5 years

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Heartworm (Part Nine)

This chapter is a tad bit short, a lot bit steamy, but there’s also a teeny tiny bit of plot in there! I hope you enjoy, please leave comments!

*gif not mine*

Billy grabbed your face with both hands, deepening the kiss. He pushed you down onto the mattress with his body, pinning you down without breaking the kiss. You could feel the cold metal of the handcuffs against your cheek, and your split lip was still raw, but you didn’t mind.

All you could think about was Billy.

He pulled away suddenly, and you gasped at the sudden loss of his lips against yours.

“I—” he sounded out of breath “—Shit. Y/N, I… I want this. I want this so, so bad,” he licked his lips, the lips that had just been on yours, “But this…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Baby, the path I’m on… It’s gonna get bloody. I can’t drag you into that.”

“Billy,” you sat up, putting your free hand on Billy’s scarred cheek, “I’m with you. No matter what, no matter how bad or bloody it gets, I’m with you Billy. I can’t be without you again.”

He smiled, and you could see the tension drain out of him. “You don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that.” Slowly, he lifted his cuffed hand. “We through with this?”

You stared at your conjoined hands. You wanted to trust him, to trust that you could undo the cuffs without him immediately running off, but…

“Hey,” he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, “I’m here. I’m right here with you, I ain’t going anywhere, okay?” His dark eyes bore into yours. “I promise.”

You felt the tears in your eyes, and you tried in vain to blink them back. “But what if you leave me again?” You asked.

Billy took a breath, disappointed in himself for making you feel insecure, making you think he left you for any other reason besides the fact that he loved you more than anything. “I know what it is that I lost. I had everything I ever wanted… Money, power, purpose, my own company…You. But of those things, the ones I remember and the ones I don’t, the only one that really, actually matters, that I truly give a shit about: is you. The last few days I’ve been running around with my guys, trying to scrounge up some money for you, some cash because… I want—I need to take care of you.” He shrugged. “And if I never get back any of those things, that’s fine. I mean, I want it back, I do, but… I want you more than anything.” He watched the tears finally spill from your eyes and reached up to brush them away. “And I can look into your eyes and see that you want me too, that you mean it when you… When you say that you love me, even after everything I’ve done. So please, Y/N, believe me when I say that I won’t ever leave you again, okay? Because you mean everything to me.”

You leaned forward and kissed Billy, and he hugged you to him. “I love you,” you whispered into his shoulder, “…even though you’re an asshole who lives in a crack den and you’ve been shacking up with another woman.”

Billy laughed—and he sounded so much like himself that the sound only made your heart skip a beat. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d see that there’s nothin’ special about her.” His smile softened as he gazed over at you. “She’s no you.”

“So…What now?” You asked, moving to dig into your purse for the key. “Do… Do you want me to go home?”

Billy watched as you slid the key into the cuffs, twisting his wrist to make it easier for you. “Only if I can come with you.” He smirked as the handcuffs slid off. “There’s still some things we need to talk about.”

You nodded. “Yeah, okay.” Rummaging in your bag once more, you pulled out a black flip phone. “This is for you,” you said, handing it to him, “It’s untraceable.” Billy raised an eyebrow at you. “I got it from a pawn shop. I put my number in it…”

Billy reached out and pulled your head forward by the back of your neck. He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Thank you.” He stood up, holding a hand out for you, and pulled you close to him. His fingers caressed your face softly, stopping at your swollen cheek. “Let’s go.”

A little over an hour later, you sat on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket with a cup of tea in your hands, as Billy took a shower. He brought his black duffel bag with him and had put it on the table for you to look through. There were guns, packs of bullets, knives, and piles of cash in there, along with clothes, a police radio, and some kind of signal jammer. He’d taken a few minutes to check you for injuries when you’d gotten home, making sure to equip you with an ice pack and tea before heading to the shower. You heard the water stop, and you put your cup of tea down on the side table, waiting for him to come back into the living room.

“You heard from Frank?” He asked you as he sat down beside you.

You took in a breath; Billy smelt like pine, and you could feel the heat coming off of him. “No,” you said back, “But I’ve been listening to the police radio and they don’t seem to think he’s even in town…yet.”

“Mm…” Billy leaned back, his arm casually propped up on the back of the couch, fingers slightly brushing against your shoulder. He turned slightly, dark eyes staring into yours. The scars on his face were still slightly jarring for you, but his eyes… His eyes were the same as they were when you were first together, when you were happy and in love—before the money and cars and fancy suits. You could see right to the core of him, the vulnerability and fear and lingering confidence. He licked his lips and smirked when he noticed how intently you were watching him. “You were really trying to find me, huh?” He asked. “The cuffs, the radio,” he raised an eyebrow, “the completely asinine attempt to get my attention…”

“But it worked, didn’t it?” You smirked back, leaning just a tiny bit closer to him.

Billy licked his lips again, and you wanted to bite them. “Y/N,” he said slowly, carefully, “You gotta stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you could just eat me up.”

You tried to keep the smile off of your face. He had no idea how right he was. “Or what?” You challenged.

He smirked, all teeth, and you recognized that special glint in his eyes as he looked you over. “Or I’m gonna let you.” He turned, knees touching yours, and you inhaled his scent. “Because, if I’m being honest…sitting here with you, being here with you… It’s all I can do to keep my hands off of you.” Billy’s eyes bore into yours, simultaneously lustful and dangerous—a mix you could never resist. “You don’t know how bad I want you right now.”

You took a breath. “Billy,” you said, voice low in the empty space of your apartment, “You can have me.”

That was all you needed to say. Billy grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up, holding you in his lap. He kissed you, harsh and hard, and you felt it all the way down to your toes. He fisted one hand in your hair, pulling at the strands as he moved his lips against yours, and you moaned into his mouth when he slipped his tongue into yours. His other hand was on your ass, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. You grinded on top of him, rotating your hips the way he used to like. If the hardness beneath you was any indication; he still liked it…a lot. Billy groaned when your hands found the way to his short hair. You ran your nails down his scalp and felt him shiver underneath you. You grinned, pulling back suddenly, and stripped your shirt off. Billy ripped it off and had it flying across the room in less than five seconds, and you gasped when he buried his head against your chest.

“Shit…” You moaned, closing your eyes and leaning your head back as you felt his warm tongue circle your nipple. His beard brushed against your skin, and you bit your lip as you wiggled on top of him, rubbing yourself against his hard cock.

Billy groaned again, running a hand down your bare back. You heard him mumble something against your chest, but the sensation was too good—you couldn’t focus on anything except for his hot mouth closing around one nipple before moving to the next. The next thing you knew, he was lifting you off of the couch and carrying you, mouth now sucking a hickey onto your neck, to your bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, and you pushed his shirt up, grinning as he pulled it off. You ran your hands over the scars and grooves of his chest before moving down to his abs. Billy watched you intently as you pushed at his pants. You made a whining sound when they didn’t come off right away, and Billy chuckled.

“You first,” he commanded gently.

You laid down on your back and closed your eyes as Billy’s hands went to the waistband of your pants, pulling them down painfully slowly. You groaned, shifting on the bed when you felt two fingers softly graze against your panties. “Billy,” you ground out, hands fisting the sheets at your sides. He only chuckled, continuing to gently run two fingers between your folds, pressing your already wet panties against you. “Billy…” You repeated. You lifted your hips a bit, hoping he’d get the message, but he pushed you back down.

“Look at me.” His voice was steady, but when you opened your eyes to look at him, you could practically see the desire coming off of him. His black eyes were wide and unblinking, and his naked chest was heaving with the effort of controlling himself. Without breaking eye contact, he slid your panties off. His eyes washed over your bare form, and you felt like the most beautiful, important person in the world—and in his eyes, you were. He stared down at you, and you both knew, in that moment, that there was nothing else that mattered in the world except the two of you. “I love you,” he said, locking eyes with you.

“I love you, too,” you whispered. You watched, entranced, as Billy lowered his head and sank between your thighs. He propped himself up on his elbows and slung your leg over his shoulder. You bit your lip when you felt his finger push inside of you, long and slender, and hummed happily when he curled it, putting a little pressure behind the action.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and you could feel the heat of his breath on you, “Baby, you look so good.” He pushed another finger inside you, and your leg started shaking. He rubbed his cheek against it in a soothing gesture. “Want more?” He asked.

“Yes,” you moaned out, “yes, Billy, please.”

“Anything for you, baby,” he said, chuckling lowly. He obliged you happily, and you could hear the sounds of your own wetness as he fingered you faster.

You opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling as he pushed another finger in. You were both breathing heavily now, and you grabbed your breast, squeezing it as you rode his fingers. It felt so good to be with him, to have him touching you again—already you couldn’t imagine how it could get any better.

Then he put his mouth on you, and it got better.

You screamed when Billy’s tongue flicked against your clit; he knew exactly how to eat you out, knew exactly what you liked and how to bring your right to the edge without actually pushing you over it. The combination of his fingers and his tongue was fantastically overwhelming, and you sat up on your elbows to watch him, adding that image to the physical pleasure he was giving you. Billy’s broad shoulders moved in time with his tongue, and you could see the way he was gripping your hip, keeping you in place. You reached down and put a hand on his head, your other hand still gripping your breast—still wet from his mouth—as he went down on you. It was too much, too good, too stimulating. You couldn’t take the incredible pleasure anymore. “There!” You screamed. “There, right there, Billy! Please!” Your eyes squeezed shut, and Billy took you right over the edge, right where you wanted to be. You came on his tongue, legs shaking as you called his name over and over.

He was staring at you when you came back down; a look of complete adoration on his face. He licked his lips, slower than before, chasing the taste of you. Your eyes went to the tent in his pants, and he smiled when he saw you looking.

“Pants,” you panted, making grabby-hands at him.

Billy chuckled and moved to follow your brief demand. “Condoms?” He asked, voice husky and deep.

“Drawer,” you answered, watching him slid his pants off, the sight of his cock literally making you weak, “But lemme suck you off first.”

Billy shook his head, stroking his cock. You clenched your thighs as you watched him. “Can’t,” he huffed out, breathing heavily as he opened up the bedside drawer, “I want to make this good for you, sweetheart, and I know if you put those perfect lips on my dick, I’ll cum quick.” He watched you watch him slide the condom on. “Open your legs, baby.”

You spread your legs happily, and Billy crawled on top of you. He kissed you, and you leaned into it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I love you,” you said, mouth still on his, “I love you so much, Billy.”

He kissed you, saying the words back without saying them. He stared into your eyes, and you got lost in the flurry of emotions in them. Slowly, carefully, he positioned himself at your entrance, and you felt your heart flutter in excitement. He slid into you, and your mouth fell open in a silent shout of ecstasy. It had been a long, long time since you’d last been with anyone, and even longer since you’d been with Billy. You almost forgot how big he was, how naturally he was able to please you—but you were reminded of it now. Billy rocked against you, cock hitting you in all the right places, while his hands roamed up and down your body, appreciating and giving attention to every last curve. You never felt more valuable, more precious, than when you were locked in Billy’s embrace. You were reduced to a mess of moans and sighs as he made love to you, and he met every one of your utterances with a groan of his own. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and Billy picked up the pace, going from slow and careful to hard and fast.

“Yes,” you whispered, biting into his shoulder, “yes, yes, yes!”

“Shit,” he groaned, hips slamming into yours, “Goddamn—I’m gonna cum!” He slipped a hand between you, and you cried out when you felt his fingers ghost against your clit. “Cum for me, baby,” he hissed, teeth clenched as he pounded into you, “I wanna feel that pussy cum.”

Your body responded immediately, and your climax hit you hard. Billy came with you, and you gasped as you felt him twitch inside of you. You scratched at his back, calling his name, as wave after wave of pleasure hit you, and you shuddered in his embrace.

“Fuck,” he whispered, smiling against your mouth, “I missed this.”

“Mm hmm,” you agreed, drowsy and happy, “me too.”

Billy chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling out. “Hold on, sweetheart.” You closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of Billy’s footsteps. He moved around the house—checking the locks, you were sure—before returning to bed. He picked you up and laid you under the covers, climbing in next to you. Carefully, as if you were made of glass, Billy pulled you to him, nuzzling against you as he held you in his arms. He kissed your forehead, then your nose, and then your lips. His eyes were soft and unguarded as he gazed down at you. “I have to ask you something.”

You blinked back the drowsiness and nodded. “Okay…?”

“I… Are you sure about this? About us?” He asked, nervousness clear in his voice. “…About me? Because,” he went on before you could answer, “if you want me to go, I will, but…” His eyes turned hard, and you saw a flash of his old self in them. “If you let me stay, this is it. It’s us against the world, fuck everyone else. If you let me stay here, with you, tonight, Y/N, there ain’t no going back. You’re mine.”

You sat up a bit, so he could see the same intensity embedded in his words mirrored in your eyes. “This is it,” you agreed, “I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

He nodded, and laid down again, bringing you with him. You laid your head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. You were exactly where you needed to be, and so was he. You both lay there silently, happy just to be with one another, for a long stretch of time. Your eyes were getting heavy, but you didn’t want to fall asleep, didn’t want to miss a second of being with him.

“Go to sleep, baby,” Billy said, voice clear in the dark, “I promise I’ll be here in the morning.” He kissed your forehead. “I ain’t never gonna leave you again.”

You nodded, cuddling in closer to Billy, and let yourself fall asleep. There was still a lot that you two needed to discuss, still a lot of questions and doubts swirling around in your head, but none of that mattered to you. All that mattered, all that would ever matter to you, was Billy Russo. And he was right: there was no turning back now, you were in it. You weren’t going anywhere, and neither was he. If Billy was going to prison, you were going to prison. If Billy was going to commit crimes, kill, betray—then so were you. If he was going to die…you hoped you would die first. You were in it. There was nothing left to say about that. The only question now was where would you go from here? Frank was a huge threat, but the cops and Feds were a problem as well. You felt Billy press another kiss to your forehead, and you smiled against his chest. Those were all tomorrow’s problems, tonight, you would enjoy being in the arms of the man you loved…

…because tomorrow wasn’t promised.

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So what do you think? How do you feel the story is going? We’re almost to the part that I’ve been REALLY excited to write, so please comment if you liked this part. Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @floralpeaceofmind @delicatelilyflower@dylanobrusso@ladyblablabla@banditthewriter @something-tofightfor@starsfragments@blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme@hisgirlwednesdayaddams@fictionwillneverdie @maria-beretta @sadnessxvodka@ymariejp @sunnycolors @moonlightsay @its-all-o-kay @damagelove @keyeluh @itsmylife98 @funerals-with-cake@littlemermaidprobz@teacuplotus @king4thesirens@mrsjaxtellerfan@thebabblingbook @tartelette-aux-fraises @madamrogers @charlylama @iaintnofurry@k-buggz2001@whitewolfslittlesilverfox @drinix @elanor-of-imladris @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @julliiaaq@holamor @ymariejp@shadowhunterscloset@songtoyou @anabella-baby @sssilverssserpent @heyitslexy @luminex3@sithskywalkers

#billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #heartworm #the punisher

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years

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AMBUSH BUG #1-4 JUNE - SEPTEMBER 1985 BY KEITH GIFFEN, ROBERT LOREN FLEMING, BOB OKSNER AND ANTHONY TOLLIN

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

The story begins with a giant alien space ship about to invade Earth, everyone is in a panic! But wait, wait, no, it's all a marketing plot to get people to buy Ambush Bug #1 and it works as the first issue sells out. Meanwhile, at the Ambush Bug Detective Agency, Ambush Bug is surprised when his old psychiatrist Derwood Denton stands up for him on national television. Just then a garbage truck hits a bump and one of it's contents falls out and smashes through Ambush Bug's windows. Investigating, he finds a toy doll with big cheeks, thinking it's a real live boy, Ambush Bug decides to adopt it and make it his ward and sidekick, naming it Cheeks the Toy Wonder. The Bug then dresses himself and Cheeks up in super-hero costumes and go about the city looking for crimes to bust.

While at a warehouse, a group of terrorists who are against Democrats have taken their grandmother hostage (She did vote for Jimmy Carter..) and plan on blowing up the warehouse (which is full of a lethal nerve gas) and the police have the place surrounded. When Ambush Bug spots the scene, he decides to try and save the day. As the Bug secrets himself into the building the police are informed that the terrorists have bungled and got the wrong warehouse.

Inside, Ambush Bug manages to throw off the criminals and confuse them by using Cheeks as a decoy. When the leader of the terrorists realizes that he is afraid of a doll he kicks Cheeks aside making of his button eyes fall off. Furious, Ambush Bug chases the ring-leader to a sporting goods store where he beats him up with a baseball bat. As Ambush Bug defeats the last of the terrorists and saves the grandmother, he leaves Cheeks behind to defuse the bomb. Of course, Cheeks is just a doll and so the bomb goes off "killing" Cheeks.

Just then, the story is interrupted by Peabody, Dicker and Pending who are revealing a new line of Ambush Bug promotional items for the consumer: The Ambush Bug Aerobics Physical Fitness Work Out Book for People, An Ambush Bug data sheet, Late Night: A horror novel by Ambush Bug, and a funny strip called Little Bug (wherein a child Ambush Bug is looking forward to Nuclear fallout, but then has to spend the next day shoveling it out of his mothers driveway.)

Getting back to the story, Ambush Bug turns over the terrorists to the authorities, and then holds a funeral for Cheeks. In mourning, Ambush Bug is then visited by his Guardian Angel who gives him words of advice: dead super-heroes sell comic books. Reinvigorated and excited about he success of his first issue, Ambush Bug decides to celebrate the death of his sidekick by ordering a pizza, and walks back home thinking up various euphemisms to get over the loss of Cheeks.

When he gets home, Ambush Bug is shocked to find Darkseid is waiting for him in his apartment.

Our story begins in the apartment of Jonni DC, keeper of continuity in the DC Comics Universe, she is not impressed when a during radio report about the latest exploits of Mr. Mxyzptlk, they call him Mr. Mxyztplk (his Earth-Two counterpart), it's just another day in the life of the keeper of continuity.

Meanwhile, a desperate janitor seeks the services of Ambush Bug and interrupts the Bug while he is taking a shower. The janitor tells the Bug that he worked in the cuteness wing of the Paddywac science lab. There, scientist Quentin Quantis was trying to isolate the cause of cuteness, using Koala's as a source to extract it from. Isolating the enzyme, he ingested it and slowly became Quantis, a giant Koala who walks like a man! Just as this bit of exposition is done, Quantis' foot smashes through the roof of Ambush Bug's office killing the janitor. Ambush Bug decides to do something about it, bit first an intermission.... The reader is shown the results of the "1985 Gnatty Dresser Awards" showcasing Ambush Bug in different outfits, and then presented with The Ambush Bug Guide to Collecting Comics.

Back to the story... As Quantis rampages through Metropolis, the creature draws the attention of Jonni DC, who changes into keeper of continuity form and tries to stop Quantis because he will mess up continuity. However, she is no match for the creatures cute sneezes and Quantis attempts to play golf with her. However, this development of the plot is far too absurd for DC Comics Editor Julius Schwartz and he has Keith Giffen and Bob Flemming pull it from the story.

With the police ineffective against Quantis, Ambush Bug tries his hand at trying to stop the creature with minimal success and ends up being swallowed by the cute terror. Inside the creatures stomach, Ambush Bug meets Dr. Bagel and his wife who were eaten by Quantis earlier. They tell Ambush Bug of an antidote back at the lab, and the Bug teleports out of there to get it.

Ambush Bug then gets the antidote, but before he can administer it Giffen and Flemming cut back to Quantis trying to play golf again with Jonni DC much to Schwartz's annoyance. When the story gets back on track, Ambush Bug administers the antidote turning Quantis back into his human form, and he is knocked out by Jonni DC (who was finally hit by that damn golf playing Quantis -- Hey, did you expect this story to make sense or what?) With Quantis defeated, Ambush Bug decides to go get some fast food, and is horrified to find that the person serving him is none other than.... Darkseid!

Ambush Bug decides to take this issue to give the reader his own tour of the DC Comics Universe, taking time to point out some of the more forgettable character of Pre-Crisis DC Universe. He reminds us of Egg Fu's appearances in Wonder Woman, and the forgettable Wonder Tot character. He then begins a detective mystery trying to find out where certain characters in the DC Universe had gone, starting with Binky. He interrogates some of his friends and colleagues and learns that he possibly ran off with a girl from Earth-Two. He later reminds us of Super-Turtle and the very annoying Aquaman back-up character Quisp and informs us of their mysterious disappearances.

We're next shown two actors (Hembeck style) pretending to be readers of Ambush Bug hoping to learn Ambush Bug's secret origin in this issue, however Ambush Bug calls them on their true roles and goes back to the his investigation. He writes an ode to the Super-Pets Krypto and Streaky to the tune of popular songs, and then takes a moment to have a laugh about Super-Monkey and Comet's convoluted storyline. After meeting with the Green Team, Ambush Bug then writers a report about Cheeks and Itty, the Green Lantern's embarrassing and thankfully short lived animal side kick. Ambush Bug next meets with Bat-Mite who complains about the sudden changes in Batman's character from the campy caped crusader to the gritty dark knight with a reaaaalllly long cape. Ambush Bug is surprised that Bat-Mite has shacked up with Star-Mite instead of Batgirl-Mite.

The story is interrupted with an intermission where we are given a science lesson about Superman's powers, a feature called "Ambush Bug Around the World" and a "How to Draw Ambush Bug" with a great teriyaki burger recipe, a "What If" about if the deadline couldn't be met how the story would go if another writer took over (such as Jack Kirby, Ernie Colon, Frank Miller, Steve Ditko, and Gil Kane), and a order form from the Ambush Bug Mart.

Continuing his quest to find missing DC character, he wonders about what happened to Cyrll and Doodles Duck, and learns that the House of Mystery has been put up for sale. After his search is interrupted by the Inferior Five calling Ambush Bug on the fact that they ripped off their concept, the Bug laughs about Ace the Bat-Hound, and makes a comment about Julius Schwartz, and when Schwartz wants a fight scene, Ambush Bug is only happy to comply and give people an instruction on how to draw comics in a grid.

Back to the story, we learn that Mopee an obscure Flash character who claimed to be responsible for the Flash getting his powers is also taking credit for having a hand in every popular DC characters origins. After a visit to Bizarro World where Bizarro Ambush Bug is tormented, Ambush Bug muses about the Glob and finally learns the culprit to all these disappearances: Jonni DC, who's job it is to clean up DC community, however she is incinerated by.... Darkseid!

After a brief introduction into the Ambush Bug family where we meet Ambush Bug's family, which apparently consists of real ambush bugs, we cut a local police precinct in Metropolis. Here the villain known as Scabbard comes back from the dead and reclaims his head, which is being used by a police officer as an ashtray. Scabbard then goes off to get revenge against his foe Thriller. Scabbard instead runs into Ambush Bug, who is out for sushi, and frightening all the customers with his disgusting stories.

With everyone afraid to confront Scabbard, and with the villain hopelessly lost, Ambush Bug decides to take him on, but first reads up on Scabbard by reading a back issue of the comic "Thriller". Dawning a crude fencing costume, Ambush Bug battles Scabbard (with artist assists from Keith Giffen's son) eventually Scabbard realizes that he's in the wrong comic book, stops the fight, apologizes and walks away from a confused Ambush Bug.

Realizing that they have more pages to do for this issue, the Ambush Bug creative team panic to come up with ideas on how to keep readers hooked. The best they can come up with is the "Death of Ambush Bug" however, the Bug refuses to participate in such a pathetic attempt to boost sales. Coming up with a new idea, the plot progresses...

While doing laundry, Ambush Bug notices that one of his socks is missing and thus begins a search to find this and other missing socks. He eventually stumbles upon a conspiracy orchestrated by Argh!yle, an animated sock that apparently came from the same space ship that was bitten by a radioactive space spider and contained Ambush Bug's uniform. The sock's pair being destroyed in a crash, and it gaining sentience from the radiation, the sock soon found itself abandoned and lonely. Hitting rock bottom finding solace in bing drinking until it was savagely attacked by a cat. Surviving and creating an iron mask, the sock, now calling itself Argh!yle, had built a giant bureau in space and began to use advanced technology to reanimate odd socks and recruit them in an army to get revenge against Ambush Bug.

Sending his minions after the Bug, they capture him and bring him aboard the bureau, where they use the device the "Balluptatron" to twist Ambush Bug up into a ball and launch him back to Earth. It doesn't kill him, but boy was it embarrassing. After a brief interruption to see the Ambush Bug family tree and a pin-up of Starfire, Ambush Bug throws a wrap party to celebrate the final issue of his first mini-series. He reveals to the reader that it wasn't Darkseid that was used as a cliffhanger each issue, but an inflatable replica.

REVIEW

Ambush Bug is always an unexpected reading. Full with meta-jokes about comic-books and DC comics. But it doesn’t stop there, it also manages to insert some political “absurd” humor.

It helps a lot to read titles where Giffen and Loren Fleming were involved. Most obviously “Thriller” which I couldn’t finish reading because it was to hard to read. Well, they trash that title over and over in each issue. And the Darkseid insert is a joke about the Great Darkness Saga, and how Darkseid was teased and postponed until the last issue.

It also makes fun about dead sidekicks bringing money to the publishers... and this was before the death of Jason Todd! (the cemetery is named Barnes, after Bucky).

It has hilarious moments, like Cheeks not being able to diffuse a bomb. It’s comedy gold.

Even the letterer has some fun with the captions. It seems like this was a full-team contribution.

I give this story a score of 10

#dc comics #comics #review #keith giffen #bob oksner #ambush bug #jonni dc #cheeks #darkseid #1985 #modern age #humor

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prorevenge · 6 years

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Manager from hell gets what she deserved!

TL;DR at the bottom. Story is from 11 years ago. So if I get a few details mixed up, please pardon that. English is my second language, so might make grammatical/structural errors. Please do forgive that as well.

It was late 2007 and I had just gotten a part time job offer in your neighborhood electronic (and now defunct) store named RS (Shortcut for something that had Radio in the beginning and Shack in the end). I was a college kid and about a few months before, I had a knee surgery which forced me to quite my previous part-time job. So when I joined RS, I was told that aside from extremely rare circumstances of when I may have to fetch a thing or two from the back room or basement, my Job was to "Sell". I was a Sells Associate/Customer Assistance. And we had one or two Stock person(s) whose sole job was to stock the shelf, fetch the merchandise, etc. Then the store management; those are salaried employees.

For us, the sells associates, we would get paid by the hour and it was ABSOLUTELY the minimum wage. But if you sell RS branded accessories, then we would get something like maybe 5 percent of the selling price ( do not recall exact amount; been more than 11 years now). And when we sold brand new cellphones, we would get 20 or 25 Dollars per NEW account. 10 Dollars for additional line on that. And if we upgraded (re-locked the contract for another 2 years), we would get 10 dollars for that account (can be one line or can be more than one). This extra parentage was called "Spiff". The Stock person is supposed to be paid little bit more than the minimum salaries and that's about it. All of us were trained weekly to sell "Addons". And the better Seller you are, the more money you can make.

Since when I joined the store, I was required to spend my own money to buy the color combination clothes that the corporate office decided for the season. One time it was Red Shirt and Black pants. Another time it was Black Shirt and gray pants. etc. And since your clothes has to be presentable, that means buy two of each at least! With your own money!!

Few days after I joined, I get to know that the Stock person is friend/relative of the manager. So, he gets to seat down in the back room "For Training" while we have to Fetch the merchandise that we sell! As I mentioned earlier, I had a knee surgery not even two months earlier. And this Stores' back room had a cage that only contained Cellphones and GPS, while TV, stereo, speakers and other accessories were in the basement. If we sell TV or any big ticket item, we get nothing! But if we sell batteries for that Remote, Power Strip, Antenna etc. we get about 5 percent! So since our Stock person was "Occupied", we had to get those items from the Basement. As you can imagine, was not the most pleasant thing to do with a still bandaged leg. Not to mention, that was not in the Sells Associates' job description.

Our manager, let's call her B!tchelle, made a new rule, since we are clearly making lot more money as a Sells associates than a Stock person, now we have to share our Spiff equally with the stock person on duty! While we are selling and ask this Stock person to get us the item, he would tell us to get it ourselves. We had to do so, to be able to complete the transaction and not fight in front of the customer. And all while we are giving him the equal share of our spiff! Nice!

Now, whenever new stock deliveries are made, it was generally the Management team (salaried person) and the Stock persons' job to stock them up or place them in the basement or in the cage. But B!tchelle had better ideas! Told us, "If you are going to work here, then you will have to replenish the entire store at the end of the day! If the delivery trucks comes, you HAVE to sort them and place them in the stockroom yourself! Or else, you will be fired!"

Now, keep in mind that I am still a full time college student and also have family responsibilities to attend to. And my part time job was supposed to be no more than 20 hours! She made me come at 4 PM and sign out at 8 PM, for 5 days. Signing out does not mean you are done! It means you will only get paid for the time of 4 PM to 8 PM. And then, you MUST tidy up the place, restock the shelf, vacuum, throw the trash, and if the deliveries are coming (it was 2 days a week AT LEAST), boy it's your lucky day! Because if the truck comes AFTER 10 PM, you get all the joy and happiness of taking care of it sometimes beyond 1 AM in the morning! When it was during Black Fridays.. I remember leaving the place at 5:30AM (Came in at 4 PM the day before, "WORKED" until 8 PM, and then stock up for Black Friday Sale) only to come back 2 and half hours later at 8 AM and work UNTIL 1 AM the next day! That day she instituted a new rule only for that Black Friday, ONLY sell Big ticket item to boost the stores' numbers! A contest was going on from the corporate office, Store Manager with highest sell per district would get a huge bonus and some other perks. She expressly told us not to sell any accessories (although that was what we made our money on). Now, even on a Black Friday Sale, if you sell a TV, someone would want batteries or antennas for it, right? I ended up accumulating lots of money that are supposed to be my Spiff! And besides, I was extremely good at Sell (and there were times when someone came in for just 2 AA batteries only and I ended up selling him about 4K worth of merchandise). But she ended up denying all of us that spiff "since she told us not to sell that and only sell big ticket items". She only paid us for 8 hours worth of work per person.

This kept on going for a while, when B!tchelle would go have extended lunch, had to maintain a padi/manicure, hair appointments, clothes shopping, etc for professional outlook and betterment of the business; while in business hours. From time to time, phones from the cage (which she and ONLY the shift manager would have keys to) would go missing.

Right before my first MidTerm exam, my uncle had a heart attack and I had to fly to Montreal for 72 hours to see him. Of course I let B!tchelle know. the whole time I was in Montreal, I could not sleep for a second and the day I come back, Our flight lands at 10 AM, my exam was at 1 PM to 3 PM. I had told B!tchelle that I won't work that day since I would have exams right after I land. I run to my college to take my exam, while I get calls after calls from B!tchelle that I need to show up to work that day since the Stock person is sick and I had to help with the delivery truck! Or else I am fired! I finish my exam at 3 PM, run to the store before 4 PM, get dressed and "WORK" till 8 PM. That day I work until 12:30AM, midnight! At this point, I have not slept for more than 80 hours (Ok maybe slept an hour or two in between, but you can understand when you are visiting a relative who is having an emergency surgery, how much sleep you can get) and I was dying to sleep! (That job is the reason I got a Redbull and 5Hour energy drink addiction). All while I had a vicious and painful popped ear from flight that lasted for more than 3 days.

That was the last straw! The next day, I slept for more than 12 hours. Go to work. And the following day, "Someone (AHEM AHEM)" called in State Labor department with all these allegations of forced labor, no pay, stolen items, etc. Department of Labor then contacts RS corporate office and two days later, I see B!tchelle crying hysterically and packing her stuff. Apparently the Corporate office instead of confronting the situation, they chose to fire her. And B!tchelle is asking us to make calls and write letters on her behalf to say that those allegations are not true! Her friend (the Stock person) told her on her face, "Told you to tone it down with your employees! But you wouldn't listen!"

She leaves!

Month or two later, a guy walks in, says he is a Manager of some bigger electronic store and someone ( B!tchelle of course!) just joined in his store as a assistant manager. He is just curious and took it upon himself to find out how good was B!tchelle as a manager.

I buy him coffee that day and spend about half an hour with him in the nearest Dunkin Donuts! After that, I hear she was trying to get unemployment!

After that we had a chilled up manager who was an awesome person! Loved him! But month or two later, I found a job (While still in college) in my field and ran to it!

TL;DR: Manager from Hell gets what she deserves!! Overwork, underpay, steal from the store and makes our lives miserable.

(source) (story by bebgaltiger18)

#prorevenge #by bebgaltiger18 #pro revenge stories #revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #last10

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lpwarwick · 5 years

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It is spectacular and unsurprising that Captain Marvel, a vivid action-adventure centered on the rise of Carol Danvers, is the first film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe led by a female superhero. The old and stubbornly held Hollywood belief that a superhero movie starring a woman would flop was bolstered by some painful evidence: the critical and financial failures of Supergirl (1984), Tank Girl (1995), Catwoman (2004), and Elektra (2005). Enter Wonder Woman in 2017, a triumph by every measure for DC and Warner Bros., and the conversation shifted. Studios and audiences began to wonder: What if other female superhero films had failed not because of a lack of audience interest in the leads, or even a lack of demand, but because the films themselves were shoddily written, acted, directed, and marketed? Build a good movie, it turns out, and fans will come.

Thankfully, Captain Marvel is a good movie, both because and notwithstanding the fact that the lead is a tough, multifaceted woman. Codirectors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck (Half Nelson, It's Kind of a Funny Story), who also cowrote the screenplay with Geneva Robertson-Dworet, understand that resilience more than physical strength is their heroine's superpower. Repeatedly, she falls down. Repeatedly, she stands up. The feelings roused by this age-old perseverance story are universal; the position of Carol as a woman surrounded by male fighters, however, intensifies her underdog status and raises the stakes of an otherwise conventional hero's journey. Not only are powerful forces in the galaxy hell-bent on her destruction, but the men in her life are quick to belittle her when she dares to do what they can do, and better.

Carol, played with grit and verve by Oscar winner Brie Larson, can't remember who she is. For six years she has lived on the planet Hala as a Kree warrior named Vers, fighting green aliens called Skrulls across the universe, with only flashes of memories that point to who she might have been before: a scrappy child disparaged by her father, an unshrinking fighter pilot in the U.S. Air Force, and a devoted friend of other valorous women. But the Kree leader of her Starforce team, Yon-Rogg (Jude Law), discourages her from investigating her emotional cosmology. You're too emotional, he tells her—a jibe most women are used to hearing. Think with your head, not your heart, he says. Sensitivity is weakness. Your feelings will betray you.

Captain Marvel is in many ways a paean to empathy and intuition, qualities commonly associated with women but beneficial to anyone willing to tap into themselves. Yon-Rogg tells Vers a story about herself that on the surface she believes, but deep down, she questions. Self-knowledge is rare, especially among women for whom entire industries are built to eradicate their confidence and convince them they should be more like someone else. Gaslighting, typically perpetrated by men who want to control women under the guise of mental superiority—"She's crazy" is one common refrain—is another tactic with which many women are uncomfortably familiar. Vers, who feels against reason that she is not who her superior claims her to be, represents every woman and girl who was told at some point to be someone unlike herself. In addition to learning her true name and identity, Carol discovers over the course of the movie that she does know and like herself. She is compassionate, moral, ambitious, sarcastic, and, yes, emotional. Her weakness, paradoxically, was believing that suppressing these parts of herself would make her strong.

This is the movie's radiant core, while the rest of it—like the majority of MCU stand-alone romps—is unselfconscious, action-packed fun. Set in 1995, the narrative accelerates when Carol crash-lands through the roof of a Blockbuster Video in Los Angeles, where young agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Nick Fury and Phil Coulson (digitally de-aged Samuel L. Jackson and Clark Gregg, respectively) find her chasing down a cadre of shape-shifting Skrulls. Carol and Fury unite in unlikely friendship, with the latter helping the former track down the remnants of her previous life on earth. From his first appearance as Fury in Iron Man (2008), Jackson has been a central and beloved figure in the MCU; his presence here, pre-eye patch, is delightful. Annette Bening also shines as a rugged mentor from Carol's test-pilot days; she appears in visions as someone Carol used to find impressive, though she can't recall why.

Similar to the way 1970s music and references fueled Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), 1990s pop culture infuses Captain Marvel with nostalgic quirks. Carol visits a Radio Shack in a strip mall with walls papered in Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness posters. Later, she lifts an outfit from a mannequin that Fury deems "grunge": leather jacket, flannel, jeans, and a Nine Inch Nails T-shirt. Mid-90s jams punctuate the soundtrack: "Just a Girl," "Come As You Are," "You Gotta Be," and "Celebrity Skin," to name a few. Troll dolls and True Lies sneak into the periphery. A CD-ROM carrying valuable information takes an interminable amount of time to load.

These playful touches, along with plenty of in-jokes and Easter eggs for the MCU cognoscenti, are the sprinkles on top of an already satisfying treat. Though less substantial than last year's Black Panther and probably less intense than the upcoming Avengers: Endgame, Captain Marvel is strong at its center. Carol Danvers, aka Captain Marvel, is a formidable force and a welcome addition to the MCU. Her debut also evinces a radical truth: that the qualities "emotional" and "powerful" can be synonymous

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cecilspeaks · 6 years

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123 - A Story of Love and Horror, part 3: “Frances”

Who was that whistling, whistling in the dark? Was that you, my love, whistling, whistling in the dark? Welcome to Night Vale.

Frances Donaldson and Nazr al-Mujaheed were faced with a terrible choice. There are times, as humans, it feels like we are given more responsibility than we can handle. It feels as though the world is resting on our backs. And any decision we make could have implications for everyone else in the entire world. But of course, that’s not really the case. The truth is, while we might be able to ruin our own lives, or even a whole bunch of people’s lives, there are few who are ever put in the position where they can make even a ripple in the life of everyone on Earth.

But this was exactly the situation Frances and Nazr found themselves in. She had accidentally entered this Night Vale from a Night Vale in a different universe. If Nazr and Frances stayed together, the two of them could both phase out of reality and cease to exist. A powerful entity, the Brown Stone Spire, could make it so they could stay together safely, but only by destroying the universe she came from, and every person in it. There was no path forward for their love that did not end in horror. There was no path forward without horror that did not end their love.

“It’s clear what we have to do,” said Nazr sadly. “No two people are worth so many lives. We must go our separate ways.” Already he could see the long evenings alone in his office, watching tapes of football plays and trying to recapture the innocent happiness he used to feel doing his job. “It’s clear to you because you have other options,” said Frances. “You’re from this world, and you could find another to love. “I wouldn’t,” tried Nazr, but predictions like this can never carry the weight of truth, because who can predict the heart?” “You will find someone else,” she said. “And me, I will have to live alone forever or risk my own existence and the existence of everyone I entangled myself with. Can I even have close friendships or would those too result in an unraveling? Certainly I would be afraid to risk it, and in that fear I would settle into a bleak loneliness.” He shook his head. “So what are you saying? That we should murder a universe of living beings?” “I’m saying,” she said, “that I love you, and I’d like to proceed from there.” After this argument, they didn’t talk or see each other for a few days. Both of them felt completely overwhelmed by the weight of the decision. Both of them pretended it was a settled question for themselves.

And now corrections. Despite previous reports, the ineffable isn’t real. It’s a joke, a trace. A sandwich left on a park bench. A misunderstood smile from an unfriendly crowd. The accidental arrangement of the sky. The distance from the Earth to the moon. The way grass feels when it gets a little dry. A hand reaching blindly into a drawer. A word spoken once and never again said aloud. A dream which seemed prophetic, but evaporated upon waking. A stain in a shirt that’s source is a mystery. A bird with three missing feathers. A math problem with no possible solution. A signpost to a place which never existed. It’s a trace, a joke. The ineffable isn’t real. We apologize for our previous mistaken report.

During the days apart, Frances and Nazr were not alone. They were not alone first in ways that were mundane and expected. For instance, Nazr had his team, and while he was distracted and morose, he was also determined not to let this affect the chances of his good kids. And so he forced himself to double his efforts when it came to practices. And if any of the team members of faculty thought anything about his behavior during this time, it was that he seemed especially dedicated and focused. And so therefor his relationship must be benefiting him.

Frances had her customers. And while an antique store doesn’t usually bustle, it does have a steady stream. And the goal is to sell a few high-end items a day, along with a good amount of cheap trinkets, so that it all evens out, and she would have enough money to eat for another month. She had friends, too, except now she felt they weren’t her friends. Her friends were back in another universe and the people here looked like her friends, but did not share exactly the same experiences this Frances remembered. She didn’t know if this should matter but felt that it did, and so avoided her friends. Her friends when they talked, thought she must be so focused on her happy relationship that she no longer had time for them, and they felt resentment. They did not resent her personally, but rather resented the situation.

But Frances and Nazr were not alone in a more malevolent way as well. Every evening, Barks Ennui visited each of them. Frances no matter where she went would find him sitting next to her. He would sigh. “Frances!” he would say softly. “Frances!” The voice was almost kind, but his eyes were pivoted toward her unnaturally, giant 2-D sources on a 3-dimensional yellow snout. “Frances, oh Frances,” he would murmur until she slept or thought she slept. He was less gentle with Nazr. With Nazr, he screamed. No words, merely a high keening in the living room as Nazr tried to watch game tapes, or in the bathroom as he washed his teeth. First a mundane quiet and then suddenly a huge dog screaming, cartoon eyes and cartoon mouth both gaping in terror. Why was Barks afraid? He was the specter who was haunting Nazr, but Barks was afraid. This made Nazr even more afraid. “Stop screaming!” he would scream back, but Barks didn’t seem to hear.

And now sports news. Now I’m a big fan of Night Vale football, because I love our town, and our kids who are out there playing, and our fabulous coaching staff. But to be honest, I’m often a little shaky on how the sport works, so I thought I’d try a little experiment. I will now attempt, without looking up anything or consulting anyone lese, to explain the rules of football form memory. Let’s see, the kids enter the field. Uh, there’s a lot of them, they’re all padded up and ready. Uh, “hoorah” they say, and others shout: “let’s get the football!” They are there to get the football. They line up facing each other, uh someone shouts some numbers that they like, in order to get them in a happy headspace before starting the game, and then the football is thrown weird. It could be thrown much easier, but they throw it in a weird way. The quarterback catches the ball, mostly, uh sometimes they miss and that’s a foul. But if they catch it, then they try to sneak it down the field. The ball needs to get going, but no one can know the team is doing it, and so they try to act nonchalant. Oh, and also the slam dance with the other team in order to show that they’re only there to party. And no football is going down the field, mm mm, no way. [whispers] But it is!

The other team figures this out and jumps at the football. Eventually, the football is carried to what is called the “end zone”, because it’s a zone at the end of the field. There it transforms from a leather bag into a victory. There is more dancing, uh you know football is mostly about dancing. There’s some other stuff like sometimes it turns into soccer for a little bit and they bring on a soccer player to do that, but mostly it’s about dancing and sneaking, which are two of my favorite activities. Wow! No wonder I love football. This has been sports news.

Nazr and Frances made the night as romantic as they could. They lit candles, because the risk of house fires is of course very romantic. They had flowers on the table, because the reminder of how plants grow is considered a great aphrodisiac among people who get really revved up about plants. Neither Nazr or Frances were one of those people, but still, it couldn’t hurt. “It’s not too late,” she said. “We could still be together.” This didn’t help the romantic mood. “We couldn’t,” he said. “What would we become if we caused so much loss, just for our own petty happiness?” “Is that what this is?” she said. “Petty?” “No,” he said, “it’s just… what isn’t petty against the span of all of it?” “To me,” she said, “You aren’t. You aren’t.” But he could not be persuaded. She gave up and instead, she kissed him. He had never felt such a kiss, because he had never before kissed anyone out of a quiet and desperate grief. I don’t recommend that context to any of my listeners, but it does make for one hell of a kiss.

Then she left his house. Nazr sat all night with the decision they had made. It was the correct decision. But if that was true, then why did he feel so completely like a person buried under rocks or locked into a cell with no light for months? He felt as though he would never take another free breath of air. There was no longer an other version of himself in his home, but it also felt to him that perhaps there was no one in his home. That the version of himself that was a human being existed only in the past tense, and from here on out, there was only this quotation of Nazr. And out of context excerpt stripped of meaning.

He stood for a while before walking down to his car and pulling it out of the garage. It was almost morning. The Radio Shack wasn’t open and packed with technology-craving customers yet, so he parked there and walked the rest of the way up to the humming Spire. He fell to his knees. This wasn’t his decision to make, but he had already made the decision. “Brown Stone Spire,” he said. “I’ve made my choice. Destroy the other universe. I have to be with her, no matter what.” The Spire did not reply. “Please,” he shouted. He slapped his palms against the hard packed earth again and again until they stung. “Please, I’ve decided! Destroy the other universe!” The Spire hummed to life. “It is done,” said a voice from deep in its core. Nazr, murderer of billions, walked away slowly toward his car.

The ending of our story coming up. But hey, let’s check in on today’s weather.

[“Pieces and Pieces” by The Rough and Tumble]

At first, Nazr walked with shame. But what use, after all, was shame? He had done what he had done so he and the woman he loved could live together in happiness. It would be a waste of everything, the worst of all possible outcomes, if he had agreed to such a monstrous price, only to have any possible renumerative happiness ruined by the guilt of what he had done. He made the decision then and there to leave it behind him. By the time he had reached his car, still waiting in the Radio Shack parking lot as if nothing of import had happened in the intervening minutes. He had set aside the choice as a matter of the past, and started to feel the first spark of joy in his heart.

For the last few weeks, he had felt a strangeness, which he now knew was the feeling of falling out of step with reality. And now, the feeling was gone. He felt human again. He started the car, drove directly to Frances’ house. He couldn’t wait to see her. He had never felt such a complete hunger for another person, but it’s possible no one in all of history had ever paid such a price to be with another person.

And there was that person before him, tending to her garden in the cool morning sun. he did not think about a universe and everyone in it, including another version of Frances who no longer existed. He thought about this Frances. He watched her for a long moment from his car, feeling a blissful lack of urgency. They had a life together. What would a few more minutes be? So he let those minutes pass, watching her work, and then he stepped out of the car and approached her. She looked up with a smile. “Hiya,” she said. “I did it,” he said. “I went to the Spire and I did it.” He realized he was crying, but he was also smiling. She frowned, stood, took a step back. “Did what?” she said. “What do you mean I-,” he said. “I made the choice, you were right.” She held the clippers in front of her, not quite towards him, but not quite not. “Sorry,” she said. “Maybe this is something that the other Frances would understand? I suppose a certain confusion was going to be unavoidable, but I do wish you’d calm down.” “The other Frances? In the other universe?” He did not know what was going on. “Sure,” she said. “Sweet lady, or is that immodest? Anyway, she told me that she asked the Brown Stone Spire to take her back to her own universe where I had been stuck. She said we had gotten mixed up, and things weren’t working out for her here. So she showed me how to come back to my world and she went back to hers. She said at least we’d have a chance at happiness this way. She also said he hoped you were as nice in her world as you are in ours.” She eyed Nazr’s sweaty face, the desperate lean of his posture. “Are you nice, Nazr?” “She went back,” he said. Not a question but a surrender. “To her world. To her… universe.” “Yes,” said a Frances who barely knew him at all. “Now I’m sorry, but I do want to get back to my gardening.” Nazr returned to his car, but had nowhere he wanted to go. He watched the Frances who was not his Frances, but she glared at him, so he drove aimlessly and stopped again. His Frances was gone, along wither entire universe. Before hew as aware of it, he was already shouting . “Please, let me reverse it!” he shouted. “Please take it back!” Barks Ennui, in his awkward 3-dimensional body, was sitting on the passenger seat. “There is no taking it back,” said Barks. “But I will make you a one-time offer. If you like, I will let you join her in oblivion. It is not mere death, it is an absolute ceasing of existence, forever. Blip, and you’ll be gone. Do you want this?” Nazr looked into the dog’s distended eyes. He looked and looked. Two weeks later, he returned to school. He went back to football, re-doubled his dedication to his team. A complete focus on football may not be much of a life to many folks, but it is a life. There are many different kinds of life, and most of them are nothing special at all. Frances, a different woman quite literally from the one we started this story with, continued to run the Antiques Mall. What delighted her most was how objects existed here, in the moment, that everything existed all at once, right now. She loved the present. She thought little about tie. Outside her window, a plane passed overhead. No one watched ist passing.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: We regret to inform you that this entire podcast series has been viral marketing for Dippin’ Dots. We don’t think we made that obvious enough and we’re panicking a little. Please tell someone to try Dippin’ Dots today. We are going to be in so much trouble.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #episode 123 #a story of love and horror #part 3: frances

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surveystodestressme · 7 years

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56.

5000 Question Survey Pt. 13

1201. Have you ever owned a record? nope. 1202. In some states people want to make it a requirement that creationism (god made the world) be taught alongside evolution in high school sciences classes. What do you think of this? i don’t really care either way. honestly if they would’ve had that taught in my school i would’ve hated it because i don’t believe in that kind of stuff 1203. Should evolution also be taught in religious establishments like church or temple? sure 1204. Can a person believe in creationism and in evolution at the same time? yeah

1205. You obviously like surveys since you are filling out a 5,000 question one. Do any of the following surveys sound interesting: The Doors/Jim Morrison Survey: The David Bowie Survey: The Beatles Survey: The Rocky Horror Survey: The Labyrinth Survey: The SLC Punk Survey: The birthday survey: So this is love, the survey: The heartache/break up survey: Creationism vs. Evolutionism Survey: Opinion Survey: World Trade Center Survey: Halloween Survey: Survey of Sin: How evil are you? Survey: The Roaring 20’s Survey: sure they all sound a little interesting Well, once, long ago, I created all those surveys. Now they are floating around in people’s diaries because the diary I had them in (Simply Surveys) was deleted due to disuse. 1206. Who did you get this survey from? Say one nice thing about the person you got this survey from: this girl who i follow. she picks out some pretty good surveys lol 1207. Here is a list of priorities… Love/sex Family Close friends School/learning Job/career Being true to yourself/self respect Honesty Aesthetics (beauty in the world) Creativity Patriotism Knowledge Wisdom Leading an exciting life Making a contribution to humanity Being rich Being famous Having power Justice/fairness World peace Accepting and understanding others Finding yourself Spirituality/religion Health Happiness What are your top three priorities from this list? happiness, self respect,and knowledge 1208. Out of that same list what are your BOTTOM 3 priorities? patriotism, being famous, and having power 1209. How many hours of TV do you watch in an average day? too many 1210. Do you want to have a car, a house and 2.5 kids? i have none of those lol 1211. What song, CD, or band is a ‘guilty pleasure’ for you (meaning you know it sucks but you like it anyway)? lol i like me some t swift from time to time 1212. If you were going to vote for a candidate for president and then you found out that the person you were going to vote for is HIV positive would that effect your vote and why? no??? their medical history is none of my concern 1213. Have you ever had an HIV test? nope 1214. What time do you: Get up in the morning: around 7-9 am Eat lunch: sometime around 2 pm Do something active during the day: randomly throughout the day Go to bed: 11 pm 1215. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle? yes. 1216. When you hear the word ‘biker’ what kind of person do you think of? someone that has and rides a motorcycle 1217. Did your parents ever talk to you about sex? i mean, not really 1218. If your pet dies, you can now have it cloned for $50,000. How do you feel about this? nah i wouldn’t do it. it may be a clone but it wouldn’t be the same in my eyes. plus waaay too expensive 1219. Are you or would you be embarrassed about buying condoms? i’m not embarrassed about doing it 1220. Do any of your clocks make an odd noise or play a song when the hour strikes? nope. 1221. What are the things that make you go 'Hmmmm….’ (remember that song?)? idk 1222. Are you a sinner? yeah 1223. Are you naughty or nice? naughty 1224. Is belly-dancing sexy? it can be. 1225. What celebrity would you love to be able to dance with? morgan freeman 1226. What is your favorite comic book movie? kickass 1227. What movie would you recommend for couples to watch on Valentine’s day? my bloody valentine

1228. Besides when you were little how many people have seen you completely naked and who? my boyfriend, and a couple of my good friends 1229. Is sex something that should be treated casually? no. personally, i would only be comfortable having sex with someone i know very well and love 1230. Have you ever participate in an orgy? If no, would you ever consider it? i don’t think i'd want to 1231. What song is in your head right now? i don’t have one right now 1232. What was the best day of your life like? idk i’ve had plenty of good days 1233. What are you all about? my tattoo on wednesday 1234. You have won a contest where you get all these great prizes but you can only keep one for yourself and must give the others away to friends, family or whoever. Which one do you keep and who do you give the rest to: A $5,000 gift certificate to radio shack: Jack A brand new yellow jeep: my brother An all expense paid vacation for 2 to Italy: my sister and her wife Lunch with N'Sync: Mariann A lifetime supply of herbal essences shampoo: whitney A $1,000 check: me A palm pilot? Cayenne An autographed picture of Shakira: Breakfast with kid rock: angela A shirt once worn by Jonathan Davis: Jake One round of mini-golf with Sharon Osbourne: Parky and rebecca A phone call from Robert Smith: neeson??? he likes a lot of music artists (if that’s the robert smith i think it is) A brand new washer/dryer: my parents Free medical insurance for 1 year: my grandparents on my mums side 1235. Who do you think you might have known in a past life? idk a lot??? 1236. Do you take vitamins? no. 1237. Do you prefer fake or real flowers around the house? fake. real ones die so quick 1238. Sometimes roses are pink, yellow, white or red. If you give someone a rose, does its color change the meaning behind it as a gift? i hear that there is a meaning behind the colors of roses but idk what they are 1239. What’s the most deadly thing you can think of? drugs 1240. To-MAY-toes or to-MA-toes? first one 1241. Out of all your friends, family and the people you know who is the most: Intelligent: jack Happy: chandlyre Miserable: mariann Easily influenced: cassie Cranky: corben Bitchy: denise Evil: cayenne Nice: my mother 1242. What’s the best live musical performance you ever saw? twenty one pilots 1243. Have you ever had a 'pregnancy scare’? yes. 1244. Kelly Osbourne or Madonna’s version of “Pappa Don’t Preach”? idk 1245. Can you change a tire? yeah 1246. Have you ever put your fist through a wall? i’m not strong enough 1247. When do you feel the most relaxed and able to be yourself? when i’m in the bath or a shower 1248. Do you have a place that is your own where you won’t show anyone else? i used to but not really anymore 1249. Are you a part of any teams or clubs? nope 1250. Is cheerleading a sport? yeah i think so 1251. Do you believe that people should be able to choose death for themselves if they want to end their lives? i wouldn’t say in a form like suicide. but if someone is already dying and wants the plug to be pulled, i can understand that 1252. Is there anything you morally object to? idk off the top of my head 1253. What would you never do for money? have sex with someone 1254. Applebees, the Outback, or TGI Friday’s? applebees 1255. Which do you drink the most: juice, soda, milk, or water? soda 1256. What sport do you like to watch the most? hockey 1257. What sport do you like to play the most? bowling 1256. Do you write poetry? nope 1257. Are you aggressive? i used to be 1258. Have you ever fallen from grace? don’t think so. 1259. Does it bother you when a band you like gets really popular? i don’t really mind except for the fact that their songs are on the radio all the time 1260. Has anyone ever won you a stuffed animal? If yes, did you name it after the person who won it for you? i don’t think so 1261. Can you go one week without cursing at all? i don’t think so 1262. What’s the best candy? kit kat 1263. Can you lick your own nose? i think so 1264. What song would you like to hear spontaneously in a public place (like a store)? cotton eye joe 1265. Do you ever make others feel unwanted? i don’t try to 1266. Do you think you have ever made others feel unwanted without realizing you were doing it? i hope not. 1267. Are you very sensitive to what other people are feeling and how they will react to certain things? i used to be but i try not to be like that anymore 1268. Have you ever climbed a tree? yeah 1269. Do you feel somehow different when the moon is full? no??? 1270. Who do you know that talks a lot but never really says anything? lots of people 1271. Is world peace possible? i think so but it’s a far way out 1272. Who do you know that is making a huge life mistake yet you can’t stop them? What’s the mistake? mariann. she keeps going back to the same piece of shit guys who treats her awfully and it annoys the crap out of me because she deserves so much better 1273. Do you plan to own a home or rent an apartment for most of your life? i want to own a home eventually 1274. Would you enjoy going to a strip bar to see strippers (of whatever sex you find appealing)? sure, idk 1275. Would you ever consider stripping in a sexual way for money? i used to want to do that lol 1276. Would you ever consider being a nude model for an artistic life drawing class for money? no. 1277. What are 2 goals that you have? make everyone around me happy and have myself be happy 1278. What are 2 negative traits that you have? i procrastinate and sometimes i’m too harsh 1279. Will these negative traits stop you from achieving your goals? yeah 1280. Everyone knows that you are nice, fun, creative, and good but what are 4 other positive traits that you have? hard working, funny, intelligent, and driven 1281. How often do you daydream about your wedding day? not very often 1282. If you were hiring someone for a job but could only ask him or her 3 questions in the interview what would you ask? what do you want to get out of this job? how would you contribute to this company? what are your goals? 1283. If you were interviewing someone for the position of your new friend but could only ask 3 questions, what would they be? what do you like to do for fun? what kind of music do you listen to? are you okay with constant venting and crying? 1285. Wholesome - Conducive to sound health or well being; salutary: simple, examples: wholesome food; a wholesome climate, Promoting mental, moral, or social health: example: wholesome entertainment. Do you enjoy wholesome activities (sports, cooking, beach, family time, zoo, museums, etc.)? If yes what wholesome activity do you enjoy the most? Are you a wholesome person? oh absolutely!! i love going to museums and shit like that 1286. When was your first kiss and what was it like? well, if you count truth or dare, it was the summer before freshman year and i kissed 2 girls. but if that doesn’t count it was a guy named jacob, and it was outside of the movie theater after we saw a movie and i was a freshman. it was ok 1287. Are you quiet and shy? i’m not shy but i’m quiet 1288. Are you bitchy, cranky, whiny, miserable, depressed, needy, mean, flakey, shallow, obnoxious, inconsiderate, nervous, and/or stuck up? i’m cranky and bitchy a lot lol i’m nervous a lot too but more like anxious 1289. Do you come off any of these ways even if you aren’t really like that? i’m sure i do 1290. Are you loud and unfriendly? i’m loud sometimes but i think i’m pretty friendly 1291. Can a positive attitude/good personality make up for someone being less than beautiful? absolutely 1292. Can being totally beautiful and hot make up for a negative attitude/bad personality? absolutely not 1293.What are you seeking? happiness 1294. Could you see yourself as a future nun/monk? lol no 1295. Would you rather have a baby or get a pet? get a pet, definitely 1296. What mistake do you repeat over and over? procrastinating 1297. What do you think of the restaurant Hooters? they have good food and i get served by beautiful women in skimpy clothes. i mean, i’m not complaining 1298. What are 5 traits that make someone ugly? rudeness, egotistical, stupidity, ignorance, and incompetence 1299. Do you hate when people tell you to smile? yes 1300. Do you like the writing of Douglas Adams? idk them.

#quiz #questions #bored #survey

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thefudge · 7 years

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lima syndrome || a klonnie fic

klonnie week: day ii. | TROPES

lima syndrome - def. the phenomenon in which abductors develop sympathy for their captives, named after the abduction of the Japanese Ambassador's Residence in Lima, Peru in 1996 by members of a terrorist group

(you can also read it on ffnet)

“my grandmother is going to kill you.”

this is what she tells him as he fastens the polyethylene rope around her ankles.

his fingers linger on her calves, pulling the leg to see if she can get out of the trap. he notes in passing that the flesh is firm and the muscles are strong, stronger than one would expect of a pampered witch princess.

“let’s not get ahead of ourselves, love.”

bonnie looks down at him. he might’ve been handsome if his jaw didn’t stick out so much. it’s as if he has a grudge on the world.

“i don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing, but this valerian root won’t hold long. i’ll get my powers back...”

“and i’ll keep injecting you,” he supplies with a crooked grin. “pity it doesn’t shut you up as well.”

she struggles a little in his grasp, trying to kick him in vain. “you won’t get away with this.”

“that’s what they all say,” he remarks moodily.

she’s surprised to see that he’s taken her to what looks like an airbase.

“you can’t possibly hope to get me on a plane as your captive.”

klaus - she’s heard his henchmen call him that and she found it oddly upper-crust for a kidnapper - tilts her head up with a brush of his fingers. “only private jets for her highness.”

and indeed, the landing strip is bare except for a gleaming silver beast, the kind high-stakes ambassadors usually fly in. whoever has ordered her capture has ample means.

“i hope they’re paying you well,” she mutters as he guides her towards the tarpaulin.

he must admit that she’s acting very level-headed for one so young. she is calm and thoughtful, her panic having receded to a private place in her mind. from time to time she will clench her fingers, as if calling out to her fettered magic, but she’s doing her best not to make a scene. she’s realized there’s no audience except him and his men. and his men are worse than him.

“you’re a werewolf,” she says, as they fly over the panama channel.

she’s half-asleep (it’s been two very long days) and her eyes have turned a darker shade of green, like deep pools at the bottom of the ocean.

“i can sense it, even with my magic low,” she mumbles, cradling her chin in her hand.

he leans back in his chair and smiles in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. “and what do you sense exactly, witch? my impure blood?”

“yes...” she mutters, eyelids closing against her will. “it smells like oranges...in the sun.”

he’s a little shaken despite his better judgement. he turns towards the window and avoids looking at her again. all these witches are the same - mystical fools with no damn sense in their heads.

an hour later he puts a small pillow under her head. he doesn’t want her breaking her neck, does he?

they land at 3 am in no man’s land and she’s not entirely awake for the business of disembarking and walking over the pebbly ground to the nearby shack where a few men are waiting for them.

so, he has to carry her in his arms. he feels rather foolish at first. he hoists her up firmly over his shoulder, the smell of freesias and sweat invading his senses. but she keeps sliding off his body like a woodland nymph, so he hooks his hand around her shoulders and another under her legs, and carries her like a bride. she doesn’t nestle into his chest. her head falls away from him. he stares at the length of her neck and listens to the throb of her pulse.

they spend half a day at the dilapidated motel outside the village. to anyone else’s eyes, the building is abandoned. but inside, a small army of men are preparing for a ritual.

bonnie gradually understands the purpose of her abduction. she can feel the nervous energy in the air pouring down from the amazonian rainforest. they’re only miles away from one of the temples.

she starts to cry laconically, tears running down her cheeks while her face remains a funeral mask.

the werewolf crouches down at her level. “you needn’t cry. it will all be over soon.”

“what do you care?” she snaps, and it’s the first time she sounds bitter.

“i don’t. but tears irk me.”

she spits on his shoes. “you irk me.”

she’s not likening him to oranges in the sun anymore, that’s for sure. he smiles coolly. “it would be rather strange if i didn’t.”

bonnie looks away, disheartened. “you don’t have to do this.”

“ah, another thing they always say.”

it’s hot and sticky in the truck as they drive through the half-submerged jungle. there used to be a city here, many hundreds of years ago. now it’s just vines and sticky leaves and bugs the size of your head. there’s probably bones too, buried under the foliage.

he hates the jungle. he hates the humidity, the smell, the pressure of it all. his head feels about to explode.

his men sit on the dumpster bed behind, holding machine guns over their shoulder. it’s mostly for show, in case any unlucky humans crop up in a ten-mile radius. they don’t really need them. their claws would sink into your heart before you had time to blink.

bonnie sits by his side, forehead leaning against the grimy window.

klaus hates the stifling silence so he turns on the radio, but the signal is warped in these parts of the forest and all he gets is truncated fragments of a popular ballad.

bonnie heaves a weary sigh. “it’s my birthday today.”

his hands stiffen on the wheel. “i know.”

she laughs bitterly. “right, it’s gotta be my birthday for the ritual.”

“well. happy birthday anyway.”

he doesn’t know why he says it. it’s very daft, given the circumstances. he rubs the back of his neck. he can’t stand the silence, so he presses on. “i don’t know my actual birth day. no one can tell me, as no one can recall with certainty.”

the witch raises her legs to her chest. she’s not tied up anymore seeing as there’s nowhere to run. she scratches the red welt on her arm where he injected her with the next to last dose of valerian. he’s saving the biggest shot for the ritual.

“your parents probably wanted to forget the day you were born,” she tells him callously.

“...i suppose i deserve that one.”

she nods wearily. “you do. you’re a disgrace.”

“a disgrace?” he echoes, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “that’s a bit much.”

“we’re both servants of the moon and instead of helping me, you’re sending me to my death.”

he scoffs. “both servants of the moon? no, little witch. you don’t have to chain yourself when the moon calls for you.”

bonnie shrugs. “maybe i do.”

they don’t speak again for the duration of the ride.

they spend a rainy night in a moldy tent on the side of a precipice where the ground is still relatively warm and dry.

she protests weakly at first that she should be given her own tent, that she’s not about to make her escape and die in the jungle, but he won’t hear it. he knows her kind is “crafty”.

“crafty?” she explodes with a laugh. “if i was such a wily creature, i’d have found a way to kill you by now.”

klaus lets her words wash over him like the rain beating down on their tent.

there is hardly room for two people inside; her proximity is inevitable, but it’s comforting too. he doesn’t know if she feels the same, but it drives away the demons of the jungle.

he rolls down two sleeping bags.

bonnie watches him with a guarded look. “are you going to sleep too?”

he laughs. “of course not. i’d give you a prime opportunity to kill me, like you said.”

“i doubt i could,” she complains, looking around despondently. “i don’t have my magic. i don’t see any sharp objects around. and i don’t think i’m strong enough to strangle you.”

“oh, don’t give up hope yet,” he teases amiably, which makes her shiver uncomfortably. he removes his jacket. his t-shirt is stuck to his skin, exposing every line of his body. bonnie wonders if he can see her body through her thin dress and even thinner shawl. she folds her arms over her chest.

“you should rest for tomorrow,” he tells her gently, but it’s rather cruel.

“yeah, i should get my beauty sleep. i don’t want to look bad on the pyre,” she retorts, holding back a fresh wave of tears. he looks disturbed by her comment but can’t bring himself to offer her any comfort.

they lie down, side by side, on the sleeping bags. bonnie stares up at the dirty canvas.

“i was going to...open a school for witches,” she says softly, staring at the shadow of an insect on the side of the tent.

klaus turns slightly towards her. his bare arm accidentally brushes against hers.

“you wanted to teach?”

she nods, wiping her wet eyes quickly. “i wanted to help young girls like myself find their footing.”

his thumb traces a few freckles on her elbow. she means to move away from his touch. she means to scold him. but she doesn’t, because this is her last night alive and she won’t deny herself this small human gesture.

“you’d be good at it.”

bonnie scoffs. “you don’t know me. you have no idea what i’d be good at.”

“maybe. but i’m a wolf. i can sense these things.”

“that’s superstition.”

“really. a witch telling me about superstition.” there’s humor in his voice. she hates that she will probably think of that when the flames engulf her.

“well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” she bites back, wishing she could hold something to her chest and squeeze it tight.

and somehow, he reads her mind because he pulls her towards him. it’s strange and unexpected - even to him - the way his fingers clench around her waist.

“what are you doing?” she asks quietly as her hands touch his chest tentatively.

he doesn’t answer at first. he stares into her heart-shaped face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize her features. his hand runs up and down her spine, leaving pleasant tremors in its wake. his eyes, she notes, have globs of amber in them. the sun made liquid.

“i want you to know, no one’s paying me,” he says at length.

“what?”

“it’s my mother. she is the one who wants you dead. she wants to absorb your power.”

bonnie’s eyes widen. she clenches her fingers around his t-shirt. “your mother is esther? you’re esther’s son?”

he nods gruffly, as if ashamed of the legacy.

bonnie is speechless for a moment. “but she - how -?”

“even the original witch makes mistakes,” he replies bitterly. “my biological father is one.”

she’s overwhelmed by his confession. she doesn’t know how to respond.

they stare at each other for several long minutes, pondering on each other’s strange fate.

“what do you get out of this, then?” she asks quietly.

“she’s my mother, bonnie.”

her name on his tongue has a strange effect on both of them. he closes the gap between them and kisses her on the lips, without permission or apology. he cradles her cheek and kisses her like she was always his for the kissing. but it doesn’t feel proprietary. it feels like he’s been waiting to do it for a long time. it’s funny to think a few days ago she didn’t know his name.

she sighs into his mouth as he removes the shawl from her shoulders.

they kiss for a small eternity, glued to each other by sweat and exhaustion. he doesn’t disrobe her any further, he only touches her body furtively, skimming small islands of bare skin before coming back to her face. he loves touching her face. if you follow her features closely, they’re rudely asymmetrical, but still beautiful, all the same. he’d like to draw them.

she strokes the back of his neck as he bends down to kiss her lips again and again.

his fingers brush against her knees, parting them slowly. his knuckles caress the inside of her thigh making her heart jump in her throat. but she whispers into his neck. “no. not like this.”

and he understands. he removes himself from her.

they fall back, side by side, staring at the canvas, their shoulders touching.

“i’d like to...” she says nervously. “someday. after you’ve taken me away from this place and bought me dinner. maybe.”

klaus laughs and it sounds innocent and boyish for once. “you’re wasting your breath, witch. i’m not taking you away. i can’t.”

“i know,” she mumbles, closing her eyes. “but a girl can dream.”

a girl dreams. and in this dreams she burns like a bundle of hay, like a handful of branches. the werewolf kneels by her pyre and weeps. everything tastes like ashes.

but bad dreams eventually melt with the coming of the sun.

he injects his mother with an almost lethal dose of valerian as she comes towards him to embrace him. her smile is greedy. her eyes glint with a murderous need. he doesn’t feel too bad about sticking the needle in her. he knows she won’t outright die. her powers will be weakened beyond conscious state and she’ll fall into a deep coma. she’ll wake up in the middle of the jungle. and maybe she’ll survive.

his men listen to him as he’s their alpha. some of them defect because they don’t like the sudden change of plan. they’re old creatures, wary of novelty and all things young. klaus lets them go without killing them. all he wants right now is to get out of the jungle.

bonnie drives the truck haphazardly across the wet trails, glancing from time to time at the werewolf. he doesn’t seem capable to do much else anymore. but that’s fine. he did his part. now, she’s the one taking them away.

sheila bennett doesn’t understand why her granddaughter smells like oranges every night she comes home.

#klonnie #klonnie week #klonnie appreciation week #bonnie bennett #klaus mikaelson #lima syndrome #my fanfic #i KNOW i should be doing more productive things but here have a small tropey fic

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zrtranscripts · 7 years

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Season 6, Mission 19: Catch Us If You Can

Working against better nature

JANINE DE LUCA: Put your helmet on now, Runner Five. [helmet beeps] And now open the airlock. [door hisses open]

SAM YAO: [laughs] Wow. Looks beautiful in there. Look at that, Janine! Lush foliage. Dense jungle. Brightly colored birds flitting between the trees. Enormous spiders on the jungle floor. But I mean, beautiful enormous spiders with jeweled eyes and blue carapaces.

JANINE DE LUCA: It's beautiful but deadly, Mr. Yao. Runner Five, make no mistake: you must not take off your European Rescue Force suit. That biosphere can kill you in a dozen different ways before you take a single step.

SAM YAO: Yeah, and you've got to take a few more than that.

JANINE DE LUCA: I'm sorry we can't come with you, but we cannot draw more attention than necessary to your mission. Bounty hunters are already on Miss Stein's trail, and a large contingent entering the Paradise Project biodome would certainly be noticed. It's all up to you.

Selma, the heroic woman who allowed herself to be taken in by the Minister's breeding program is hiding in the center of that dome, several kilometers in from where you are. She must know the dangers. She must have taken an ERF suit herself, and be hiding in there because no one else will dare to follow.

SAM YAO: Now, I get that there are probably deadly spiders, and snakes, and scorpions, and stuff, but... is it so deadly that not even paid bounty hunters would follow?

JANINE DE LUCA: This place was an experiment that went wrong, Mr. Yao. There are... creatures in this dome. Bio-engineered larvae. Minute, but deadly. If there is a single crack in your suit, Five, they will crawl in, burrow into your skin, lay their eggs, and emerge as six-inch-long maggots.

SAM YAO: Uh, what the... what?

JANINE DE LUCA: So you have to keep moving. Head towards the center of the dome. Now, Five. Run!

JANINE DE LUCA: You're doing well, Runner Five. It must be stifling hot inside that suit, but you're making good progress. And think of poor Miss Stein. By my reckoning, she's been in that biodome for five days. Her suit will be drawing water from the air for her, but she'll have no way to get food or relief from the heat.

SAM YAO: How do they get it that hot in England, anyway?

JANINE DE LUCA: The sphere has its own microclimate powered by a geothermal well beneath its foundations.

SAM YAO: Ah, right. Another one of those. Gotcha. Should have worked it out myself, really. [communication device beeps] What was that?

JANINE DE LUCA: Ah, one of my operatives, Pit Viper Seventeen, has taken out one of the bounty hunters chasing Miss Stein. She confronted them five miles from the Paradise Project, armed only with a birthday cake candle holder, apparently. That's my operative.

SAM YAO: Oh. Wow. Yeah. Ooh, that photo's intense. So, uh, one less person to follow Five into the biodome. [laughs] I have to say - I mean, apart from the deadly larvae and stuff - it does look like paradise. I mean, look at that beautiful blue butterfly circling Five's head, flapping its wings gracefully. [laughs] Look, there's a cloud of them off to the left.

JANINE DE LUCA: Runner Five, those butterflies are the adult stage of the flesh-burrowing larvae. They will attempt to penetrate your suit using their enhanced proboscises. If they can, they will then liquefy your flesh and strip the skin from your carcass.

SAM YAO: Oh. Right, okay.

JANINE DE LUCA: You must not allow them to land on you, Five. Run!

SAM YAO: Okay, okay. The dangerous butterflies are gone now. There's some uh, spiny red caterpillars on that tree, Janine.

JANINE DE LUCA: Don't touch them. Deadly.

SAM YAO: Yep. That would have been my guess. And those gorgeous orange plants with the huge yellow and green striped flowers?

JANINE DE LUCA: Lethally toxic.

SAM YAO: Of course. And the vines? I presume, if Runner Five touches them, they'll come to life and take that suit in a death grip, hoisting it high above the jungle floor.

JANINE DE LUCA: What? No. Watch out for them, though, Five. They might trip you.

SAM YAO: [laughs] It's good to have you back, Janine. I've missed this. You and me in the comms booth. Or like, a makeshift comms booth in a van three miles from the Paradise Project.

JANINE DE LUCA: I've missed it, too, Mr. Yao. I may have been running a team of ruthlessly efficient assassins, but I've grown used to your homespun, amateurish charm.

SAM YAO: Janine, that is probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me.

JANINE DE LUCA: I'm impressed with the way you've all managed in my absence. I must confess, I was rather expecting to find more... damage to Abel Township.

SAM YAO: Yeah, well, a couple of drawers in the farmhouse might be sort of temporarily sealed shut with marmite, but otherwise, you left us good instructions. We did miss you, though.

Listen, I wanted to ask. I mean, maybe I just didn't get it, you know? But you couldn't have known that we'd need to find Selma, and ANNIE would be the only way. Unless you did know?

JANINE DE LUCA: I did not.

SAM YAO: Yeah. Right. So like, here's the question: what was worth leaving us for so long, Janine? I mean, I get that you've found out stuff about Sigrid's operations, and there's the whole team of assassins situation, but... [sighs] well, what did you go undercover for?

JANINE DE LUCA: Wheels within wheels, Mr. Yao. Beneath every structure, another structure. Or to put it another way, Sigrid rules the country, but who rules the rulers?

SAM YAO: Uh, what?

JANINE DE LUCA: An army marches on its stomach, Mr. Yao. A nation, even more so. It's need-to-know. I can tell you this: Sara Smith always told me to watch out for Xia-Hifa. But the game they were playing was longer than anyone realized. Just believe me that I had my reasons.

SAM YAO: Oh, yeah, I do! I always do. Did you see that, Janine? Shadow on the monitor. I can't quite make it come into view.

JANINE DE LUCA: Hmm. Yes. It's near the perimeter, Five. I'll send one of my women to take a look through the outside of the dome.

SAM YAO: Wait. Couldn't be Project Glass, could it? Could it be that quick?

JANINE DE LUCA: We'll find out. Keep going, Five. We know there are several groups after Miss Stein. You must reach her before anyone else does.

[monkeys howl]

SAM YAO: What was that?

JANINE DE LUCA: Howler monkeys. I believe they've been genetically engineered to have congenital rabies. Watch out for them, Five.

SAM YAO: Yeah, because otherwise, Five was just not really paying attention.

[communication device beeps]

JANINE DE LUCA: Damn it.

SAM YAO: What is it? Is Five in trouble? Janine, what's going on?

JANINE DE LUCA: No. Message from one of my Pit Viper assassins. She's been wounded in intercepting one of the Minister's bounty hunters. She dealt with him, of course. Threw him under the train tracks 10 miles away. But she's out of commission now, and one of the other bounty hunters might have slipped past her.

Runner Five, Miss Stein has no way to communicate with the outside world and no knowledge of how many people are looking for her. If you don't get to her, one of the others will.

[arrow thuds into tree]

SAM YAO: What was that? Someone's shooting arrows at Five! Did you see that, Janine?

[arrow splatters against Runner Five's suit]

JANINE DE LUCA: Five, you're hit! The arrow isn't sharp. It's covered in a sticky substance. There's more dripping down from an arrow lodged in the tree above you, Five. Get out of the way!

SAM YAO: It just looks like honey.

[butterflies buzz]

JANINE DE LUCA: It's attracting those butterflies. Five, you have to run now.

[butterflies buzz]

SAM YAO: Okay, okay. So you're just about outpacing those butterflies through the undergrowth, Five. And you're coming up on a waterfall where you can wash off some of that honey.

JANINE DE LUCA: [whispers] Yes, I see him. Make sure you're in position at the vent.

SAM YAO: Did you work out who fired that honey arrow at Five, Janine?

JANINE DE LUCA: It's a bounty hunter. He can't know who Five is, or he’d have radioed Sigrid to report us at once. Must just think Five's another bounty hunter after the purse. Lucky for us.

I have one of my women positioned at the top of the biosphere near one of the air vents. When he passes beneath... [bounty hunter shouts and collapses] Clean kill, by a poisoned dart. Better than he'd have given Five.

SAM YAO: Ugh. Yes. Five, look to your right. Do you see that? I think it's zombie Paradise Project workers. I can just about see their T-shirts under all those butterflies.

Ugh! Ugh, no! I never thought I'd be that disgusted by butterflies. Their tongues are sort of licking through those zombies' eye sockets, and – oh God! I can see them. There are larvae hatching out of their sides. Ugh!

JANINE DE LUCA: Five, if those zombies catch you, you will die in at least three different repulsive and painful ways. You must move quickly. Head for the waterfall. Go!

[water splashes]

SAM YAO: That's it. All the honey's washed off in that waterfall, Five. And you've lost the zoms. Well, they sort of fell to maggoty pieces. You're safe to continue.

[comms shack door opens]

JODY MARSH: We've got a report for you, Janine. Pit Vipers Five and Eight are wounded, but they say they've taken down the [?] ensemble who were going to use a tank to reach Selma in the biodome.

JANINE DE LUCA: Ah. I can always rely on them.

AMELIA SPENS: What's going on in that biodome? Is Runner Five having a tropical shower? I don't want to tell you your job, Janine, but that seems like the kind of thing I'd do, to be honest.

JANINE DE LUCA: Miss Spens, Mr. Yao and Miss Marsh tell me you've been instrumental in this operation, therefore you may sit on that stool and watch the remainder of the mission without talking. Runner Five is nearing Miss Stein's location.

AMELIA SPENS: You know, if you make me sit silently on a stool, I'll make you regret it eventually.

JANINE DE LUCA: Certainly. Runner Five, there's a sharp bend ahead around that hillock. We have no line of sight until you round the corner, so take care.

[monkey shrieks]

JODY MARSH and JANINE DE LUCA: Five, duck!

JANINE DE LUCA: It was a monkey, Runner Five. It has receded into the jungle. Proceed. Very good instincts, Miss Marsh.

JODY MARSH: It wasn't anything. It's just what you would have done.

JANINE DE LUCA: That's what I mean. Miss Marsh, Miss Stein is in that range of caves up ahead. If you were her, where you be sheltering?

JODY MARSH: Hmm. That one's too close to the treeline. You'd attract the attention of the monkeys. That one's too near the water. There are probably insects in it. Hmm. That one looks deep and cool. I'd be in that one.

JANINE DE LUCA: My thoughts exactly. Head for the third cave on the second ridge, Runner Five. Run!

SELMA STEIN: [startles] Who - who's there? Who's there? I'm armed! Oh! Oh, Runner Five, it's you. I've never been so glad to see anyone in my whole life.

JANINE DE LUCA: Five, if you adjust the controls on her communicator to channel seven, she'll pick up our broadcast through your transmitter. [communicator beeps] Miss Stein, we're here to rescue you.

SELMA STEIN: Oh? Who's that?

AMELIA SPENS: It's me, Selma. It's Amelia. You remember me? I'm a terrible, horrible person who really owes you a long Jacuzzi and a massage once you're out of that suit.

SELMA STEIN: You really, really do.

AMELIA SPENS: Selma, I don't want to have to ask you this -

SELMA STEIN: It's all right. I didn't get everything you need, but I think I got enough. I had to run. I really didn't mean to, but they got suspicious. They kept me in the holding area for too long. I knew something was going wrong.

SAM YAO: They found your GPS tags. They turned them off.

SELMA STEIN: Did they? Then... how did you find me?

SAM YAO: We had to... [sighs] we had to call in some favors.

SELMA STEIN: It doesn't matter. This is all that matters. I didn't find the location of her serum factory, but I found its code name. In her files, Sigrid calls the serum factory Project Angelica. If you look for Project Angelica in her private files, you'll find out where those babies are.

AMELIA SPENS: Oh, good. Then all we have to do is get to a private terminal in Sigrid's palace. Sounds like just the sort of certain death challenge Team Abel are always up for.

#zombies run #zrs6 #s6m19 #catch us if you can #zr transcript #zrs6 spoilers

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dommesticpet · 7 years

Photo

I came home from a trip in February 2017 and there was a Nova Pro 100 waiting in my office. I didn't order it, of this I am sure. It's not like this item has a "forget you bought this setting" of which I am aware, but it does have dozens of settings that claim to be conducive to such things as sleep, relaxation, learning, and certain libidinous pursuits.

@Dommestic ordered it, but never did actually say if it was a gift... we weren’t exactly doing any hypnosis stuff at the time, but bringing this in to the house has resulted in a massive increase in crystals, pocket watches, research, and trips to @entrancedhypnocon - which will be going up to one, previously having been zero.

I've heard about the wonders of lights and sound machines in hushed tones for years, largely because few kinky people seem to be really interesting in articulating their virtues beyond "it's great." And it is great! To date, my experience with it has been exclusively as a subject - I ordered a microphone off of Amazon that plugs in the 3.5mm audio port, and it's the closest thing you'll get to a sci-fi brainwashing helmet without assembling it yourself.

I’m writing this today because it’s important for me that you know someone actually makes and sells this kind of device. Also, this explains what the darned thing is as I write about it often.

HOW LONG HAVE THESE THINGS BEEN AROUND?

Forever. Tiger Direct mail-order electronics catalogs have been advertising these things since the late 1980s and early 1990s, near various Macintosh computers and other office doodads that would appeal to the yuppies of the first Bush era. On one page, some sort of mind machine offering at-home hypnosis. On the other, the new Quadras. I haven't heard of this particular Nova Pro brand name until more recently - there were many before the Nova Pro 100, and there are new ones since then.

Wikipedia has an article called Mind Machines that may be of interest to you.

IS IT WORTH THE ASKING PRICE?

If you or your partner have a fetish for hypnosis in the traditional sense, and you’re not prone to light-induced seizures, I think so.

When it comes to various other hypnotic inductions, the question I asked of many is "Does it work?" The best answer I ever heard was "It does if you believe it does," which seems to be consistent with this device's performance. The best way I can describe the various blinking lights and sounds is like the wipers on your car. You can focus on the lights and sounds briefly, and then it's all wiped away. New lights and sounds appear, and those go too. If someone is talking to you, it's the same kind of thing. I'm told I'm responding to things, but heck if I know what some of them are.

At $400 or so, its value would be directly related to how often you might use it. Depending on your level of desperation/shame/solitude regarding hypnosis, this could be very handy for so many levels. Sure you have access to unlimited spirals and MP3s on your computer or phone, but short of virtual reality I don't think anything is quite as immersive. People are making VR apps for phones, and I'd be eager to try that if you know of a good one.

WHAT DO YOU SEE AND HEAR?

It varies - the model we have has sounds similar to an old computer or game system (it boasts surf sounds, I would not describe them as such) along with red or green lights flickering. Other colors and apparently sounds may be available.

DO I NEED TO BUY EXTRA STUFF FOR THIS?

If you want to use it alone, no - but I would recommend buying something if you want to use it with another person. If you live with that person, you want a microphone (more below). If your relationship will involve Skype or your phone, I would suggest a 3.5mm audio cable - basically, the same thing you'd use to plug an iPod or other audio device in a car if you don't use USB. This allows their words to mix with the beats, blips, and beeps that the Nova Pro spits out. The Photosonix people included a tote bag and pretty much everything you need to run it. It does not use batteries, you have to plug it in the wall.

IS IT HOT?

It is so hot that you may have to ask your deity of choice for forgiveness after using it. It’s not a sin but it probably should be one.

WHAT IS IT?

The Nova Pro 100 is a black box. It's metal, it feels last-century and almost handmade. One of the buttons was a little askew, as it was not assembled properly. It was easy to push back in place. It includes at least one pair of headphones - just normal, nice headphones - and a strange pair of glasses. The glasses are basically just sunglasses with LEDs wired to them that will fry your brain, so turn down those lights to the lowest setting when you try it. You also get also a power source, a serial cable to connect to a computer from 1996, and a manual explaining what all the preprogrammed sessions are. I'm told there are many new more downloadable sessions but we have not yet looked in to those. Considering the advances in personal electronics in the past 10-15 years alone, there's a definite "some dude found this in the back of a Radio Shack" vibe to this item, down to the very 1980s-Star Tours-crew-member-colored tote bag included to carry the hardware in a discreet way so nobody has to know about your filthy hypnosis fetish on the way to a trip or a play party or on the subway.

WHAT ABOUT THAT AUDIO PORT?

The designers may have neglected a USB port due to the age of the devices, but the 3.5mm audio jack is actually quite versatile for future-proofing it, minus the various smart devices that opted out of including such a port in their latest generation. You can plug in a microphone if you wish. You may plug in an iPod or iPhone using those 3.5mm cables you use for your car that they sell at Big Lots for a dollar or three. This also means you can hook it up to your computer - so if you really wanted to do so, you could hook up the Nova Pro 100 to Skype so someone in another city, state, or country can talk to you while the Nova Pro 100 does its thing to you locally. I've been fascinated about the notion of remote-control adult toys, and apparently the Photosonix engineers were one step ahead of technology by ensuring you could add any extra audio in here without a hitch.

I do not have much experience with MP3s but I assume you could also use this in conjunction with any recordings you have. Timing the wake-up and induction elements may be tricky though. The device is programmable, so perhaps that's something a more creative person could do. Then again if you're capable of going through that kind of effort, you've probably rolled your own VR hypnosis contraption for your phone by now and that's much cheaper.

HOW IS IT AT HIDING DISTRACTIONS?

Fantastic. During one session Dommestic later told me there were yelling construction workers outside and I had absolutely no idea this was happening - the headphones helped to drown out some of the exterior sound quite nicely. When we later added a microphone to the mix, I felt like I was locked in my own head.

Despite being a fairly simple device, I found it to be excellent at keeping me focused on her words, more or less. I tend to dart around a lot of things, generally keeping one or two more tasks in the back of my mind while working on a third. The Nova Pro 100 does not let me do that very well. Just when you start to get used to it, things change a bit - the sounds, the lights, and it just helps you sink down again.

WHICH MICROPHONE IS GOOD?

We purchased a Audio-Technica ATR-1200 Cardioid Dynamic Vocal/Instrument Microphone (under $20). Photosonix sells an older one directly, but shipping alone costs more than a similar microphone from Amazon. We tried a PC headset mic and it sounded awful.

The combination of the included headset and glasses with the added microphone create an irresistible, otherworldly vortex that I can only describe as spectacular. My Mistress sometimes changes how she holds the microphone - sometimes when she gets really close to it, it's overwhelming and feels like it's coming from inside my own head. Usually she holds it at a reasonable distance and it sounds more or less normal, but you can play around with it for special effects.

IS IT A TIME SINK?

To some extent - pre-programmed sessions are as short as five minutes or over an hour, and like anything fun you can over do it. On the other hand if you're already staring blankly at a TV for 30 minutes a night, this might actually be more fun and given the rising prices of cable TV, perhaps a decent replacement. I'm kidding. Maybe.

The shorter, under 10 minute sessions we tried weren't so great. The longer ones were a trip, to say the least. I think we've only done more than one session in a row once or twice, and the variety does a good job of shaking you up and setting your expectations before really delivering the goods.

BUT DO I NEED ONE?

If you're a hypnosis fetishist with an experienced play partner and sufficient toys/a good tool box? Probably not. If you have trouble relaxing and letting go, or need a little muscle to flex against your partner, this is a gift from above. If you start a little nervous or perhaps even aroused the relaxation setting will relieve you of those burdens quickly. If you're working with an adequately skilled operator with decent knowledge of hypnotic language, this device does a great job of amping up what they have to say or do, while providing lovely little beeps to keep your mind very busy if they decide to go take a break.

The sci-fi feel, the fetishistic bent of having a device that exists solely to service your fetish is the kind of thing that was likely part of all of our adolescent dreams. Having grown up in an environment where the notion of pleasure never came up even once, having one of these arounds feels like a ridiculous luxury item that will likely be stripped away when the revolution comes. I've had access to a lot of goofy consumer electronics over the years, and I can definitely say that it's worth giving up Starbucks or sodas or whatever minor vice you can to the tune of $4-$5 a day/week until you can afford one of these (or a similar device). If you came to me at a younger age and said “you can never buy soda again, but you can have a brainwashing machine at home” I’d say “I accept your terms, also were you sent by the devil and what is the catch?”

WHAT OTHER OPTIONS ARE THERE?

Lots of other companies are doing light/sound therapy machines that are a little more modern.

At least one or two Tumblr users are doing stuff with smart phone apps including but not limited to using the "Cardboard" VR technology to strap someone in a world. I would expect this kind of thing to flourish thanks to the low barrier of entry for most people with smartphones.

@theleeallure had posted a shot or two of some sort of brainwashing chair which involves computer monitors, visuals, and restraints - which sounds fun. Our set-up is just a chair with the Nova Pro.

WHERE CAN I TRY ONE?

As far as I know, no retailer has these set up for test drives but they do find their way in to various hypnosis conventions, gatherings, and unconferences. @mrs-prism informs me she may be bringing one to @entrancedhypnocon for a class on hypnotic toys. There's no guarantee you will be the one using it, but for all I know you'll get to see someone using it and that is a worthwhile experience. Or so they tell me, I've never seen one functioning from the outside - so I’d like to see what that looks like.

If you're doing a lot of play, it's good. The lights and sounds are a distraction from a plain induction, plus the person won't see (or hear) you if you need to consult a note or a script or just make a silly face for some reason. Like a watch, or a crystal, or your eyes, it's a tool that can make the job easier, but you'll still want to consult resources to know what you're doing, and why, and how. Or at least I would prefer you do this.

Make no bones about it, at $400 or more this is an expensive toy. A hypnosis book from the likes of @hypnoobiwan should be tops on your shopping list. The new age store near you likely has crystals for the price of a cheap dinner out, and perhaps a boutique has a nice pocket watch priced similarly.

#Nova Pro 100 #Hypnosis

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unsettlingshortstories · 4 years

Text

Marigolds

Eugenia W. Collier (1969)

When I think of the hometown of my youth, all that I seem to remember is dust—the brown, crumbly dust of late summer—arid, sterile dust that gets into the eyes and makes them water, gets into the throat and between the toes of bare brown feet. I don’t know why I should remember only the dust. Surely there must have been lush green lawns and paved streets under leafy shade trees somewhere in town; but memory is an abstract painting—it does not present things as they are, but rather as they feel. And so, when I think of that time and that place, I remember only the dry September of the dirt roads and grassless yards of the shantytown where I lived. And one other thing I remember, another incongruency of memory—a brilliant splash of sunny yellow against the dust—Miss Lottie’s marigolds.

Whenever the memory of those marigolds flashes across my mind, a strange nostalgia comes with it and remains long after the picture has faded. I feel again the chaotic emotions of adolescence, illusive as smoke, yet as real as the potted geranium before me now. Joy and rage and wild animal gladness and shame become tangled together in the multicolored skein of fourteen-going-on-fifteen as I recall that devastating moment when I was suddenly more woman than child, years ago in Miss Lottie’s yard. I think of those marigolds at the strangest times; I remember them vividly now as I desperately pass away the time.

I suppose that futile waiting was the sorrowful background music of our impoverished little community when I was young. The Depression that gripped the nation was no new thing to us, for the black workers of rural Maryland had always been depressed. I don’t know what it was that we were waiting for; certainly not for the prosperity that was “just around the corner,” for those were white folks’ words, which we never believed. Nor did we wait for hard work and thrift to pay off in shining success, as the American Dream promised, for we knew better than that, too. Perhaps we waited for a miracle, amorphous in concept but necessary if one were to have the grit to rise before dawn each day and labor in the white man’s vineyard until after dark, or to wander about in the September dust offering one’s sweat in return for some meager share of bread. But God was chary with miracles in those days, and so we waited—and waited.

We children, of course, were only vaguely aware of the extent of our poverty. Having no radios, few newspapers, and no magazines, we were somewhat unaware of the world outside our community. Nowadays we would be called culturally deprived and people would write books and hold conferences about us. In those days everybody we knew was just as hungry and ill clad as we were. Poverty was the cage in which we all were trapped, and our hatred of it was still the vague, undirected restlessness of the zoo-bred flamingo who knows that nature created him to fly free.

As I think of those days I feel most poignantly the tag end of summer, the bright, dry times when we began to have a sense of shortening days and the imminence of the cold.

By the time I was fourteen, my brother Joey and I were the only children left at our house, the older ones having left home for early marriage or the lure of the city, and the two babies having been sent to relatives who might care for them better than we. Joey was three years younger than I, and a boy, and therefore vastly inferior. Each morning our mother and father trudged wearily down the dirt road and around the bend, she to her domestic job, he to his daily unsuccessful quest for work. After our few chores around the tumbledown shanty, Joey and I were free to run wild in the sun with other children similarly situated.

For the most part, those days are ill-defined in my memory, running together and combining like a fresh watercolor painting left out in the rain. I remember squatting in the road drawing a picture in the dust, a picture which Joey gleefully erased with one sweep of his dirty foot. I remember fishing for minnows in a muddy creek and watching sadly as they eluded my cupped hands, while Joey laughed uproariously. And I remember, that year, a strange restlessness of body and of spirit, a feeling that something old and familiar was ending, and something unknown and therefore terrifying was beginning.

One day returns to me with special clarity for some reason, perhaps because it was the beginning of the experience that in some inexplicable way marked the end of innocence. I was loafing under the great oak tree in our yard, deep in some reverie which I have now forgotten, except that it involved some secret, secret thoughts of one of the Harris boys across the yard. Joey and a bunch of kids were bored now with the old tire suspended from an oak limb, which had kept them entertained for a while.

“Hey, Lizabeth,” Joey yelled. He never talked when he could yell. “Hey, Lizabeth, let’s go somewhere.”

I came reluctantly from my private world. “Where you want to go? What you want to do?”

The truth was that we were becoming tired of the formlessness of our summer days. The idleness whose prospect had seemed so beautiful during the busy days of spring now had degenerated to an almost desperate effort to fill up the empty midday hours.

“Let’s go see can we find some locusts on the hill,” someone suggested.

Joey was scornful. “Ain’t no more locusts there. Y’all got ‘em all while they was still green.”

The argument that followed was brief and not really worth the effort. Hunting locust trees wasn’t fun anymore by now.

“Tell you what,” said Joey finally, his eyes sparkling. “Let’s us go over to Miss Lottie’s.”

The idea caught on at once, for annoying Miss Lottie was always fun. I was still child enough to scamper along with the group over rickety fences and through bushes that tore our already raggedy clothes, back to where Miss Lottie lived. I think now that we must have made a tragicomic spectacle, five or six kids of different ages, each of us clad in only one garment—the girls in faded dresses that were too long or too short, the boys in patchy pants, their sweaty brown chests gleaming in the hot sun. A little cloud of dust followed our thin legs and bare feet as we tramped over the barren land.

When Miss Lottie’s house came into view we stopped, ostensibly to plan our strategy, but actually to reinforce our courage. Miss Lottie’s house was the most ramshackle of all our ramshackle homes. The sun and rain had long since faded its rickety frame siding from white to a sullen gray. The boards themselves seemed to remain upright not from being nailed together but rather from leaning together, like a house that a child might have constructed from cards. A brisk wind might have blown it down, and the fact that it was still standing implied a kind of enchantment that was stronger than the elements. There it stood and as far as I know is standing yet—a gray, rotting thing with no porch, no shutters, no steps, set on a cramped lot with no grass, not even any weeds—a monument to decay.

In front of the house in a squeaky rocking chair sat Miss Lottie’s son, John Burke, completing the impression of decay. John Burke was what was known as queer-headed. Black and ageless, he sat rocking day in and day out in a mindless stupor, lulled by the monotonous squeak-squawk of the chair. A battered hat atop his shaggy head shaded him from the sun. Usually John Burke was totally unaware of everything outside his quiet dream world. But if you disturbed him, if you intruded upon his fantasies, he would become enraged, strike out at you, and curse at you in some strange enchanted language which only he could understand. We children made a game of thinking of ways to disturb John Burke and then to elude his violent retribution.

But our real fun and our real fear lay in Miss Lottie herself. Miss Lottie seemed to be at least a hundred years old. Her big frame still held traces of the tall, powerful woman she must have been in youth, although it was now bent and drawn. Her smooth skin was a dark reddish brown, and her face had Indian-like features and the stern stoicism that one associates with Indian faces. Miss Lottie didn’t like intruders either, especially children. She never left her yard, and nobody ever visited her. We never knew how she managed those necessities which depend on human interaction—how she ate, for example, or even whether she ate. When we were tiny children, we thought Miss Lottie was a witch and we made up tales that we half believed ourselves about her exploits. We were far too sophisticated now, of course, to believe the witch nonsense. But old fears have a way of clinging like cobwebs, and so when we sighted the tumbledown shack, we had to stop to reinforce our nerves.

“Look, there she is,” I whispered, forgetting that Miss Lottie could not possibly have heard me from that distance. “She’s fooling with them crazy flowers.”

“Yeh, look at ‘er.”

Miss Lottie’s marigolds were perhaps the strangest part of the picture. Certainly they did not fit in with the crumbling decay of the rest of her yard. Beyond the dusty brown yard, in front of the sorry gray house, rose suddenly and shockingly a dazzling strip of bright blossoms, clumped together in enormous mounds, warm and passionate and sun-golden. The old black witch-woman worked on them all summer, every summer, down on her creaky knees, weeding and cultivating and arranging, while the house crumbled and John Burke rocked. For some perverse reason, we children hated those marigolds. They interfered with the perfect ugliness of the place; they were too beautiful; they said too much that we could not understand; they did not make sense. There was something in the vigor with which the old woman destroyed the weeds that intimidated us. It should have been a comical sight—the old woman with the man’s hat on her cropped white head, leaning over the bright mounds, her big backside in the air—but it wasn’t comical, it was something we could not name. We had to annoy her by whizzing a pebble into her flowers or by yelling a dirty word, then dancing away from her rage, reveling in our youth and mocking her age. Actually, I think it was the flowers we wanted to destroy, but nobody had the nerve to try it, not even Joey, who was usually fool enough to try anything.

“Y’all git some stones,” commanded Joey now and was met with instant giggling obedience as everyone except me began to gather pebbles from the dusty ground. “Come on, Lizabeth.”

I just stood there peering through the bushes, torn between wanting to join the fun and feeling that it was all a bit silly.

“You scared, Lizabeth?”

I cursed and spat on the ground—my favorite gesture of phony bravado. “Y’all children get the stones, I’ll show you how to use ‘em.”

I said before that we children were not consciously aware of how thick were the bars of our cage. I wonder now, though, whether we were not more aware of it than I thought. Perhaps we had some dim notion of what we were, and how little chance we had of being anything else. Otherwise, why would we have been so preoccupied with destruction? Anyway, the pebbles were collected quickly, and everybody looked at me to begin the fun.

“Come on, y’all.”

We crept to the edge of the bushes that bordered the narrow road in front of Miss Lottie’s place. She was working placidly, kneeling over the flowers, her dark hand plunged into the golden mound. Suddenly zing—an expertly aimed stone cut the head off one of the blossoms.

“Who out there?” Miss Lottie’s backside came down and her head came up as her sharp eyes searched the bushes. “You better git!”

We had crouched down out of sight in the bushes, where we stifled the giggles that insisted on coming. Miss Lottie gazed warily across the road for a moment, then cautiously returned to her weeding. Zing—Joey sent a pebble into the blooms, and another marigold was beheaded.

Miss Lottie was enraged now. She began struggling to her feet, leaning on a rickety cane and shouting. “Y’all git! Go on home!” Then the rest of the kids let loose with their pebbles, storming the flowers and laughing wildly and senselessly at Miss Lottie’s impotent rage. She shook her stick at us and started shakily toward the road crying, “Git ‘long! John Burke! John Burke, come help!”

Then I lost my head entirely, mad with the power of inciting such rage, and ran out of the bushes in the storm of pebbles, straight toward Miss Lottie, chanting madly, “Old witch, fell in a ditch, picked up a penny and thought she was rich!” The children screamed with delight, dropped their pebbles, and joined the crazy dance, swarming around Miss Lottie like bees and chanting, “Old lady witch!” while she screamed curses at us. The madness lasted only a moment, for John Burke, startled at last, lurched out of his chair, and we dashed for the bushes just as Miss Lottie’s cane went whizzing at my head.

I did not join the merriment when the kids gathered again under the oak in our bare yard. Suddenly I was ashamed, and I did not like being ashamed. The child in me sulked and said it was all in fun, but the woman in me flinched at the thought of the malicious attack that I had led. The mood lasted all afternoon. When we ate the beans and rice that was supper that night, I did not notice my father’s silence, for he was always silent these days, nor did I notice my mother’s absence, for she always worked until well into evening. Joey and I had a particularly bitter argument after supper; his exuberance got on my nerves. Finally I stretched out upon the pallet in the room we shared and fell into a fitful doze.

When I awoke, somewhere in the middle of the night, my mother had returned, and I vaguely listened to the conversation that was audible through the thin walls that separated our rooms. At first I heard no words, only voices. My mother’s voice was like a cool, dark room in summer—peaceful, soothing, quiet. I -4- loved to listen to it; it made things seem all right somehow. But my father’s voice cut through hers, shattering the peace.

“Twenty-two years, Maybelle, twenty-two years,” he was saying, “and I got nothing for you, nothing, nothing.”

“It’s all right, honey, you’ll get something. Everybody out of work now, you know that.”

“It ain’t right. Ain’t no man ought to eat his woman’s food year in and year out, and see his children running wild. Ain’t nothing right about that.”

“Honey, you took good care of us when you had it. Ain’t nobody got nothing nowadays.”

“I ain’t talking about nobody else, I m talking about me. God knows I try.” My mother said something I could not hear, and my father cried out louder, “What must a man do, tell me that?”

“Look, we ain’t starving. I git paid every week, and Mrs. Ellis is real nice about giving me things. She gonna let me have Mr. Ellis’s old coat for you this winter—”

“Damn Mr. Ellis’s coat! And damn his money! You think I want white folks’ leavings?

“Damn, Maybelle”—and suddenly he sobbed, loudly and painfully, and cried helplessly and hopelessly in the dark night. I had never heard a man cry before. I did not know men ever cried. I covered my ears with my hands but could not cut off the sound of my father’s harsh, painful, despairing sobs. My father was a strong man who could whisk a child upon his shoulders and go singing through the house. My father whittled toys for us, and laughed so loud that the great oak seemed to laugh with him, and taught us how to fish and hunt rabbits. How could it be that my father was crying? But the sobs went on, unstifled, finally quieting until I could hear my mother’s voice, deep and rich, humming softly as she used to hum to a frightened child.

The world had lost its boundary lines. My mother, who was small and soft, was now the strength of the family; my father, who was the rock on which the family had been built, was sobbing like the tiniest child. Everything was suddenly out of tune, like a broken accordion. Where did I fit into this crazy picture? I do not now remember my thoughts, only a feeling of great bewilderment and fear.

Long after the sobbing and humming had stopped, I lay on the pallet, still as stone with my hands over my ears, wishing that I too could cry and be comforted. The night was silent now except for the sound of the crickets and of Joey’s soft breathing. But the room was too crowded with fear to allow me to sleep, and finally, feeling the terrible aloneness of 4 A.M., I decided to awaken Joey.

“Ouch! What’s the matter with you? What you want?” he demanded disagreeably when I had pinched and slapped him awake.

“Come on, wake up.”

“What for? Go ‘way.”

I was lost for a reasonable reply. I could not say, “I’m scared and I don’t want to be alone,” so I merely said, “I’m going out. If you want to come, come on.”

The promise of adventure awoke him. “Going out now? Where to, Lizabeth? What you going to do?”

I was pulling my dress over my head. Until now I had not thought of going out. “Just come on,” I replied tersely.

I was out the window and halfway down the road before Joey caught up with me. “Wait, Lizabeth, where you going?”

I was running as if the Furies were after me, as perhaps they were—running silently and furiously until I came to where I had half known I was headed: to Miss Lottie’s yard.

The half-dawn light was more eerie than complete darkness, and in it the old house was like the ruin that my world had become—foul and crumbling, a grotesque caricature. It looked haunted, but I was not afraid, because I was haunted too.

“Lizabeth, you lost your mind?” panted Joey.

I had indeed lost my mind, for all the smoldering emotions of that summer swelled in me and burst—the great need for my mother who was never there, the hopelessness of our poverty and degradation, the bewilderment of being neither child nor woman and yet both at once, the fear unleashed by my father’s tears. And these feelings combined in one great impulse toward destruction.

“Lizabeth!”

I leaped furiously into the mounds of marigolds and pulled madly, trampling and pulling and destroying the perfect yellow blooms. The fresh smell of early morning and of dew-soaked marigolds spurred me on as I went tearing and mangling and sobbing while Joey tugged my dress or my waist crying, “Lizabeth, stop, please stop!”

And then I was sitting in the ruined little garden among the uprooted and ruined flowers, crying and crying, and it was too late to undo what I had done. Joey was sitting beside me, silent and frightened, not knowing what to say. Then, “Lizabeth, look!”

I opened my swollen eyes and saw in front of me a pair of large, calloused feet; my gaze lifted to the swollen legs, the age-distorted body clad in a tight cotton nightdress, and then the shadowed Indian face surrounded by stubby white hair. And there was no rage in the face now, now that the garden was destroyed and there was nothing any longer to be protected.

“M-miss Lottie!” I scrambled to my feet and just stood there and stared at her, and that was the moment when childhood faded and womanhood began. That violent, crazy act was the last act of childhood. For as I gazed at the immobile face with the sad, weary eyes, I gazed upon a kind of reality which is hidden to childhood. The witch was no longer a witch but only a broken old woman who had dared to create beauty in the midst of ugliness and sterility. She had been born in squalor and lived in it all her life. Now at the end of that life she had nothing except a fallingdown hut, a wrecked body, and John Burke, the mindless son of her passion. Whatever verve there was left in her, whatever was of love and beauty and joy that had not been squeezed out by life, had been there in the marigolds she had so tenderly cared for.

Of course I could not express the things that I knew about Miss Lottie as I stood there awkward and ashamed. The years have put words to the things I knew in that moment, and as I look back upon it, I know that that moment marked the end of innocence. Innocence involves an unseeing acceptance of things at face value, an ignorance of the area below the surface. In that humiliating moment I looked beyond myself and into the depths of another person. This was the beginning of compassion, and one cannot have both compassion and innocence.

The years have taken me worlds away from that time and that place, from the dust and squalor of our lives, and from the bright thing that I destroyed in a blind, childish striking out at God knows what. Miss Lottie died long ago and many years have passed since I last saw her hut, completely barren at last, for despite my wild contrition she never planted marigolds again. Yet, there are times when the image of those passionate yellow mounds returns with a painful poignancy. For one does not have to be ignorant and poor to find that his life is as barren as the dusty yards of our town. And I too have planted marigolds.

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trippinglynet · 5 years

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A Blaze of Glory / Burning Man torched to climax eccentric six-day art festival in the Nevada desert

Sam Whiting, Chronicle Staff Writer

Published 4:00 am PDT, Tuesday, September 2, 1997

Gerlach, Nev. -- Nevada's sixth-largest city was torched Sunday night as the Burning Man spit sparks and fell over backward onto the desert floor.

About 12,000 residents of Black Rock City, the six-day encampment created for the annual Burning Man Festival, stood and cheered as fireworks lit the sky. Then they burned a huge wooden duck, a Trojan Horse and anything else that would burn. Elaborate, expensive art installations that had taken all summer to build were heaped onto a bonfire.

"All good art must be burnt, torn down or thrown away," explained Eric Wilhelm of Lake Tahoe, while watching a theme camp called the Enchanted Forest be turned to kindling.

ALL-NIGHT RITUAL

The ritual lasted all night and well into Labor Day before the hedonists packed it in for another year away from their utopia. Measured in terms of artistic and sexual freedom, there is no place else like Black Rock City, which rises out of the desert each Labor Day weekend to become the home of the Burning Man festival. The level of decadence achieved is judged illegal and immoral in most places, including Washoe County, Nev., where it is held on the dry lakebed of Hualapai Playa, midway between Gerlach and Leadville.

"It fulfilled an image I had of crazy California," said Georg Pfeiffer, a Berlin student who flew to San Jose, then bought a 1972 Cadillac Fleetwood to drive up in style. "All in all, it's been very inspirational and inventive," he said after napping on the car's roof. "In the States you can't drink beer outside or walk around naked, and here it's the opposite."

DESERTPALOOZA

Burning Man '97 started last Wednesday, and by Saturday afternoon it was a giant dusty Desertpalooza around Center Camp. A water truck came through to wet the grounds, and as it drove along spraying, people ran out of their camps and fell in behind it, ripping off their clothes as they followed the shower.

A lot of campers avoided clothes altogether. People walked around naked with their bodies painted, or without their bodies painted. That was convenient for the shaving booth, where a razor-wielding woman was glad to remove any unwanted hair, or the Temple of Atonement, where those feeling guilty could volunteer to be strapped to a cross and whipped in the sun.

When the sun finally set, the surrounding mountains turned purple and red, and the campers cheered in a wave that echoed up and down the four-mile encampment. At night, the desert twinkled with neon lights up and down Grand Boulevard. At midnight there was Grand Opera on the main stage, with hundreds performing and thousands in the audience. After the last curtain call the set was torched. By way of ovation audience -- members took off their clothes and danced around the bonfire.

"It was incredible, dazzling, awe- inspiring," said Bill Cagle of San Francisco. A roller skating rink was open until 3 a.m., and the music died down just as San Francisco artist Jim Mason started construction on his huge ice sculpture.

"I was trying to get some sleep at 4:30 in the morning, and the chain saw woke me up," explained Burning Man founder Larry Harvey. "I wouldn't exchange that for the world."

BAZAAR AND BIZARRE

The techno music finally stopped around 6 a.m. Sunday, but by afternoon Central Camp was roaring like a Middle Eastern bazaar. The only cash concessions were the coffee house and ice being sold to benefit Gerlach High School. Everything else was free. There were nude Twister and nude limbo and nude croquet. A motorized cart offered tours, with the disclaimer that "all rides one way and may end at any time."

There were several battery-powered recliner couches whipping across the playa. They were made by Fastest Furniture of Palo Alto, which also demonstrated a motorized coffee table. Operated by remote control, it would bump into someone, then the phone would ring. Someone would answer and there would be a voice on the other end, engaging in conversation. Then the table would start moving again. "It's interesting human nature, watching people follow the phone," explained operator Richard Cossel.

SLIGHTLY CARRIED AWAY

There was a bed rigged with sails, and a traveling living room the size of a Rose Bowl float. Women stood on it, dressed in fishnets and slinky gowns, waving to the crowd. One float queen got carried away, apparently dancing on top of the couch, and fell off, suffering a concussion. She was strapped onto a board and taken away by ambulance.

That was the most serious injury of the weekend. By order of the Washoe County commissioners, 60 firefighters from three departments and 18 sheriff's deputies were on duty full time. There were 10 fire trucks, which responded to about 30 calls, mostly minor.

"These people have been extremely cooperative," said Fire Marshal Paul Mijanovich.

There were also a force from the Washoe County Sheriff's Department, backed by a helicopter, but there were only a few arrests, on minor charges, according to Sergeant Marshall Emerson.

Permit and security costs ran to $321,000, and to meet it, prices were doubled this year to $75 for a weekend ticket at the gate, and $30 for a day pass for those walking in.

Eddie and Kathryn Egyed drove four hours from Lake Almanor, but they weren't about to pay $30 each. They'd attended the year before, when Burning Man was free to anyone who didn't mind a little sneaking.

"This event was all about having a good time. It isn't going to be nothing like it was," said Eddie. "I can see paying $5," said Kathryn. "But they're not supposed to be making money on it."

They won't be. Paid attendance was estimated to be 10,000 to 14,000, which is much more than Burning Man has ever had but several thousand fewer than needed to break even. The operating deficit is estimated at $200,000, and the camp radio stations put out a call for emergency donations yesterday.

Harvey said the county would get its money, "but they've stripped us of all capital." Organizers expected 20,000 people.

"We didn't get 20 (thousand) because we raised the ticket price, but that eliminated the survivalimpaired," said Harvey, who vowed that the festival would continue. "We succeeded brilliantly," he said. "This is the most creative Burning Man we've ever done. It was the greatest good-neighbor feeling most of these people have ever had."

EVENING WEAR FOR COCKTAILS

This was most evident at the Society Cocktail Party on Sunday night at Cafe Temps Perdu in Central Camp.

People who had been in rags, if that, managed to produce full formal wear -- evening gowns with white gloves for the women, white dinner jackets or tails for the men. Champagne and martini glasses were clinking. People murmured, "Talk, talk, mingle, mingle."

"Darling, you look fabulous," one man complimented a woman. "Are you going to be wearing that to the Symphony opening?"

"You can just start talking to anybody about anything. It's very surreal," said Saron Dae Wolf, who had come down from Seattle with the Bavarian Illuminati Motorcycle Club. Her friend H.G. Wells, a descendant of the writer, topped all the other guests with a full officer's uniform, with pins and medals, from the East German army.

After the cocktail party, the entire encampment was drawn toward the 50-foot wooden man, his bones in purple neon and his ribs in blinking green. Drums pounded, the motorized coffee table crashed into people. A man named Highway Hal stood naked on a motorized cross.

At 9:45, Burning Man's hands started sending out flares, then his feet ignited, and the fire moved up, in brilliant orange and red. The people got what they came for.

"That's a good burn," said one woman, before turning and walking back to Bianca's Smut Shack for one last night of depravity.

#San Francisco Gate #SFGate #Burning Man 1997 #1997 #Eric Wilhelm #Enchanted Forest #Georg Pfeiffer #Desertpalooza #Bill Cagle #Jim Mason #Fastest Furniture #Richard Cossel #Paul Mijanovich #Marshall Emerson #Eddie Egyed #Cafe Temps Perdu #Saron Dae Wolf #Bavarian Illuminati Motorcycle Club

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concerthopperblog · 6 years

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This was my first time returning to the festival since 2015 headliners The Decemberists brought me to the festival for one day. I was excited to return not just to cover the event as press, but because this would be my first time going for all 3 days to Rhythm N’ Blooms! Thus I knew I’d have more time to explore the various stages, and catch not just the main acts, but many of the smaller acts as well as the secret shows.

Friday

The Young Fables

As any attendee will tell you Friday started out rather wet and cold, but I was too enthused to pay attention to that (except where my camera equipment was concerned). I started out by catching The Young Fables set in Jackson Terminal. I had become quite a fan of The Young Fables as I prepped for the festival (thanks Spotify playlist!), and they did not disappoint! Laurel and Wesley are both supremely talented, and you can tell they have not just the musical chops but also the drive to succeed that I think, quite deservedly, will get them national attention! I had the pleasure to talk with them during the festival too, so look for an interview with them later in the month on ConcertHopper.com.

Booker T Jones

Following their set I rushed over to catch the venerable rocker Booker T. Jones. Even if you only know “Green Onions” you undoubtedly knew this was a show to see. Booker was all smiles coming on stage, but behind that you could tell he and his band came to rock! I planned a tight schedule for myself so perhaps regrettably I didn’t hang around for long, just half the set, but I loved every second. And as Booker introduced each song, and often the history of the tracks, I got an even fuller grasp of his and the Booker T & the MG’s reach into the annals of rock fame. I’ll remember this performance for some time to come.

Daniel Donato

As I left Booker’s set I hopped on over to the Pilot Light – an odd venue I’d fallen in love with upon my first visit to the festival. Perhaps odd isn’t the word, but compared to many venues this was perhaps the dive-iest. In 2015 everytime I walked by I loved all the music I heard coming through the door. Regrettably it’s also the most packed venue I’ve found at Rhythm N’ Blooms, and in 2015 when the heat was out I couldn’t stay in for long without feeling overwhelmingly oppressed by the heat of the crowds. Enter 2018, a day when we dipped to near freezing temps, and as I realized the perfect weather for me to handle the Pilot Light. I was quite thankful as I saw many fantastic acts at this venue, starting with Daniel Donato!

Daniel Donato and his backing band look like what I imagine Led Zeppelin’s kids would look like, with their rock star style and hair. His music style is often referred to as “cosmic country”, also the name of his CD, and I can see what that all fits as it was pretty out of this world! Daniel’s known as a prodigious guitarist, and we certainly saw that on display, but what was perhaps most memorable to me was his cover of John Prine’s “Angel from Montgomery” performed with his girlfriend. Goose bumps galore broke out with their beautiful rendition of this classic song.

Max Gomez

Next I checked out singer songwriter Max Gomez, who perfectly segued Daniel’s show for me, as Daniel played Prine, while Max clearly came from the singer songwriter world Prine inhabits. This was a more stripped down show compared to many I heard during the festival, but even with just two guitarists his sound filled the room as the audience was captivated by his softer, albeit strong sound. I discovered afterward he only has one full record, and an EP, but after that show I’ll be giving both a good listen.

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Following Max’s performance, I headed back to the main stage to hear Deer Tick! Deer Tick’s style of music is right up my alley, as it’s reminiscent at times of the gone too soon Tom Petty, if he were partnered with artists such as “Wilco” and “Modest Mouse”. As they recently released not just one (1) but two (2) albums, after a four year absence, there was a sense of anticipation within the crowd, that I think that was met resoundingly with a very energetic set from the band. I had to call it an early night Friday, so I was quite happy to end my first day listening to a band not only that I enjoy but in so many ways encapsulates that Rhythm N’ Blooms vibe.

Saturday

Rhythm N’ Blooms offered a number of workshops on Saturday, including “Get Your Music Heard (Radio + Streaming 101), Meet the Press: The Nuts & Bolts of Getting Great Media Coverage”, and the one I dropped into “Time’s Up in the Music Industry”. I thought this was an especially prescient panel for me to attend, and I’m certainly glad I did. Among the panelists there were representatives for radio stations, artists, festivals, including Chyna, the host of Rhythm N’ Blooms and Attack Monkey Productions, and they hoped to have an artist on however she had to back out. While the panel gave me hope with such aspirations as the 2020 movement, where festivals have a gender equitable line-up by 2020, so many stories of day to day abuse and harassment just made me recognize how much further we have to come.

Following that inspiring panel I was excited to attend my first Secret Show at Rhythm N’ Blooms! These shows are on the schedule, but the bands aren’t announced till shortly before on social media. I actually did not have a chance to check my Facebook prior, so I was pleasantly surprised to see Penny & Sparrow, a band I wanted to see but didn’t know if I could with my schedule, take the stage. Their set felt like a perfect start musically to the morning, as their sound belies a soft power that’s awe inspiring, but not too racous either for the “just now sipping our first coffee crowd”. I absolutely loved the power of their vocals especially!

On the flip side there’s The War & Treaty, whom I saw immediately following at the Pilot Light! The War & Treaty made my “9 Acts to See” list and for good reason. Their gospel inspired music is powerful on all fronts, and I can see that regardless of the size of the room this husband and wife duo would fill it. Seeing as how this was a dive bar it was packed, but the energy was incredible! I loved the show so much, but probably my greatest regret is that I didn’t see this act when they played again at the festival.

I hopped on over for my first time to the Love Shack (no jukebox money required) following the War & Treaty show to catch Carly Burruss. Little did I know how appropriate this transition would be, as Carly’s songs do fit the country mold, but often bring a little extra gospel to bear too as she does in her track “Devil Can’t Steal My Joy”. While songs like “Good Enough for Me” have a more retro-country sound, and a message about the struggles of love that no doubt resonates with anyone who’s had a bad streak looking for love. I admit I came in with an unfamiliarity of her music, but I came away a fan.

At this point the afternoon sun was high in the sky, and the main stage was starting to come alive with activity. So I headed down to catch The Accidentals, one of my favorite discoveries in prepping for Rhythm N’ Blooms. Thinking back to the Time’s Up panel from earlier, it was quite refreshing to see a female fronted band take the main stage (something Rhythm N’ Blooms wants to do even more!). But as was discussed that morning in the panel it’s not just their womanhood getting them on stage, oh no, but their incredible talent that earned them this place. I loved the unique harmonies, and folksy rock, bringing together the harmonies and edge of Meg & Dia, while using instrumentation fitting for country and folk acts.

Before taking a break for the evening to get dinner I checked out one last act I was supremely looking forward to – Brother Sundance! Brother Sundance, the moniker of Rylan Talerico, is an artist whose sound heavily relies on electronics and his own unique production. So I was expecting an electro heavy set, but apparently do to tech issues the show suddenly became acoustic. Now this had Brother Sundance quite nervous for the whole show, which he joked about a few times, but for the audience I think we were presented with a rare treat as the show suddenly became what I imagine to be a rare acoustic performance from the artist. What I gleaned in listening to them acoustically, and to listening to his self-produced records prior to the festival, is that the talent and power of the music shines through either way so he had no reason to worry.

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After a break for dinner I returned to catch the headliner for the evening Dr. Dog, where a large crowd had already gathered. Dr. Dog of course did not disappoint! Though why should they as they’ve honed their live act as a band over nearly 20 year run. Of note for me in particular was getting to hear tracks I’d heard on their 2015 “Live at a Flamingo Hotel” release played in person, so when I heard songs like “That Old Black Hole” it just felt all the more powerful hearing it live actually in person! Of course they played some new tracks as well such as their new single “Go Out Fighting” and my personal favorite track thus far “Listening In”. Both songs will be on their forthcoming album “Critical Equation”.

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You’d have thought that’d be the end cap for the night, but the night was long and I still had LUTHI to see! LUTHI made my “9 Acts Not to Miss” list, so I was super hyped to see them already, but minutes before their show I also had the chance to interview founding member and bassist Taylor Craft. (Interview to be released at the end of the month!)

LUTHI performed in the 2nd biggest venue, the Jackson Terminal, and you’d have thought they had top billing as packed as the crowds were for their show. I even overheard one audience member say they’d been told by a friend “if you see only one band at the festival see LUTH”. Well they earned their crowd with a high energy set featuring all 9 members, that’s right 9, giving their funky best! They’ve really adopted the label of being a “Boogie Circus”, and it’s true that if they’re a circus you definitely got your money’s worth that night.

Regrettably after going nearly non-stop I had to call it a night immediately following the LUTHI show.

Sunday

I woke up with a bit of a festival hangover (condition of seeing so many great acts in such a short time), but continued forth to start the day with one of the Battle of the Band qualifiers. As I’m not based in Knoxville I missed the actual battle, but I wanted to catch the sets of either the winner or one of the qualifiers, and I got my chance with The Sedonas set on Sunday.

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Upon seeing The Sedonas play I thought if this was just the qualifier how good was the winning band, because I was quite impressed by their sound! First of all they had probably the best guitarist at the festival in Ryan Sise, proven for me when they played one of the best Bob Dylan covers I’ve heard since Hendrix performed the song (“All Along the Watchtower” if you didn’t get that) and he nailed it! Fitting track to cover considering their original song “’Til I Say Amen” sounds like an ode to that era of rock, albeit perhaps more Steppenwolf style than Hendrix. James Connor Wike’s energy seems to harken from the 90s grunge era, and he used those strong vocals to add that extra power and oomph to the band’s sound. All while their bassist and drummer did an excellent job too driving the music.

Following their show I came in late to the Secret Show at Pretentious Beer Co., only to learn why you don’t come in late to Secret Shows, as I couldn’t barely make it in with the impressive crowd that showed up. I learned very soon why as the artist was in fact Sunday’s headliner to come Paul Thorn! Paul’s music really reminded me of what it’d be like to hear Randy Newman play John Prine songs, cause he had that songwriting craft they both have but with the bite and wit of Prine’s greats. I was only sad I couldn’t catch more of the show.

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I then stepped in to catch one of the shows that caught my eye on the program: The Brother Brothers. I found out 2 things right off 1) they are indeed brothers and 2) they are more than just a clever band name. In fact their traditionally inspired folk is downright haunting in the best of ways. Despite being in the largest interior venue at the festial, when they sang their harmonies I felt I’d hear a pin drop, as everyone was so still and silent so as to not miss a moment of their beautiful music. I’d say if you like classic soothing folks songs, be sure to check their music out.

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Lastly, as that concert weariness was turning into full blown exhaustion, I had to cut my Sunday short. So I decided to wrap up my festival experience with the band Art Smashes Records. Very quickly I could tell the band’s sound fit the mold of what my listening habits generally include, which is 1990’s/2000’s era pop rock/indie artists. I would not be surprised if we have some of the same favorite bands in common. I was definitely digging their set, and kept thinking this is a band going places. In fact I would not be surprised if their music starts playing on the local alternative rock stations, cause songs like “Old Dreams” and their latest “Disagreements” are tailor made for radio play. I loved getting the chance to see them as I wrapped up the festival, and I’m excited to see where they go next.

Conclusion

Overall Rhythm N’ Blooms was pretty much everything I loved about festivals, except maybe the cold and the rain. This weekend was a chance to see a myriad of fantastic artists really doing what they do best, along with passionate music fans such as myself. Thanks to Rhythm N’ Blooms care with their line-up too even among the artists I did not know, I found several quality acts that will now be in my playlists for years to come. I am now ready for that long nap I’ve yet to take, and I look forward to all the excitement to come for 2019’s festival!

Rhythm N’ Blooms 2018 Recap This was my first time returning to the festival since 2015 headliners The Decemberists brought me to the festival for one day.

#Alternative #Art #Concerts #Deer Tick #Dr. Dog #Knoxville #Live Music #Music #Photography #Reviews #Rhythm N&039; Blooms #Rock #Tennessee

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impvarjack60 · 7 years

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04 Setting Up

Another morning... Location?, somewhere in the Milky Way galaxy. That is all I'd know about my whereabouts for the next five years. I started the day by unpacking all the audio equipment and bringing it out to the living room, I sure hope they got all the cables, finding a patch cord near Betelgeuse may prove difficult. Solitude is something I'd grown accustom to on Earth. But I did have a companion of sorts, Olaf. I still can't for the life of me figure out why he picked that name, even if I thought about Frozen as often as I did. I could now leave that life behind, I was getting a fresh start. I just hope they saw fit to have a mate for me, maybe they picked out someone for me like a profile from a dating site. I always hated the idea of those places, I wanted to accidentally bump into the love of my life. I remember the woman I ran into when I was in line at the cable company to turn in all my TV crap and tell them where to cram it. She was a vision of middle age beauty, with emerald green toe nails. She was doing the same thing, and I couldn't resist starting a conversation with her. Of course she used the dreaded 'we' word, but I expected her to be married. She was one of the good ones. Still,... she was a delight to talk to, and at least I tried, baby steps. I spent the better part of three hours setting up my two stereo systems. One was designed for hard core rocking out, and the other was designed for late evening sessions with jazz or classical. One thing I hadn't considered until this point was the loud system was designed for my aging ears, I wondered what it'll sound like now that I have the ears of a two year old?

"Michael, the power pack will be here within minutes." "Thanks Olaf. But how will it get here?" "That way." I looked outside to see a simple rectangular shape that looked like a long tombstone land in the yard. I walked outside and as I approached the vessel the shield went down on it. On the platform was what looked like a power strip with no cord, and eight outlets that looked very normal, like it was purchased on Amazon, bet they wished they had some of these delivery platforms. Oh wait,... I bet Amazon is a distant memory for folks on Earth right now, and they'd be happy to just not starve.

So I plugged everything in and took a deep breath. If something broke there would be no repairing it out here, or so I thought. "Michael, if you don't mind, I'd like to hear the electron beam vacuum equipped system first, and I'd also like to deep scan everything." "Knock yourself out, Olaf" I think he knew what that meant. So I put some Coltrane on the tube system, turned on all the switches, and waited for the warm up. All the tubes lit up, that was a good sign. I set the needle in the groove and sweet music came forth. At least I'd have something to do, I haven't heard this stuff in a while.

Olaf seemed fascinated, well as fascinated as a metal ball could appear, anyhow. His laser scanners pored over every millimeter. For him this would be like unearthing some ancient dinosaur. "Olaf, can those beams penetrate to the interior?" "Yes, I'm recording all aspects of it's diagrammatic content and layout, plus measuring all voltages, currents, and frequency responses." "Good, hopefully you can manufacture parts if anything breaks." "By the results of this scan it should be possible." Well, that's a relief. I don't think there's a Radio Shack within twelve parsecs of here. ___________________________________________________________ Something had been gnawing at me all day, so I just blurted it out. "Olaf, Ive been wondering. Since my body has been rejuvenated, what's my life expectancy?" The dreaded pause; "Approximately two hundred and fifty years." "WAIT, WHAT?!!" "Like I eluded to earlier, Michael, your DNA is easily manipulated and repaired, there is some logic to our decision on picking your race." Holy shit!, not only did I stumble onto the fountain of youth, I'd get thrown immortality in as a bonus. Yea, I know two hundred and fifty years isn't immortal, but who the fuck wants to live forever? All good things come to an end, all.

_________________________________________________________

So we got our fill of the laid back stuff, it was time to crank up the 'Sand System' and rock out. So I picked the hairiest Hair Metal eighties record I had and set the volume to eleven. Olaf went up to every driver in the cabinets and checked each one out. I could tell the difference in my hearing, what once was loud is now ear splitting. I only listened to a couple of songs that way, I just got these ears fixed, and now they had to last another two hundred and thirty years. "So, Olaf, what do you think?" "These relics are amazing, Michael. But from what I gather from your database, loud music fell out of favor." "That's true, Olaf. This was the stuff of old people." When I was young we went to rock concerts that were twice as loud as this gear. We were the rebels, and old people didn't understand why we needed it so loud. But loud music is visceral, you can feel it, and in my older age, that helped. I think I was hearing at lot though my body that my ears could no longer catch. It saddened me that the bonding experience of twenty thousand people starring down fifty thousand watts of audio gear to get blasted out in a drug hazed orgy of sound would be something of the past, we thought it would last forever, but.....

All good things come to an end, all.

_________________________________________________________

Over the next few days I finished unpacking what little was left of my life. My laptop was here, but Googling anything was going to be difficult. "No internet connection available." Yea, no shit. Still, my stories were there, so I could at least read those, and I guess traveling on an alien spaceship across the galaxy should provide some ideas for my muse. but for now, I should just do a journal. Tools. Hmm, I wonder why they got those. With replicators, what was there to build? At the bottom of the last one, they had slipped in the one remaining piece of my Frozen collection. It was a solid plastic figurine of Anna, in her coronation day dress. Oh, how I had longed to dance and twirl with her in that ballroom. Really I wanted to learn ballroom dancing anyway. The idea of getting dressed up in fancy clothes, and spending an evening with the one you love face to face, holding each other and spinning about had fascinated me forever. Society had other plans and this activity had fallen out of favor. Now it was just considered 'gay'.

All good things come to an end, all.

_________________________________________________________

I took out my laptop, went to the veranda, and popped it open. I starred at the blank screen and nothing would come. Anna was the driving force of my writing, it looks as though those days are over. I really needed to start over, this tremendous gift had been handed to me. But as I sit here starring out over this breathtaking landscape I have to wonder what's in store for me? What will this new chapter in life be like, and who will I do it with? Within a week I would find out, and it would be the shock of my life.

All good thi..., screw that. This is a beginning.

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kosa12-blog · 7 years

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Inside Miley Cyrus' Journey From "Lunatic Pop Princess" to Just Being Miley Again

Miley Cyrus is once again atop the pop charts, doing a hoedown dance on the beach in her new music video for "Malibu," a whimsical song showing off the softer side of a singer who for several years projected an image that was anything but soft. Gone are the nipple pasties, naked wrecking ball riding, and that infamous masturbating foam finger from the 2013 VMAs. Instead, we now see a turtleneck sweater, floating balloons and the manicured fingers of a 24-year-old pop star who has reinvented herself by going back to the mainstream roots that made her a Disney darling in the mid-to-late 2000s. In the autobiographical "Malibu," Miley sings, "I never would've believed you if three years ago you told me I'd be here writing this song, but here I am." Few would have believed the "Can't Be Tamed" singer would tame herself so quickly—and her image U-turn is working. Miley Cyrus' Wildest Concert Pics In fact, it already stands as one of the most thorough pop music reboots since Taylor Swift ditched her acoustic guitar and country twang to become a slick pop princess. Here's how Miley completed her transformation: 1. She Figured Out What—or Who—She Wanted: Following her high-profile breakup with fiancé Liam Hemsworth in 2013, Miley had a fling with Kellan Lutz,made out with Cara Delevingne and dated both Patrick Schwarzenegger and Stella Maxwell on the road to becoming an outspoken advocate for doing away with labels when it comes to sexuality. She reunited with Liam last year and they quickly shacked up in a compound in Malibu, a romantic reset that became part of her creative inspiration for the new album. "Liam one hundred percent has settled her down," a friend of the couple tells E! News. "I think Miley realized that she pushed him away and she regretted it. She doesn't want to make that same mistake again." However, Miley has said that painting her new single—and her personal turnaround—simply as a Disney-esque, saved-by-the-prince scenario is not entirely accurate. On Tuesday she told radio host Elvis Duran: "People have to give me some credit too because sometimes when I read write-ups of this song, it's like, 'You can tell that there's the leading man in there that really brought her feet down to the ground.' And those were changes that I really made and I think as a woman, I always want to take that power back and say, 'Hey, I did that!' I made a decision to say, 'Hey this is what I want,' and anything that I want, I'm going to put my entire heart and brain into and make it happen." Miley Cyrus Reflects on 2013 Split From Liam Hemsworth: I Got Time to Grow Up 2. She Got Sober: Earlier this month, Miley, who in the past has taken no pains to hide her regular use of marijuana, told Billboard, "I like to surround myself with people that make me want to get better, more evolved, open. And I was noticing, it's not the people that are stoned. I want to be super clear and sharp, because I know exactly where I want to be." Cutting down on pot was a dramatic shift that surprised many—even those closest to her. "Miley had been smoking pot going back to her teens, and it had become part of her entire persona," a source says. 'I was shocked she quit cold turkey like that, but we all felt like she had gone too far with it and it's healthy that she has dialed it back." Miley recently admitted in an interview that her extreme behavior was her way of rebelling after spending her middle and high school years working every day alongside her father— and her grandmother as her keeper. She explained on the Zach Sang Show, "So that was a lot of time spent, dad and grandma, which is why when I turned 18, you wondered why I was twerking at the Juicy J show. I just spent 10 years every day with my dad and grandma. I had to break free." Miley Cyrus Celebrates the Release of Malibu by Watching Her Hannah Montana Audition Tape 3. She reintroduced herself to Middle America: Miley insiders tell E! News that her mom, Tish, and her management team strongly urged Miley to do a stint as a coach on season 11 of the hit NBC show The Voice. At the time, Miley portrayed the TV gig as simply something fun to do and an effort to help mentor budding artists. But behind the scenes, E! News has learned, was a broader PR strategy. By the time she joined the show last summer, Miley had been already working on her new-sound album, her new look and her more mainstream image—and being a less radical personality in America's living rooms set up her eventual retro-'00s comeback. 4. She Cleaned Up Her Social Media Profile: Bong hits. Freeing the nipple. Bizarre collages and crafting. Often times, going on Miley's Instagram was like taking an acid trip—or a trip to a strip club. Now, that's all behind her. The last time followers were graced with a pic showing her smoking was a grand total of 17 weeks ago when she threw a marijuana-themed birthday party for Liam and sister Noah Cyrus. But the new year has otherwise brought a new Miley, with her racy shots being replaced by cute snaps of her with her sister and mother, posing with radio hosts on her promo tour, enjoying sunsets and engaging in made-for-Instagram pastimes like lying in the grass with her dog. 5. Her Music Went Mainstream—Again: Close your eyes and listen to "Malibu" and the breezy tune sounds like it easily could have been on 2009's Hannah Montana: The Movie soundtrack. It's certainly a far cry from her 2015 album, Miley Cyrus and Her Dead Petz, which was, at best, a fearlessly experimental effort in psychedelic rock and, at worst, a virtually unlistenable string of tracks that alienated many fans who missed their old Miley. At the time, Rolling Stone branded Miley "the lunatic pop princess." But her fans have enjoyed the resurrection of the pre-Bangerz singer. As @yenniepenny, one of her Instagram followers, recently commented: "welcome back Miley!!" For more of the inside story on Miley's journey, tune into E! News tonight at 7 p.m. & 11 p.m.

#Lunatic #Princess #Inside #Miley #Cyrus'#Journey #Being #Again

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