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some-dr-writings · 4 years

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Gundham’s and Kazuichi’s mangaka S/O wants to draw them

Gundham Tanaka:

· Though you were the Super High School Level Mangaka you specialized in historical fantasy! You absolutely adored doing research and finding new mythical beasts and species to sketch and incorporate into your work. It was no surprise that Gundham became your muse the moment you two met!

· Gundham would allow you to visit his creatures and draw them to use as bases for cryptids and monsters of all sorts in your manga. The four Dark Devas often acted as your pose models given how unusually animated they were for hamsters.

· Having asked the Overlord of Ice to allow you near his animals so often you spent much time together and eventually started dating.

· “My Queen, the Stringer of Fates, what curse dares to plague your soul?! You’ve not touched the pages with which you create and destroy worlds, as if it were deadly to do so! You’ve yet to search out a demon to immortalize. Not even have you greeted the four Dark Devas of Destruction as you always have.” You huffed lazily watching the rabbit Gundham was currently grooming. “Artists’ block. I can’t seem to draw or write anything. Either I just stare at a blank page for hours, or I start something which quickly dissolves into an incoherent mess!” Rubbing your temples, you grumbled at the clogged feeling fogging your mind. “I did pull a few all-nighters last week. Maybe I’m just drained. But if things keep going like this, I’ll miss my deadline! I already asked for an extension on it last week, I can’t keep doing this!”

· Gundham watched as you picked up the sketch pad and pencil. There was this stiffness in your movements. Your hand which once flowed about gracefully like a bird in flight now paved plain straight lines. Your eyes darted about unable to focus on anything. “UGH! I can’t even draw a proper circle for the rabbit’s body!” Sinking into your seat you tossed your sketch pad and pencil aside. “Perhaps a day of respite is in order.” “No, I already took a day off yesterday. I feel I’m even worse now than I was two day ago.”

· The Devas quickly scurried over to you, hopping into your lap, or climbing onto your shoulder to nuzzle your cheek. “… thanks.” Gently petting the two in your lap you sighed in defeat.

· It was at that Gundham abruptly stood up. “Where is my Queen, and what have you done with her, villain?!” “… Huh?” “MY Queen would never rot away so quickly into a decrepit state such as this! She’d fight and claw till her final breath! She’d never faulter so easily!” “I Am, your Queen.” “Hmph! No, you are not. Now, tell me where she is.” You marched right up to Gundham glaring at him. “I’m right here! I am your Queen, the Stringer of Fates!”

· It started as a chuckle which boomed into uproarious laughter! “There you are. That determination, your will to live has returned to your eyes. I am glad to have you back.” Surprisingly, you did feel like you had more energy than before. “So, shall we be off? A piece of you is still missing and we must search it out less you start to fade away once more.” “… Yeah, a date sounds nice right now.”

· As a bright blush dusted his cheeks, the Overlord of Ice took your hand into his bandaged one, the other taking your bag of sketch supplies, he led you out of the school grounds into the great beyond!

· The day was filled with fun and laughter as you raced from place to place, doing anything you could think of. A walk in the park, a trip to the arcade, lunch at a café, shopping at a bookstore, and anything else you could have dreamed of.

· As the sun began to set, Gundham and you found yourselves at the clear beach, dancing around barefoot, not a care in the world. “… Gundham. Thank you, today was amazing.” His entire face instantaneously flushed hearing his true name being called. In that moment he just looked so beautiful to you. His sheepish smile, those tender eyes, just, everything about him.

· “May I draw you?” “… Of course, my Queen.”

· And thus you drew, having completely forgotten that morning or the past few days, you were struggling.

· “Ah! Your depiction captured my true form! I should have known you could see through my mortal guise!” He so happily admired your drawing with sparkling eyes.

· While he was distracted you worked on another piece, one of a dark king holding his queen close on the soft shores of the beach.

Kazuichi Soda:

· You never held much interest in machinery till you came to Hope’s Peak and met Kazuichi. It seemed just about every time you saw him, he was tinkering with something, from a small robot toy to a monster truck engine. Often times the parts of whatever he was working on were spread out, and then seeing how they all fit together fascinated you. Without realizing it you’d end up just watching him work for hours and sketching out the pieces and tools he was using.

· Quickly this fascination bled into your own work, incorporating steampunk-esque elements into it. And the more elements you added, the more references you needed. At first you tried getting some on your own, but you’d just end up injuring your hands and fingers in some way or you’d break the pieces.

· “Look, you got me into this mess and now you have to take responsibility.” “W-what!?” Before Kazuichi could panic you placed an old, rusted pocket watch before him. “How do I disassemble this!?” For a week or two after you’d bring some new item to Kazuichi to disassemble and reassemble. You eagerly sketched out the pieces you needed the references of and more.

· Quickly you and Kazuichi became friends. You would chatter away as you did your own things. Before you knew it the two of you ended up spending time together just to be together, no drawing and no tinkering.

· Kazuichi would go to you for advice for his unrequited crush on Princess Sonia to which you’d try your best to help, even if it did hurt a little given your crush on the mechanic. She wasn’t the only thing he spoke of though, so you had plenty of other conversations.

· Kazuichi certainly liked chatting so when one day he was quiet you got a bit worried… Then you remembered something. “Oh Soda. You’ve never been on a school trip before, right?” “Hmm, uh, yeah. I skipped out on the only one I got a chance to go on.” “Because of financial issues, right.” “Yeah.” “Well, I happen to be going on a trip all over Europe for background references and I was thinking who better to take along than my best friend and best mechanic I know!” The news certainly perked him right up, and he excitedly chattered on about traveling! Quickly the news spread, and it ended up becoming a class trip! Honestly, though a trip alone with Soda sounded lovely, you more enjoyed seeing how ecstatic he was to be going on an actual class trip with everyone.

· The trip was fantastic, it seemed to be nonstop fun. Often you’d forget that you were being payed to go on this trip for work and that you needed to get reference materials, thankfully Mikan took more than enough reference photos for you.

· Though during the trip, you noticed how Kazuichi, though still friendly, was a bit more reserved than usual. When you asked him what was wrong, he said he appreciated the concern, but it was something he had to work out on his own.

· Eventually your trip took you all to France the city of love. The place was certainly an artist’s dream, you found yourself drawing nonstop there. It was amazing!

· At one point in your trip your class wanted to get to a restaurant at the top of a rather large hill, but the only way to get there was via a thin road by car. So, you, Kazuichi, Sonia and your driver were the last to get to the restaurant.

· Then the car broke down. Kazuichi immediately went to check the engine while Sonia stood at the edge of the road, looking out at the sunset. It was a gorgeous sight, her profile, the sunset, the city lights, everything. You had started sketching out the scenery when a though struck you.

· You elbowed Kazuich, gaining his attention. You then leaned in real close while still looking at Sonia, not noticing the blush spreading on his cheeks as he kept looking to you. “Hey Soda, now’s your chance. This view is absolutely romantic, and you’re in the city of love. Don’t you think this is the perfect time to ask out the girl you like?” This hurt, it really did, but seeing how happy he was to be going on a school trip without worry like he always wanted, you could hardly imagine his joy if Sonia got together with him at a time like this. It hurt, but you just wanted to see him happy.

· “… Ask out the girl I like, huh…… Okay.”

· Turning to you he placed his hands atop your shoulders. “Y/N I have a crush on you. Please go out on a date with me.” “… Wait? I thought… what about Nevermind?” “I, well, yeah, I do like her, but… I really like you… I… That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out lately and... so I... You get it, don’t you!?” “… Soda, please let me draw you!” “Huh?” “Well, if we start going out, we’ll be boyfriend and girlfriend, right? I’d like to have something to commemorate the moment by.” “S/O!” He pulled you into a tight hug, giddy out of his mind.

· You ended up drawing him at the restaurant. He loved the drawing so much he took a picture to use as his phone’s lock screen. From then on you often drew him for references for poses and though all great, his favorite would forever be the first one you made of him. It was made to celebrate you getting together, it was always so special to him.

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daveyjacobss · 4 years

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i’ve waited my whole life

jack kelly x davey jacobs

summary: i want to drive away with you, i want your complications too

(or: jack and davey get caught in a blizzard on the way to the jacobs’ for hanukkah)

a/n: happy hanukkah everyone!! it’s 10:26 pm here which means i officially finished this in time for the first night of hanukkah!!! hope you all enjoy this, as always - i’d love to hear your reactions :) (& yes the title is from paper rings by taylor swift and there will hopefully be a holiday themed mini series with other taylor swift lyrics and other ships)

also - the spacing/formatting of this is showing up really weird for me, so sorry if it shows up like that for you too :/

ao3 | masterlist

__________

It started snowing only a little bit before Jack and Davey left their shared apartment and got into their car. It was just a few flurries, nothing too much to worry about. At least, that's what the weather forecast had said. So they headed out with no worries on their mind, singing loudly to the songs on Jack's playlist. Jack was behind the wheel because Davey was too anxious of a driver, and Jack hadn't wanted to stress him out at all. Which he wasn't, or at least it didn't seem like it. Which was good, obviously. Even if Jack himself was maybe, possibly, more anxious than he'd ever been.

They were on their way to Davey's parents house, with the intention of spending the entire of Hanukkah there. Jack wasn't Jewish, but after so many years of knowing Davey and being welcomed into his family he was fairly familiar with their traditions. And, really, none of that should have made him anxious in the slightest - because he knew Davey's family. He loved the Jacobs, and they loved him. Davey had already made several comments about how excited Les would be to hang out with Jack (the kid practically idolized him) and he and Sarah were good friends, despite the fact that she was dating Jack's sort of ex-girlfriend. (They were fine, though. The break up was mutual, and Katherine and him were still close.) Davey's parents were happy to have him, they always had been from the minute he had befriended Davey back in high school. And he wasn't an anxious driver like Davey. Actually, driving came naturally to him, just like painting. So there was no reason for him to be so stressed.

Except he was. And maybe there was a small, minuscule, barely-there reason. For example, the fact that it had only been a week since Jack had realized that he was in love with his best friend, AKA the guy seated next to him passionately singing along to Paper Rings. Jack wanted to lean over and kiss him senseless, to hell with safe driving. He did not do that, obviously, but the thought was there, and it made him anxious.

They had been watching some Hallmark Christmas movie together on the couch when it happened. They both adored those stupid films, entertaining themselves by making comments and jokes, criticizing every action each character took. The main protagonist in the movie they'd been watching had done something particularly idiotic, and Jack made a comment about how it was dumber than that time Race and Albert has decided to test out whether their tongues would actually stick to a frozen pole. Davey has burst out laughing, spilling some the popcorn out of the bowl that had been resting on his lap. Jack looked over with a smug smile, proud of his joke, but it fell away quickly. Watching as Davey laughed, the light from the TV screen illuminating his face, took Jack's breath away. He looked so...so.... beautiful. And then that was all he could think about, just how fucking gorgeous Davey Jacobs was. Davey seemed none the wiser to Jack's heart-stopping epiphany. But Jack was suddenly hyper aware of how close they were sitting, sharing the same blanket and eating popcorn out of the same bowl, legs touching. He couldn't get himself to pay attention to the rest of the movie, his breath hitching each time Davey moved. Davey fell asleep only a little bit after the next movie started, his head falling on Jack's shoulder.

Jack wanted to run to the window, open it, and scream endlessly into the abyss of the night sky. He could not have a crush on Davey, of all people. Not after all these years of strictly platonic feelings. Except, maybe they hadn't been. The longer he sat there with Davey's head on his shoulder, the more he realized just how long he had been harboring feelings for his roommate. And, with that, came the realization that those feelings were not simply a crush.

So as Davey laughed his way through songs and the snow steadily began to pick up, Jack was extremely anxious. He didn't know how to act around Davey anymore. Try as he might, nothing he said or did felt right. Nothing felt normal. Davey could tell something was off, Jack knew he could, but he was merciful enough to leave it be. Jack joined him in singing along with a Mumford & Sons song, hoping that he didn't look as distraught as he felt. More than anything, he was terrified that Katherine and Sarah would see right through him. They would know.

They were about an hour into the drive when Jack started to grow worried about the snow. The windshield wipers were working like crazy, and they could only see so far ahead of the car. Davey, ever the sensible one, unplugged Jack's phone and switched to a radio channel announcing weather reports. The radio anchor's voice filled the car, somewhat disrupted (which Jack assumed was due to the storm they were driving through).

"No one could have predicted this blizzard!" The guy said, sounding cheerful. Davey and Jack exchanges worried glances, but kept quiet so they could keep listening. "Due to the poor visibility out on the roads, all drivers are being urged to find somewhere to park or pullover, and hopefully make it inside."

"Great," Jack quipped sarcastically, trying to sound unfazed. Davey whipped out his phone, presumably looking up places near them that they could go. Without thinking, Jack reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. The last thing he wanted was Davey having a panic attack because of the snow. Jack was a good enough driver, and it wasn't as if they were driving in the middle of nowhere - there was bound to be somewhere they could go. Davey shot him a grateful look before returning his gaze to his phone, sitting up straighter within a few seconds.

"Okay, at the next light we come to turn right. There's a diner not too far down the road and the website says they're open." Jack nodded in affirmation, slowing to a stop at the red light as he turned on his turn signal. The turn itself was bit bumpy, their tires slipping a little on the snow. Davey drew in a sharp breath and his hand shot out to grip tightly onto Jack's arm. Jack hated how his heart skipped a beat at the contact.

The diner in question came into view rather quickly, a warm yellow and red sign composed of neon lights informing them that it was called Frank's. Jack pulled into the parking lot fairly easily, parking in the closest spot to the building available. There was only two other cars in the small lot, so they assumed they wouldn't be getting too much company while they were there. They both zipped up their jackets all the way and did everything they could to cover every inch of themselves to stay protected from the cold. Davey took a deep breath and then looked over at Jack.

"Okay," he said, muffled due to the fact that the bottom of his face was tucked into the neck of his coat. "Let's do this."

They opened their respective car doors and jumped out as quick as they could, slamming the doors behind them as they made a break for the entrance to the building. They burst through doors panting with a gust of wind right behind them. A girl around their age, maybe a little older, looked up from where she stood behind the counter, drinking from a mug. She raised an eyebrow at them with a somewhat amused grin.

"Suppose you boys are looking for somewhere to escape the storm?" She asked, a slight drawl in her voice that made it sound like she had grown up in the south. Jack nodded in response, flexing his hands to try and bring some warmth into his hands. "Well, take any table you like," she instructed. "I'll go grab you some menus." She retreated through a door to what Jack assumed was the kitchen in the back. He followed Davey's lead to a booth by the windows, sliding into the seat opposite him.

"Damn," he sighed, looking out at the snow. "Guess we're gonna be late." Davey let out a very unattractive snort that Jack should not have found endearing in the slightest (except he did).

"Yeah, I'd say so," Davey smiled. The girl returned then, saving Jack from getting too lost in Davey's eyes. Now that she was out from behind the counter, heading toward their booth with menus in hand, he could see that she was wearing a yellow 50s style uniform. It was cute and, as he looked around, he realized that it matched the aesthetic of the rest of the diner as well. There was a jukebox against one of the walls and photos and posters from the 50s scattered through the place. Jack was filled with the urge to sketch it, but all of the art supplies he had brought with him were back in the car.

When the waitress reached their table she laid the menus out in front of them and Jack was able to read on her name tag that her name was Maria.

"Alright, so right now we're technically serving the lunch menu," she pointed to the middle section of Davey's menu, "but we serve breakfast all day, and if y'all want something from the dinner menu, that's fine. Not like we're getting much other business today." She shrugged with an easy smile. "Can I start you off with some drinks? Normally I'd recommend the milkshakes but, well..." she gesture out the window and Jack gave a little laugh. She smiled sweetly at him in response.

"You know what?" He asked. "I'll still take a milkshake. Black and white, please."

"And for you, doll?" She turned Davey. Jack watched as his cheeks tinted pink at the nickname and simultaneously wanted to tease him and tell Maria to back off (not that he had any right to do that, but he wanted to be the one making Davey blush).

"I'll have a Oreo milkshake, please," he spoke quietly.

"Sure thing," she grinned at the both of them. "They'll be right out."

They sat in silence for a few moments, simply enjoying the peaceful atmosphere of the diner. Jack watched Davey's face as the other man gazed at the falling snow with an almost childlike wonder. He had always known that Davey was the out-of-this-world type beautiful, even from the first moment he saw him - but what he hadn't realized was that, overtime, those foreign elements of beauty had instead become familiar and comforting, giving him a new type of artistry. His eyes, once mysterious, were now read as easily as a book. He hadn't realized how long he had simply been ogling at Davey until Maria came back with their shakes in hand.

"Here ya go," she grinned, setting their glasses down in front of them. Her smile turned sheepish as they both grinned back at her. "Would y'all mind if I just hung out in the kitchen for now? My girlfriend's back there making food for us." A warm feeling bloomed in Jack's chest. No matter how old he got, he didn't think he would ever get past the joy that came with hearing someone else talk so casually about not being straight.

"It's no problem at all," Davey said at the same time as Jack opened his mouth to say "Of course."

"Thank you," Maria beamed. "If y'all need anything you have full permission to go into the kitchen." With that, she was practically skipping off.

"Well, that was nice" Davey chuckled softly. Jack focused on his milkshake so as not to find himself captivated by the way Davey's face had softened at the mention of the waitress's girlfriend.

__________

They'd been at the diner for a few hours, talking and playing games to pass the time. They hadn't seen a lot of Maria, but they had met her girlfriend, Abigail, who had greeted them with one of the biggest, friendliest smiles Jack had ever seen.

"Okay, so," Jack began. "In the future, would you rather there be flying cards or actual hoverboards like in Back to the Future?" Davey, who was laying on one of the booth seat with his head hanging upside down facing Jack laying in a booth opposite him, tilted his head with a questioning look on his face.

"Are there hoverboards in Back to the Future?" He asked. Jack took a pause to think.

"Pretty sure, yeah. 'S been a while since I've seen it."

"I don't think I've watched it since I was a kid and my parents showed it to me and Sarah."

"We're getting off topic here, Dave." Davey's cheeks went rosy in response to the nickname and Jack grinned.

"Alright, I suppose I'd want flying cars," Davey finally answered.

"Why?"

"I'd probably fall off of a hoverboard, to be honest." Jack burst out laughing at his answer, and Davey smiled at him when he did.

"Oh, you definitely would!" Jack giggled. "You'd call right on your face, oh my god!" Davey sat up to grab a napkin of the table before crumbling it up and throwing it at Jack. It hit him right on the forehead and his laughter only increased in volume, Davey joining in.

"Okay, okay," Davey heaved, still catching his breath. "In the future." Jack motioned for him to continue, still slightly laughing. "In the future, how many kids do you want?"

"Not sure I want any really, not when I'm basically already a father for all of the boys," Jack smirked. Davey smiled fondly at him.

"Don't think that's gonna work," Davey chuckled. "I've already got tons of baby name options for us." He smiled at Jack, all bright eyes and messy hair and flushed cheeks with the snowy world in the window behind him and just from looking at it Jack could tell it was so, so cold but Davey was right there and he was nothing but warmth.

Us.

Jack couldn't breath.

And Davey was still just sat there, smiling at him like he hadn't just sent Jack's heart running directly out of his chest.

"Us?" He finally managed to ask, voice barely even a whisper. Davey's smile dropped and his blush deepened, his eyes immediately leaving Jack's face in favor of staring at the wall to his right. "David," Jack tried again, voice a little bit stronger. "What did you by 'us'?" Davey glanced quickly at him before looking away again as if his life depended on it.

"I just-" He started, but his voice gave out on him slightly and he paused to breath, and then gulped in a cartoonish way that Jack would have teased him about at any other time. "Whenever I think about the future, I think about us. Together." Davey's face was red to a concerning degree and his hands were shaking and fidgeting in a way that made it clear to Jack that his anxiety was kicking in at full force. But Jack wasn't supposed to be someone that Davey got anxious around, he was supposed to be the one who kept Davey grounded, who held his hand when he needed a physical anchor and counted his breaths for him. Davey was sat there, all bright eyes and messy hair and flushed cheeks. He was beautiful and familiar and warm and he was home. And Jack was so unbelievably irreversibly in love with him.

Davey opened his mouth to start speaking again, but before he even got the chance Jack had crossed the space between their opposite booths and had practically tackled him down into the cushioned booth seat.

Kissing Davey was easy. Kissing Davey was breathtaking and warm and fuzzy and happy. Kissing Davey was all Jack had wanted to do for years, even if he hadn't known it. And Davey was kissing him back. Davey was grabbing his shoulders and his hair and pulling closer and Jack could kiss him for the rest of time and never grow tired of it. They were in the middle of a blizzard in a 50s themed diner, laying down tangled up in one of the booths, and it wasn't where Jack had pictured it happening. In all of his daydreams, he'd never pictured where they would end up - where it would happen. But when they pulled apart and they were both panting and Davey beamed up after him with a look of pure elation Jack didn't even give it a second thought before saying it.

“I'm in love with you."

Davey's smile only widened as he pulled Jack in for another kiss.

"I'm in love with you too, you dork." Jack laughed and then so did Davey and everything felt so absolutely right. They spent the rest of their time in the diner cuddled up in that booth, talking quietly with flushed cheeks and ecstatic smiles.

When the storm cleared enough for it to be safe to get back on the road, they bid Maria and Abigail a cheerful goodbye. The car ride the rest of the way to Davey's parents' house was charged with a new type of energy. They debated whether or not to tell everyone right away, given they had quite literally just gotten together, and decided against saying anything immediately - if only because they wanted to see whether Sarah or Katherine would figure it out first.

And, despite his normal anxiousness on the road, Davey held Jack's hand the whole time.

_________

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#javid #jack kelly x davey jacobs #newsies #javid fic #newsies fic #bambi can kinda write

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keeroo92 · 5 years

Text

Be My Nightmare Ch3

For He Saw That Life Lived Upon Death

Warning - this chapter includes graphic descriptions of murder, of a family including a young girl. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

Word count - 5,263

__________________________

You cracked your neck and sighed as you finished typing up your notes. The two sketches sat on your desk, waiting to be scanned into the computer. It made you squeamish to imagine Dr. Malphas knowing the artist had used you as a subject, but you weren’t sure if you dared to omit that detail. It went against everything you’d been taught.

Still… even to think it felt wrong. Was it even relevant to V’s treatment? He’d only used your face because you were available, hadn’t he?

You pursed your lips. It was too soon to imagine why the man did anything, let alone why he chose his muses. This shouldn’t be such an issue; it was obvious what was required of you. It didn’t matter how intimate if felt for him to draw you, how personal it was to see your face on that page.

You glanced at it again. He really was gifted. The smudged charcoal would’ve made your mother smile; hell, she would’ve framed the damn thing.

I can’t put that in the system… I just can’t.

If anyone ever found out, you’d lose your job. Possibly be fined or lose your license. Omitting details… Not a light offense. But who would know? There weren’t any cameras in your office, so unless V blabbed there was no way anyone would find out. Even if he did speak, the man was in an asylum. It would be your word versus his, and not a soul alive would take his over yours.

You slid open a drawer and pulled out an empty folder, hiding the sketch within. You’d take it home, just to lower the risk.

Minutes later, you sent in your summary and powered down the desktop with a tired smile. As interesting as it turned out to be, the week had left you drained. A glass of wine before bed sounded nice, a little reward for the madness. You grabbed your purse and carefully stowed the sketch inside, grateful you carried such a large bag as you stood to leave.

“Hey, Dr. Waras!” a familiar voice called from the doorway. Dr. Ishida.

You smiled and flicked off your desk lamp. She was an old friend, a colleague you occasionally grabbed drinks and compared notes with. Like you, she specialized in extreme cases. Unlike you, she hated it.

“Hey! How are you, Kotomi?”

She grinned as you joined her in the hallway. Her sleek ebony hair shimmered in the florescent lighting and it reminded you of V’s shiny locks.

“I’m good, how about you? I heard you got a pretty intense one,” she replied with a grimace.

You almost laughed. “Yeah, had my first session with him today.”

Her heels clicked on the linoleum as you headed for the security checkpoint. “And?”

Ben buzzed the two of you through and you shot him a smile, waving goodnight at him as you passed. “He seems interesting, should be a fun case.”

Kotomi made a face. “You have a weird sense of the word ‘fun’, my friend. Didn’t he attack someone when he got here?”

She hit the elevator button and you sighed. If she’d just wear flat shoes, the stairs wouldn’t be an issue. Personally, you hated waiting for the damn slow elevator, especially at the end of the workday.

“Yeah, he had a knife. Nobody was seriously hurt, though,” you replied. She shuddered and you found yourself wondering, not for the first time, how she ended up working here.

“Lucky. From what Kevin told me it could’ve been pretty bad!”

“I guess. What about you, have a good week?”

She grinned, always happy to talk about something other than your more violent patients. “Yeah, actually! I had a breakthrough with Miss Andrews, I think next week she might make some big strides!”

The elevator dinged its arrival and her chatter filled the air all the way to the ground floor. Rob buzzed you into the lobby and you took a deep breath of fresh air as you left the building. Kotomi was still rambling and you smirked. She was a good friend but sometimes got carried away. You wondered when she’d realize you were heading for your car, and her parking spot was in the opposite direction.

“Anyway, any fun plans this weekend?” she asked. You clicked your keys and opened the driver’s side door with a laugh.

“No, just catching up on some TV. Assuming I don’t get called in, of course.”

She cringed. Since you took most of the worst patients, it had been a long time since she’d been called in for an emergency with one of hers, but for you it happened regularly.

“Well, I’m back that way. I’ll see you Monday!”

You waved as she turned away, shaking your head at her antics and starting the car. The radio was in the middle of a familiar song and you hummed along with the chorus as you got into gear.

Then your phone rang.

You frowned and fished it from your purse, tapping the screen to accept the familiar call. “What’s the problem?”

“Your new patient is having a fit, are you close?”

“Yeah, I haven’t left the parking lot yet. How bad is it?”

Aaron never bothered you unless it was serious, but you liked to know what you were in for. You switched the car back off.

“Hard to say for sure, he’s just shouting something and we can’t get close enough to sedate him.”

“All right, I’ll be right up.”

You hung up and grinned. Whatever was going on sounded interesting. Within seconds, you were waving at Rob once more as he buzzed you back inside. The elevator was already at ground level so you indulged yourself, sparing your calves from three flights of stairs. The doors were barely open when you heard V’s shouting.

“For he saw that life lived upon death!”

You raced to the security gate and didn’t even glance at Ben as he buzzed you into the patient’s quarters area. The artist repeated the same words over and over and as you reached the door to his room you heard a loud crash. Aaron was just inside, along with two other orderlies. They had V backed against the wall, his eyes wild and darting. He looked right through them, unseeing as he repeated the same phrase once again.

“For he saw that life lived upon death!”

The three men stepped closer as one, trying to reach the incoherent man without incident. He didn’t react to their movement and they took another step. You watched with bated breath.

“For he saw that life lived upon death!”

What the hell was he even talking about? His words had the ring of importance, why else would he repeat them? You pulled out your phone, keeping one eye on the tense situation as you typed his words into the search bar and hit enter.

William Blake? What the fuck?

You glanced back at the confrontation just in time to see the three men close in on the artist and drag him to his bed. He didn’t seem to be aware of what was happening, still shouting the same phrase as they strapped him back into the restraints. How had he even gotten loose in the first place? Had someone set him free?

“For he saw that life lived upon death!”

Once the straps were nice and tight, the orderlies stepped back. Aaron waved you inside as the two others left, leaving the head of security to see if you needed him. He rubbed a palm over his face and sighed.

“Should I sedate him? He hasn’t hurt himself, but…”

You stepped closer to the artist, staring into his vacant eyes. Where was he? What was he seeing? Would he remember once he settled down again?

Doubtful.

Fuck.

“I’ll stay with him and call if he needs sedation. He might say something useful,” you explained. Aaron nodded and took his leave, probably on his way out for the evening.

You pulled out the same seat as when you first met the poor soul before you and sat down to listen.

“For he saw that life lived upon death!”

---V---

The trill of the child’s laugh was what sealed her family’s fate. So sweet, so innocent and pure. He had to make them understand that such naivete was a crime. It was up to him to punish her foolishness.

He followed them to their ocean-colored home from the grocery store and waited, biding his time until the quaint building was silent in the night. It took hours and his legs cramped where he crouched hidden in the shrubs with his absurdly heavy duffel bag. A nice neighborhood, full of young families and retired couples. The park across the street featured a playset and several chess boards, a blend of the needs of the locals. He smirked – soon enough, none would dare venture out alone.

At last, the shadows fit his needs. Darkness hid his approach and his eyes gleamed as he picked the lock. A skill learned only last month, but that already led to untold delights. He hefted his duffel bag high and slipped inside, locking the door behind him.

He prowled up the stairs, careful to keep his steps light and balanced. It wouldn’t do to reveal himself yet. Photos lined the ascent, smile filled snapshots of the young family arranged in a pleasing pattern. He resisted the temptation to rip them off the yellow plaster.

The first door led to a linen closet and he closed it with a quiet huff. The next, a bathroom stuffed with childish toys and soaps. He didn’t bother looking for long. He had to be close now, only three doors remained.

He grinned as the third door revealed a king-sized bed with two occupants – the parents. The father snored, his arms resting over his wife’s waist in a comforting embrace. Her face was relaxed and peaceful, not yet aware of the horrors about to begin. His fingers twitched in excitement and he backed away to find the child. Nothing else would ensure their cooperation.

He sneered in derision as he opened the child’s door. Her bedroom had a nightlight, a feeble attempt to keep the monsters of the night at bay. Pink and purple lines covered the walls, posters of unicorns and assorted foolishness breaking the pattern here and there. Dolls and a child-sized kitchen playset dominated the floor, stuffed animals on the shelf mixed with slim books.

But the bed was empty. Not good.

He stepped into the room and listened. If she was there, her youthful mind would undoubtedly be unable to keep her fear silent. Children were terrible at hiding, especially when it mattered most. A low gasp rewarded him as he stalked to the center of the room – she was hiding in the closet.

The door opened with barely a touch to reveal a tiny form huddled in the shadows. Her arms were crossed over a teddy, legs trembling in fright as her wet eyes met his. A filthy dark spot spread between her legs as he crouched to her level with a threatening smirk, and she squeaked as he reached out to pat her head.

“It’s alright, little one. Shall we go wake your parents?”

Her terror was delicious. A shadow of his past self screamed at him to stop, but it was too faint and weak to matter. Slim fingers wrapped around her narrow biceps and picked up her light body, bringing her to rest in his deceptively lean arms. Her shaking chest was a dark thrill as he carried her to her parents’ room. They were just as he’d left them, oblivious to their impending doom.

“Call to them, darling,” he whispered to the child. She shook her head. Stubborn little minx.

He pinched her, hard. Her tiny mouth opened in a pained wail, pained tears spilling down her cheeks. If only she knew what was to come…

“Becca?” the mother called sleepily. She rose with a startled gasp, hand reaching out to shake her husband awake as she saw the threat. He woke with an annoyed groan, reluctant to open his eyes despite her insistent prodding.

“What the hell, Amy?” he murmured.

The mother, Amy, didn’t speak. She only continued her poking with wide eyes locked on the dark figure holding her child at the foot of the bed. He could almost taste her panic, hear the rapid beating of her heart and he licked his lips. At last, the father sat up with a huff of resignation.

“Ian…” the woman said, and finally the father saw what was so pressing.

“Fuck!” he cried.

V shifted the child in his arms and drew the first of his many blades from his pocket, catching moonlight on the gleaming metal as he brought it to her neck. Both of her parents gasped and lurched forward, desperate to stop his motion. He tutted and they froze.

“P- please… don’t hurt her! I’ll show you the safe, whatever you want!”

He chuckled at the man’s pleading and pressed the metal against the girl’s neck, barely enough to draw blood.

“Follow me,” was all he said, and turned to leave.

The parents followed him downstairs, as he knew they would. They sat on the couch obediently and held perfectly still as he tied up the young girl. He did no further damage, not yet. This had to be done right, of he’d have to do it all again.

Tie the parents, too, fool.

“Obviously, Vergil! I’m not an imbecile…”

They didn’t resist, meekly letting him rope their wrists and ankles together as if their cooperation could save their child. Once all three were immobile, he retrieved the dozens of mason jars full of cows blood from his bag, setting them on the coffee table for the family to see.

“W- what do you want?” the father demanded. V smirked. Should he tell them?

He pulled out his brushes, laying them beside the jars with reverence. Horsehair and enamel, the same ones he’d used all those months ago to create such mediocrity at school. What a waste of time…

“If you stay quiet, the child will live,” he said. A lie, but it wouldn’t do to be interrupted too early. The man and woman nodded. Idiots.

With a length of rope, he hefted the girl above their heads to dangle from the chandelier. She was surprisingly silent, only a few subdued whimpers marking her dread. The couple beneath her didn’t look away for an instant, as if their gaze alone could reassure the terrified child.

The image of his masterpiece danced through his mind and he ripped the pajamas away from the man and woman with a gleeful smile. They jumped but were wise enough not to scream. He tilted his head to assess them, judging where his eventual marks would lie with a thoughtful frown. The woman’s stretch marks and sagging breasts were as he expected, the man’s pot belly and hairy chest a compliment of mundanity. Such an ordinary family; he would elevate them into greatness through his art.

“Remember, not a sound…” he reminded them. Both heads nodded and he got to work, humming a classical tune.

The first ten jars of blood went on the floor, creating a viscous puddle around his feet and staining the air with the scent of copper. It was fortunate he’d chosen a family with a split-level home, or it wouldn’t have created such a perfect lake. How lucky. Fate must approve of his plans.

He set aside the painting adorning the wall he’d chosen, leaving the bottom few inches to be coated in the red fluid disturbed by his every move. Another jar in hand, he selected the flat size 20 paintbrush and dipped it in the contained fluid. This was the best part, the moment before the canvas accepted his first offering and showed his genius to the world. He took a deep breath and indulged the rush of pleasure at what he was about to do.

The first stroke was like being inside a woman, a heady rush of wondrous beauty and divine need that consumed his senses. Nothing mattered but the next line, the next detail to be added. He lost all sense of time as he painted, creating a unique pattern of scarlet on the plain wall using each brush in turn.

The last jar was depleted before he realized how much blood he’d used. More was required, and the piece desperately needed a frame. He turned to the family with a devilish smirk. Their time was almost up.

You need to be fast.

He rolled his eyes. Truly, Vergil was the master of the obvious tonight. The empty jar and stained brushes dropped to the floor and he drew his blade, stepping closer to the parents and reveling in the repulsed horror in their eyes. Who would go first?

Make em choose, Van Gogh.

“How brilliant, thank you Griffon.”

He pointed the cruel edge at the mother and father in turn, letting them see just how sharp it was before he addressed them. The mother was shivering, goosebumps covering her flesh. From fear or cold, he couldn’t say. It didn’t matter.

“Choose,” he stated simply. They blinked and shared a glance of confusion and he sighed. “Choose who dies.”

The child squirmed and whimpered above as the parents froze. They didn’t speak and he grew impatient. What absurdity.

“Choose or I start with her,” he threatened, pointing at the child with his blade. Instantly the father met his emerald eyes.

“Me! Leave Becca alone,” he said. V smiled. What a fool.

The mother sniffled and tears streamed down her face, but she lacked the courage to protest.

“Very well. Say goodbye,” V said. He would allow them ten seconds, no more.

The man swallowed and met his wife’s agonized eyes. “I love you, Amy. So much…”

She hiccupped and nodded, biting her lip to restrain a wail. It was clear she wanted to say it back, but again, she lacked the courage. The man accepted her frailty with a disappointed gleam and turned his eyes to his daughter.

“Becca, close your eyes. Don’t look, not even for a second. I love you.”

The child nodded and clenched her eyes, so like her mother in her inability to speak. V almost pitied the man, facing death without the reassurance of those he loved so dearly. Not that it mattered in the end.

Satisfied, the father brought his leaking eyes to meet V’s and nodded. He was ready. Not that the artist needed permission…

V twirled his blade and stepped closer, the blood sloshing around his feet as he approached. The woman looked away, unable to watch. What a coward.

“Don’t scream…” V whispered and brought the blade home with a surge of adrenaline.

The man bit his lip, his eyes glimmering in pure agony as he plunged all four inches of steel into his belly. A muffled grunt slipped free and tears left rivers down his face as V started sawing at the flabby flesh. Fresh gore spilled forth, drenching the couch and joining the cow’s blood on the floor. The unique sound of carving meat split the air and the wife sobbed, still unable to look but knowing what was happening nonetheless. Drops splattered on V’s scalp; the child’s tears.

He had to admit, the man had courage. Though he let an occasional groan through, he obeyed the order for silence even as his life slowly drained away. The slash reached across his stomach and through the gap, pink organs and yellow fatty tissue leaked crimson. A flash of white bone hid bashfully behind the initial gristle. It was beautiful.

His hand withdrew, setting the blade aside so he could pull the ropy lengths out with both hands. Supposedly, there should be several feet of the stuff. Plenty for his purposes. Steam rose from the gaping wound and his hands tingled at the heat as he brought the entrails forth. The texture was delightful, bumpy yet slick and firm. He smirked and reached for his blade, sawing until he held what he needed away from the man’s dying body. The echo of his panting gasps was glorious.

V turned away and pulled out the nail gun from his duffel bag. A few quick thuds and the man’s entrails made a delightful frame for his work. Yet it wasn’t quite complete.

He returned to the family and slashed at the man’s torso, ripping open his sternum. He had to punch at his rib cage until the bones shattered and the man coughed up thick blood as he sculpted his malleable form into the perfect complement for the wall nearby. The artist held one of the empty jars to catch what blood he could, but the light in his eyes was fading fast; too fast. He set aside the half-full jar and gripped his knife.

The blade crossed over his arms and legs, dancing a pattern that must be completed before the flow of blood halted entirely. Truthfully, he probably should have started with this.

He’d do better with the woman.

As the man breathed his last, V stepped back to admire his work. Jagged marks decorated his flesh, a tapestry of lines dripping red. The chasm of his belly was a sight to behold, though the smell was nauseating. At some point, he must have pierced his stomach. Vile.

Shards of ribs poked through his upper chest, a cavity where V had forced his way through. His heart pounded in joy at the sight, even better than his imaginings. He turned to the woman as the man’s bowels released in a cloud of foul perfume, wrinkling his nose.

Her eyes were still shut tight, her face angled away from her husband as if by denial alone she could bring him back. She was shaking, her tears run dry. She might go into shock if he didn’t hurry. He used the husband’s blood to finish the last section of blank wall and returned to the wife.

“Amy, was it?” the artist asked. Her petrified eyes flew wide, showing her terror-dilated pupils as she gazed at her husband’s blood and gristle splattering his body. She whimpered.

“Amy. You’re doing so well.”

Her eyes glittered in hatred. He didn’t care.

The fluids around his feet slapped against his calves as he leaned toward her. He’d learned his lesson from the man. “Don’t scream.”

His blade was lightning, flashing against her skin so quickly he barely felt the resistance as he sliced. She whined but managed not to scream. Truly, the things people did for their children amazed him. The pain was obvious in her dull eyes, though she still resolutely kept herself from seeing her husband’s still steaming corpse beside her. Admirable, though pointless.

The artist was panting by the time he was satisfied. Her body matched her spouse, save for the deep wounds that killed him. Perfectly prepared. It was time.

He stood and approached the child. Amy’s eyes widened and she thrashed, realizing far too late that her silence had bought nothing. She begged and pleaded, pathetic whispers offering everything she could think of in exchange for her child’s life. As if worldly possessions or sex mattered to him…

It wasn’t until he rested the bloody blade on the child’s gasping throat that the woman started wailing. He moved slowly, drawing out the moment as long as he dared. The child was too petrified to even scream as the metal bit through the corded muscles of her neck to rip open her windpipe, dragging across her youthful skin to pierce her jugular for good measure.

Her gurgling was barely audible over the mothers keening. The sound reminded him to hurry and he didn’t hesitate, plunging the blade into the girl’s belly and splitting her open just like her father. Hot blood cascaded down like a waterfall, coating her screaming mother and V alike. He brought the blade to his mouth, holding it between his teeth as he dug through her small body to find what he needed. There.

He tore it out and the child jerked, the trauma too much for her body to handle. It didn’t matter and he hurried back to the nail gun, spearing the liver in the ideal counterpoint to his artistry.

Almost perfect. He turned back to the mother, her incessant blubbering reminding him of what he still needed to do. She cursed at him as he came closer, damning his soul as if it wasn’t already beyond saving. He almost laughed, but there was no time. No, it was all he could do to thrust the tip of his knife straight into her broken heart and twist.

Ribs were truly the worst. The blade broke and he rolled his eyes, about to draw another but the damage was done. Her shouted curses faded into silence, only the dripping of her daughter’s blood breaking the quiet of the night. He hummed in satisfaction, pleased at his work.

Red light spilled through the lass of the front door, illuminating him as a siren wailed almost as insistently as the now-dead mother had. Damn. He thought he might have a few more moments before they arrived…

Now for the final touch…

The artist grinned as the door exploded inward, bringing his saturated fingers to his lips to lick at the crimson and humming as he found chunks of meat in his fingernails. It didn’t particularly appeal to him, but the look on the cops faces as they saw him was priceless. He couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting as they drew closer, guns drawn.

“There’s bags over there, if you need to vomit, gentlemen. I won’t resist, take your time,” he informed them with a wry smirk. Indeed, the first three officers lost their dinners at the smell and sight that greeted them.

The fourth merely gagged, keeping most of his composure as he stepped forward with handcuffs at the ready. V turned around to present his wrists and took one last look at his work with a grin.

His mirth vanished as he spotted his error. A void where there should have been lovely streaks of red. His masterpiece was ruined, incomplete and unfinished. Shock and dismay flooded his mind as the cuffs clicked home.

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say…”

---Reader---

For over an hour, V lied completely still on the cot, spread eagled by the restraints. You wondered if he’d ever return to his former self, but finally his eyes blinked and he groaned; the first sound he’d made in half an hour. You leaned forward, intent to hear whatever he said next as he returned to coherence. His fingers stretched and he sighed.

“What happened, V?”

He didn’t respond, instead closing his eyes and clenching his hands back into fists. You waited, sure he’d say or do something interesting if only you stayed patient.

“I don’t know.”

You pursed your lips. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

His brows furrowed in concentration. It startled you to see such an intelligent man have to ponder such a simple question. Mental illness was no joke.

“Kevin left me alone… I was thinking, and now I’m still in bed but you’re here and I have a terrible headache.”

You stood and leaned into his field of view, meeting his eyes and assessing his status. Pupils looked back to normal, no gleam of confusion beyond the norm to be seen. He obviously recognized you. You released the strap holding his skull in place and sat back.

“My thanks.”

You hummed. It was best to let him get his bearings before digging in too deep, so you waited. Whatever he’d just experienced was intense and his mind likely needed a moment to gather itself again. The minutes ticked by in silence and you started to wonder if you were wasting your time when he spoke at last, his voice a croak.

“What time is it? Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

“I was about to leave when Aaron called me. It’s about ten now.”

He grimaced. What was going on? It seemed out of character for him to be aware of where you ought to be. Until now, he struck you as selfish and too consumed by his own struggle to notice, let alone care if he inconvenienced those around him. Was it simply an after effect of his episode?

“My apologies,” he murmured. “I do hope you didn’t have to cancel any plans.”

You crossed your legs. Was he trying to manipulate you, or was this closer to the man behind the madness? Was this who he was before everything went wrong? If it was, you didn’t want to make him feel guilty or ashamed. He needed to feel safe talking to you for you to help him.

“No, nothing like that,” you said carefully.

He didn’t react. Another long few minutes passed in silence. You didn’t press him. Not yet, at least. To keep your mind busy, you focused on the way the shadows played on the plain walls every time a breeze rustled the tree outside. A dance, almost.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked eventually.

“You recited William Blake, the same line over and over. That’s all I know; I didn’t see the whole thing.”

The artist turned to face you, his intense green eyes glinting in the low light. “What line?”

“For he saw that life lived upon death.”

His eyes closed. “The Book of Urizen.”

You wished you had his chart. He was giving you so much new information, what if you forgot something important? You had a pretty good memory, but even the smallest detail could prove crucial.

You almost smacked yourself in the face for your stupidity; you could record the whole exchange on your phone and transcribe it later. If only you’d thought of it sooner!

“Does it have any significance to you?” you asked, reaching for your purse and rummaging around.

“Not to me, no.”

There it was. Enough battery to last a while, too. You tapped the screen a few times until it started recording and held it in your lap. V’s eyes stayed fixed on you the whole time.

“Do you mind? I don’t have my notes.”

His jaw clenched but he nodded. What else could he do? Hopefully he’d still answer the same way.

“Not significant to you? Then who?”

He sighed. His lips twitched, the first echo of his familiar smirk crossing his features. If this odd honesty was an after effect, it was fading. Fast.

“To… another. One who is less amenable to your questions.”

“Griffon?”

He shook his head.

So, he hears others, too? Interesting.

“Vergil. I’ll say no more for now.”

You wanted to insist, but the sardonic gleam in his eye showed that he was back to his normal self. It would be a waste of energy. It felt like you gained very little from the exchange, but you wouldn’t know until you had time to process it. Who knows how much he just let slip?

You needed to get to your office.

“In that case, I’ll let you get some rest. Goodnight, V.”

You switched off the recorder, stood and headed for the door.

“Farewell, Y/N…”

You almost tripped at the purr of his voice. He was definitely back to his normal self.

~~~Next Chapter~~~

#fanfic #my writing #v x reader #dark #dead dove do not eat #angst #dmcv #Be My Nightmare

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petoskeystones · 5 years

Text

In Which They Go To The Amusement Park

stucky, pepperony, thruce, danbeau, platonic clintasha

no warnings

tw: cursing, maybe anxiety/panic attack

5,556 words

chapter 1/1

no beta because I’m not a coward

Tony was excited to go to his favorite amusement park with his best friends. He was not excited about the fact he had to wake up at three o’clock in the goddamn morning to get there. But he did wake up, and it only took him 25 minutes to get dressed and meander his way into the kitchen.

“Morning, Jarvis. Hey, Peter- what the hell?”

“Hey Tony!” Peter Parker sat at his breakfast table while Jarvis- bless him- made bacon.

“And what are you doing here?”

“You told me to be here at 3:15!”

“Oh yeah.”

And Tony sat down and ate a piece of bacon and inhaled three cups of coffee while Jarvis looked concerned.

“Master Tony, we have to pick up Bruce Banner at three-forty-five.” So the boys grabbed some food and jumped in the car. Once Bruce was safely in the seat next to Tony (Peter had grabbed shotgun, and he was so cheerful at this ungodly hour that Tony didn’t complain) and Peter was rambling away up front, they raced to school and made it to the bus in time to grab great seats. Once they were seated Tony took the opportunity to look around. He saw Thor get out of a black escalade in the parking lot smiling, and as it drove away a hand from the driver’s seat waved (Hela, probably) and a hand in the back flipped him off (Loki, definitely)

Bruce had sat in the window and Thor quickly joined him, just across from Carol and her girlfriend Maria. Carol and Thor were chatting while their respective girlfriend and boyfriend slept. Steve and Bucky were sitting upright like the ridiculously well-adjusted people they were: Bucky was reading some Russian novel and Steve was sketching him. Clint and Nat were not sitting together but opposite each other. Natasha was listening to music and Clint was interrupting her every fifteen seconds. Natasha was capable of murder and Clint seemed to forget that fact. Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne were watching Netflix and-

Pepper. Potts. She walked onto their bus? Pepper was on their bus? Tony nudged Peter, who was already vibrating with pent-up energy beside him: “Did you know Pepper, Rhodey, and Peggy were on our bus?”

“Yeah?”

“Sh-oot. Shoot.”

“You can swear in front of me, you know.”

And thus began the four hour bus ride to the competition and amusement park.

The ride up was actually fun? Peter was surprised that he made it either way though. He could barely make it from the Stark building to the school. And he usually would walk around the bus and maybe talk to someone at the front, or ask the teacher a question, but when Fury was the chaperone he decided to not risk it. He contented himself by scrolling his Tumblr dash for an hour, then checking his regular tags (“ravenclaw”, “adhd”, “thomas sanders” and “science side”), then he rearranged his apps. He also added some songs to his playlist and watched an episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved. Then he texted every group chat he was a part of, chatted with Steve who was across the aisle to him, and took some aesthetic pictures. He also went over his sheet music, scoured the website for the park, and finally fell down a Wikipedia rabbit hole about Dracula that ended up with the Korean revolution. And then they were there.

He was in band, and so was Tony, Bruce, Thor, Carol, Rhodey, Hope, and Bucky. Everyone else was in orchestra. That’s why they got to go on this sweet field trip: they were competing in their individual categories and then would spend the day going on roller coasters.

The performance went well, surprisingly. Peter yawned during their second song but that’s all and he was singled out by the moderator for being the youngest! Skipping two grades had its perks. Then they were on the bus getting ready to go! Peter had his headphones, his earplugs, his earbuds, his phone and his portable charger and his money and his raincoat in case it rained. His science teacher had gone over the weather the day before and it would almost definitely rain, and so everyone brought an umbrella or poncho or jacket. Except Steve and Bucky.

“How does the weatherman know?”

“All that technology can’t be trusted.”

“And besides, Ms Bowey gets things wrong.”

They hadn’t brought anything and everyone was waiting for it to rain to see the looks on their faces.

So after a lot of rules and yelling from Fury, and some smiles and reminders to have fun and to be at the ballroom area for the awards at five pm from Hill, they were off!

Bruce was happy. He was happy to do this forever, maybe: walk around the park holding hands with Thor, smiling while Peter talked and talked and talked, while Steve and Bucky walked side by side with whispers and scowls at Tony, and while Tony suggested every huge and scary coaster in the place, while Nat and Clint walked a ways behind and bickered. No school, no stress, no worrying. Even when Peter stopped to put his headphones over his ears when it got especially crowded and noisy, even when Tony stopped dead and hid behind a bench (Pepper had passed) and even when Clint tripped over absolutely nothing and they had to stop to check that he hadn’t broken anything he was absolutely fine! What a concept.

Carol and Maria were having the time of their lives. They had gone on every medium-level coaster in the park and were excited to try the especially fast and scary ones. The ride up had been nice too: Maria had napped and listened with one earbud to their Queen playlist and Carol had taken the other earbud while she chatted with Thor and exchanged pictures of their pets. Carol’s cat Goose was the greatest cat ever, but Mjolnir was a huge golden retriever and he was pretty freakin’ awesome too.

Carol had only joined band because Thor joined band. Thor only joined because Bruce joined. Bruce joined because Tony talked him into it in sixth grade. Thor had been dismayed to find he was the only jock. Carol had had to choose between orchestra with her girlfriend and band with her best friend, but she decided violins were dumb and took up the trombone. It wasn’t her favorite thing ever, but they got to take cool trips. And now they got in line, holding hands, hair windblown and messy. About five seconds after they got in line it someone put up a sign: the ride was closed due to weather. Good thing, too: it started to pour about five minutes after they left the line.

It started to rain while the group looked for food and Steve was going to punch something, he swore. Tony had an umbrella, Peter had a raincoat, even Nat brought a jacket. Clint had a dumb poncho. Thor and Bruce had jackets too and he and Bucky had nothing. As everyone started to snicker, Bucky scowled and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing Poncho Boy. “

“Poncho boy!” Nat started to laugh. “New contact name.”

“Oh, you’re getting rid of Katniss Ever-lame?” Clint fake-smiled at her.

“Yep,” Natasha already had her phone out and was typing. “Smile!” Clint looked confused and so his new contact photo was him looking confused in a poncho while the rain poured with the new name “poncho boi”. Everyone was already changing the name too. Steve smiled while Clint looked disgruntled. He was still, however, wet. Peter’s hair was starting to frizz and Bucky looked less than enthusiastic. He dragged his boyfriend, along with Tony, Peter,. Thor and Bruce, and Clint and Nat, into a random store that apparently had candy and ice cream. And ice cream cheered everyone right up.

It stopped raining and they headed outside in the post-rain warmth and haze. Everyone else was smiling outside and when Bruce tugged on his hoodie sleeve Thor looked up and saw a double rainbow. He took a picture and posted it to instagram along with most of their friends, but Peter won Best Caption.

The sky said GAY RIGHTS

The speakers around the park had been playing music the whole time and all of a sudden, You’re My Best Friend was playing and through all of the people, Thor saw a tall girl with dark, short hair start wildly waltzing with a shorter blonde girl in a flannel. He smiled.

Their group had a problem, Clint soon realized. Natasha, Thor, Bucky and Tony wanted to go on every single ride and coaster in the park. Peter, Steve and Bruce, along with him, wanted nothing to do with scary rides. So they compromised. They built up to the scary rides and they started with some of the wild, spinny rides; those were Peter’s favorite anyways. There was no line for them. They rode them about five times in a row: Clint and Peter (he was mad at Nat), Nat and Steve, Bucky and Tony (they looked ready to throw the other out of the seat) and Thor and Bruce. Peter weighed about five pounds so he was repeatedly thrown into Clint while they laughed.

Then they went on the pirate-ship that rocked from side to side. Peter wasn’t allowed to have headphones and Nat saw him get worried, so she sat next to Peter and let him latch onto her wrist during the ride.

“HOLY FREAKING- OH MY- Oh wait, this isn’t so bad!” Natasha laughed as Peter relaxed next to her (even though he maintained his grip on her arm) and once they got off of the ride everyone was a lot less stressed.

“YOOOOOO,” Tony yelled. Bruce looked over and saw one of those cheesy games: Guess Your Age, Weight or Birthday! If I Guess Wrong, You Win A Prize! The prize was a large stuffed sloth that was about as big as Peter.

“Nope.” Natasha flat out forbid Tony. “You want to drag that thing around the rest of the day and then on the bus? Bad idea, Tony. Just buy one, you’re literally a billionai-”

He was already giving the lady five dollars and hopping on the scale. Natasha sighed and resolved to join the group with Pepper, Rhodey, Peggy, and Carol and Maria next time.

“So the way this works is that I guess the weight. If I’m wrong by five pounds you win a small prize. If I’m off by ten pounds you win a big prize.” Tony nodded.

“Hmmmm. I wanna say ninety pounds.” Tony stepped on the scale.

“A hundred and ten! Jeez, okay. You win a big sloth.”

“Fine. Nice job, Tony.”

“How on earth do you weigh a hundred and ten pounds? I can bench press you,” Steve wondered.

“It’s all muscle, Steve.” At that, Bucky choked on his water.

They sat down at some benches in order to get situated when Steve’s eyes opened wide and Tony turned around and Pepper Potts, the most beautiful girl in school, his best friend Rhodey’s new sort-of best friend, the girl who was rumored to already have been accepted to Harvard business school, she was walking right towards him and he was holding a ridiculous sloth and also hanging out with a bunch of nerds and Thor.

“Oh, hey, Peg. Hi, Rhodey, hey Pepper!”Steve smiled like he wasn’t talking to a literal goddess, the head of the debate team as well as the head of the Women’s Club at their school, and the greatest person possibly ever.

“Hey, so Tony, Rhodey pointed out your sloth and we were wondering where you got it? It’s so cute!” Pepper smiled at him and Tony would have come up with a good response, he swears, something like oh yeah I won it at that game over there they guessed my birthday wrong! And his friends would have maybe kept their damn mouths shut because they all knew how long he had liked Pepper. He forgot, however, that at the particular late-night study session when he had admitted this, Bucky hadn’t been there and so Bucky ruined it all.

“Yeah the lady at that booth guessed Tony’s weight as ninety pounds because he’s a midget, haha, and he actually weighs one-ten! Which is probably the snacks we’ve all been eating today. It’s funny because Steve’s maximum weight at the gym is one-thirty, Steve could literally bench press Tiny- sorry, Tony, here-”

A few things happened at this point.

Bruce yelled “Bucky, shut up!” while

Steve clamped a hand over his boyfriend’s mouth.

Meanwhile Peter and Thor began to ramble to cover everything up and

Natasha apologized for “my dumbass friends.”

Clint was giggling and the worst part was that

Rhodey shot Tony an I’m-so-sorry-dude-I’ll-talk-to-her look while

Pepper walked away, confused and probably thinking Tony was a short, weird, loser who could be bench-pressed by her best friend’s ex boyfriend, and most likely deciding to never speak to him again.

“BUCKY!” Steve was berating his boyfriend. “Why would you say that?”

“What does it matter, Steve?”

“Bucky. Pepper- Pepper’s the first person I ever really liked, like I really like her!”

“The first person you really-really like?” Steve arched an eyebrow. Tony had confessed to liking him in their freshman year, and Steve had felt the same way for a while too, but it was all in the past now. “The first person ever?”

Tony rolled his eyes. Bucky, meanwhile got the drift.

“Ohhhhhh, shit, Tony, I’m so sorry.”

“As entertaining as this is, guys, we’re going to be late for the awards if we don’t haul over to the pavilion thing. It’s four fifty-five,” Bruce interrupted. “C’mon.”

When Bruce said “C’mon”, the Panic! At The DIsco song got stuck in Peter’s head and he hummed it while they jogged through the park. They found everybody in their school standing at the pavilion, milling around with the students from a bunch of other schools in the area. Peter felt his chest getting tighter and took a few deep breaths in order to calm himself down. Hill and Fury called them all into the huge room and told them to sit with their groups on the ground. Peter hated sitting on the ground. Everybody was so darn loud, why were people so loud? He was sandwiched between Peter Quill, who was yelling something, and T’Challa, who was at least talking at a normal volume to Nakia, and Quill was touching him and everybody was so loud still, and where was Tony? Why were people touching him? Why couldn’t he breathe correctly? He heard Thor yell something across the floor, and his jeans felt weird on his knees, and he really hated the way those jeans felt, why did he wear them? Was the floor always slightly sticky? He grabbed his headphones and slid them over his ears, screwing up his eyes and humming “C’mon” a little louder and tapping a beat on the sides of his headphones. WAs that kid from another school laughing at him? He had to get out of here. Natasha and Clint were the closest to him. Clint noticed Peter and signed “are you o k?” at him. “No. SOS” Peter signed back. (Most of them knew sign language. Clint was deaf and Peter, when things got to be too much for him, would slide headphones over his ears and revert to signing everything.)

“I'm gonna take Pete outside, Nat.” Cluint stood up, earning a glare from Hill, and grabbed Peter’s arm and took him outside. They sat on a bench and watched the ceremony.

The band was the only one in the mixed highschool category and got first place, but the orchestra got third. Peter smiled and met up with ihs friends afterwards, keeping his headphones on but chatting with them nonetheless.

Maria and Carol were in line for the biggest roller coaster in the park. Again. They had been kicked out due to rain, had to leave the line to watch the awards, and now they were back. There was a huge line and Pepper and Peggy were supposed to meet them in the line after finding Tony and Peter and trading Rhodey for Thor. They were looking at a picture of Goose on Carol’s phone when they heard Thor’s loud voice from the back of the line (they were about halfway there, and the line was long as hell) yelling “Carol! Maria! I am here with Pepper and Peggy!”

The girls and Thor started to walk past the people waiting and were almost there when some lady stopped him.

‘Excuse me, where do you think you’re going, young man?” Karen (Carol decided to call her Karen because she looked like a Karen) asked him.

“Well, those are our friends right up there and we were going to ride the roller coaster with them.” Karen looked up at Carol and Maria, still holding hands, who waved at her and smiled. Karen faced Thor again.

“No.”

“But we have to be in a group together! It’s the rules for our school trip. Let us up!” Peggy looked angry.

“Young lady, go to the back of the line!”

Peggy was going to yell some more, and Pepper was seriously annoyed. But then there was a chime from their phones.

Maria: just leave it

Maria: legit it’s okay we can go on this one and y’all can pick another ride

Maria: and meet at another, cooler ride

Carol: my girlfriend is so smart❤❤❤❤❤❤

Pep: fine

Thor: sounds good!

Peggy: i will fight this lady tho

Carol and Maria advanced in the line, and they saw that the coaster even went upside down. They looked at each other and grinned.

“Good practice for when you’re in a fight and your plane goes upside down,” Maria said with a smirk.

“Yes, Maria. Because going on one roller coaster will prepare us for the Air Force. Mhmm. Yep. Okay. Put that on your application, Rambeau.

Carol and Maria continued the back-and-forth that Bruce and Thor loved to watch on their frequent double dates until it was their turn on the roller coaster-

“Sorry, girls. The ride’s full. You get to be first on the next turn!”

Carol was hopping up and down in excitement, and Maria was excited too (just a little less… bubbly) and that’s when the ride lurched forward and took off. They saw how fast it was and it was going to be so cool and then they heard the mechinery of the ride sort of stop. They waited for amminute but they couldn’t see the roller coaster come speeding back around. And then the announcement:

“Laaaaaaaaaaidies and gentlemen, the roller coaster is experiencing technical difficulties and we’re going to have to shut it down for the rest of the night. Our apologies again, and have a lovely evening!”

Maria snapped a picture of the priceless look on her girlfriend’s face.

Peggy, Pepper and Rhodey were having a great time on their own. Peggy was happy to see how much fun all of her friends were having, but the one thing that would have made her day almost-perfect was having a boyfriend there with her. Not because she particularly cared about romance right now, not because she was pining over Steve (she wasn’t) but because she was in a group of either five or three all day. Carol and Maria were roller coaster buddies for life, and Pepper rode with Rhodey because she was the one who had invited him along with their group to spend the day away from his best friend anyways, it would be rude to make him ride with Peggy or with a stranger. So Peggy was stuck with the “dad in the family of three” or the “third wheel” or the “flirty boy who had no sense of boundaries” and she was sick of it. On this ride, which might be one of their last, she turned around to see her prospects and decided that she might as well be proactive and pick someone who looked nice and her age and who would be willing to shriek with terror and exhilaration in the front seat.

There was a group of about seven boys directly behind them and so she took a deep breath and pivoted around, smiling.

“Hey, I’m Peggy. I’m in a group of three-” she indicated Pep and Rhodey, “-and so I was wondering if any of you guys would want to ride the roller coaster with me? Preferably someone who doesn’t mind the front seat and my incessant yelling.”

The boys looked at each other and Peggy worried she was about to be made fun of, or worse, put in yet another bad situation, but instead a boy with a smile and a crutch walked forward.

“Daniel Sousa, roller-coaster-rider extraordinaire, at your service, Peggy.” He smiled and she smiled back and the boys behind her started to giggle and Pepper did too. Peggy didn’t care, though.

Apparently Daniel wanted to go into the military, maybe the government, same as Peggy. He was here with a different school and had lost his leg after a bad car crash when he was a kid. He did martial arts and liked roller coasters and Peggy had a good feeling about her roller-coaster buddy.

The coaster itself was great. Pepper hated it but Rhodey, Peggy and Daniel loved it. And afterwards, when they were leaving to meet Carol and Maria at another ride, Peggy said “Well, it’s been lovely riding roller coasters with you.”

“Come on, Daniel! Give her your number and let’s get outta here,” one of Daniel’s friends called. Peggy and Daniel turned red.

“Shut up, Ray.”

“Wait!” Peggy grabbed a random piece of paper in her pocket, it turned out to be a note Steve had tossed her on the bus reading “does peter quill ever shut the heck up” but she scribbled her number on it and handed it to Daniel.

‘If you ever want to talk more about politics and martial arts, let me know.” Daniel nodded and Peggy smiled before walking away with her friends. As soon as they were out of earshot from the boys, Pepper whooped and Rhodey high-fived her.

“Tooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyy,” Peter groaned in the arcade. “Lend me a dollar. Please. You’re part of the reason I lost five bucks on the bus! You’re a billionaire. Please.”

“What do you want to play, anyways?”

“I want to do the claw machine? They have a stuffed Bulbasaur I’m almost positive I could win.”

“Fine. Have a dollar. One dollar only.” Tony handed it to Peter, who grinned and ran to the machine. Clint was trying to get a stuffed Rowlet, and as soon as he lost Peter pushed him aside.

“My turn, poncho boy.”

Peter did win the Bulbasaur, and he gloated to Tony the whole way to the next ride.

“Okay. So some of us want to go on the huge, scary rides. And some of us want to go on the smaller ones. So Rhodey and Maria are meeting us here, and I’m going with Thor, Bucky and Tony and meeting Pep, Peggy and Carol at that ride that goes up the huge pole thing and drops down? And you guys can go on another ride. Deal?” Natasha finished speaking and nodded at Rhodey and Maria.

“Pep and Peg are at the Big Scary ride, Carol’s meeting them there after she eats her ice cream. Have fun!” Maria waved them off and the new group set off for some smaller rides.

They found one that didn’t have a very long line. It was basically a tilted platform, with a big circle on top with the seats. The circle spun around, slightly elevated, and Bruce took a long look at the machinery underneath. It was greasy and not very well maintained, but still cool.

Peter was hugging his Bulbasaur (“Her name is Delilah!”) and while they stood in line and watched some smaller kids go around and around, Maria picked Delilah up.

“Aww, how cute.” Clint grabbed Delilah away and put her in between the metal railing separating them from the ride. And Peter made to grab Delilah but only knocked her onto the ride. He looked in horror as she spun around, fell off, rolled to the edge of the underneath platform, and settled mere centimeters from falling into the greasy, deep pit of machinery and despair.

“Clint! Look what you did!” Peter said as they watched, transfixed by the steady brushing of the top platform brushing her bulb. The ride stopped, finally after what seemed like an eternity. Peter rushed forward and rescued Delilah, sticking his tongue out at Clint. The ride was starting, and Rhodey yelled “Steve! Your hat!” but it was too late and Steve’s army patterned baseball hat was blown off onto the platform, then off the platform, then it slid down to the gate. After the ride he grabbed it, ignoring the snickers from his friends, and they set off to find their friends. They were not in line for the Big Scary ride, on the ride, or anywhere near the ride.

“I’ll call Natasha.” Clint grabbed his phone and the conversation on the end Peter heard went like this:

“Hey Natasha, where are you? I can’t hear you. Yes I’m wearing my hearing aids, zhopa. I’m hanging up now.” Clint hung up and then said “No idea, couldn’t hear.”

Peter, Bruce and Rhodey went to their group chat with Tony:

Petey boi: tony where u at

Platypus: yeah tiny where r u

Bruce Banner: Tony, where are you guys?

Tiny stank: can’t talk rn guys

“Nothing.”

“Let’s get some food, then, we haven’t had dinner,” Maria suggested.

“Yeah! Let’s get this bread!” Peter punched the air and Btruce closed his eyes in silent pain. He missed his lab, with its complete silence and absence of memes.

They found the food and sat down on some benches in a sort of courtyard area, laughing at Peter as he stood on the tiptoes of his converse to order some tacos. Then Clint saw poor Delilah (who had already been through quite an ordeal) and grabbed her and sat on her.

Peter returned, saying “Dinner orders are in! For Maria, Clint and Steve: hotdogs! For Steve: a slice of pizza! For me and Bruce: Tacos! Where the frick-frack is Delilah?”

Clint snickered and everyone else maintained a poker face.

“You have to find her and then we can leave.”

“Give her to me, Clint!”

“Why do we always assume it’s me that does these things?”

“Because you’re the only one who does these things.” Everyone nodded.

Peter, resigned to his fate, walked in circles around the courtyard while Clint shouted “HOT” and “COLD” and Maria stifled laughs. FInally Peter gave up.

“Where is she?”

Clint stood up, Peter started to pounch Clint’s arm, and then their friends walked up.

“Topolino, what’d poncho boy do to you?”

“He took Delilah, Tony.”

“I swear to god, Tony- if you just referred to Peter using an Italian word that parents call their small children- I’m gonna-”

“Shut it, Steve. Like Bucky doesn’t call you dorogoi more than he calls you Steve.”

They kept bickering through two more small coasters, and another spinny ride, and then when it got dark they walked back to the bus. It was eight pm and they were going home.

Pepper was standing with Peggy and Carol, Rhodey and Maria jogged over and some of Peter’s group followed. Tony went over, too, and so Peter followed and left Clint, Nat and Steve on a bench looking at a vine compilation.

‘Hey… guys,” Tony said and Peter watched him not look at Pepper, but like in a subtle and chill way so it was less of a I’m-not-looking-at-you-because-Bucky-made-me-look-like-an-absolute-buffoon

And more of a I’m-just-really-interested-in-this-story-Rhodey’s-telling-about-that-one-guy-behind-you-on-the-ride

And Peter thought he was doing very well. Then they all drifted away to their own groups and Tony returned to casting wistful glances at Pepper, who was chatting with Peggy and some boy with a crutch and a wide grin.

“Y’know, in the cheesy romance movies, the boy wins a stuffed animal and gives it to the girl. Give your sloth to Pepper!” Bucky aid it like it was an amazing plan.

“No,” Natasha and Peter said in unison.

“If you had won the smaller sloth, and if Bucky had kept his mouth shut, and if you had given the hypothetical smaller sloth to her earlier, and if you were better friends with her, maybe. But if someone you were good acquaintances with gave you a sloth that was, like Peter’s size, and this was after that same person’s friends had acted like idiots- me and Peter not included- that would be red flags that that person had a huge crush on you. Don’t do it.”

Then they were called to get on the bus, and so they did.

AN HOUR LATER

Natasha was smiling at her phone. She was watching her favorite anime, First Squad. Her head was leaning on the chilly bus window, her feet were dangling off of the seat, one earbud was out, and she could hear the bus sounds around her.

Pepper and Peggy giggling and looking at Peggy’s phone.

Bruce and Thor watching Masterchef on Thor’s iPad.

Peter humming a Panic! At The Disco song right behind her.

Tony’s classic rock very faintly, he was blasting it in his headphones.

Carol and Maria quietly singing “Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy”.

Rhodey whispering to Tony, something like “it’s okay, she didn’t care.”

And of course, Clint Barton being a bitchass bus-mate.

Clint was her best friend, a decision she regretted almost every day. Right now she just wanted to watch some anime, relax, and maybe doze off a bit. But Clinton Francis “Poncho Boy” would not let that happen.

Natasha had brought snacks, and in the aisle of the grocery store at ten pm the night before, a big box of Welch’s Fruit Snacks seemed like a good idea.

“Nat, I want a fruit snack.”

“Natty, I can’t open the fruit snack!”

“Tasha, can I have another one? This one is mostly raspberries and those suck.”

“Natka, I started season three of Stranger Things and I swear to god, If Joyce Byers doesn’t get a break this time I will destroy the Monster Of The Year myself.”

“Holy shit, Tashie, you will love this season of Stranger Things.”

Finally Natasha opened her texts and just texted him with both earbuds in.

Poncho boy: it’s too loud on this fckin bus

Nat: take out your hearing aids and shut up

Nat: <shutthefuckupandgotosleep.mov>

Poncho boy: rude

Poncho boy: u know what

Nat: what

Poncho boy: imma watch buzzfeed unsolved

Poncho boy: also fuck you

Natasha was fine with that as long as Clint shut up, so she lay down and tried to fall asleep for a bit but Clint was also laying down (he took off his shoes because he was a horrible human being) and their legs were too long to fit on the seats, so after a brief (read: five minute) foot war they settled by having Clint put his legs on Nat’s seat and Natasha balanced her toes on the edge of Clint’s, she was shorter by about six inches. Clint soon fell asleep and Nat rested her head on her arm and finished her show.

Peter was less bouncy on the ride home. He got a seat to himself and so he curled up with The Office, spinning a fidget spinner and chuckling quietly, and then settled into his playlist until they pulled into the parking lot. That’s when the BIG THING, the thing that made this field trip go from “just another band trip” to a trip that was legendary in their friend group.

TOny had been eating the whole trip: chips in the morning, and then ice cream and tacos and cotton candy at the park, and on the bus home he finished off Natasha’s fruit snack stash with Clint and ate a Hershey's bar he found in his bag. Then he watched Netflix the way home on the bumpy bus ride. And the bus stopped, Peter Kept his earbuds in and then… something changed in the bus. Peter pulled out his earbuds:

So don't go breaking my heart

I won't go breaking your heart

Don't go breaking my heart

And nobody told us

'Cause nobody showed us-

“What the fuck just happened?”

“LANGUAGE, Mr. Lang.”

“Tony? You OK?”

Tony Stark, the heir to the biggest tech company in the world, a genius, the coolest dude in school, had just thrown up in the dimly lit bus aisle with his crush- the beautiful, incredibly smart and poised Pepper Potts, sitting two seats in front of him. Natasha started to yell.

“You guys. Let’s just get off of the bus, everyone.” Clint supplemented with “Shut up, Burch. It could have happened to anybody.”

Everybody got off of the bus except peter, Tony, Delilah, and the giant sloth that Tony named George. Tony looked at Peter. He really didn’t look that bad.

‘I should have given her the sloth, Pete.”

Peter laughed despite everything and helped Tony off of the bus, where JARVIS was waiting.

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videoranch · 6 years

Photo

The View from the Side of the Stage

Words and photos by Melodie Akers

Embarking on a 12-date tour seemed like the last thing Nez should have done a month ago. Before the New York show on September 20, I told him how proud I was of him. I had feared he would either decide to go home after three dates or complete the tour without the energy to play or sing his best. The Mike & Micky Show had been far from fun; apart from the shows -- which were incredible -- it had been full of sleepless nights on a shaky tour bus and empty-stomached afternoons in emergency rooms, clutching my copy of Science & Health, while Nez joked with the nurses. I dreaded a repeat of that awful month.

The September FNBR tour had all the opportunities to be grueling. It kicked off with three dates in a row, and there was another block of three in the middle. Days off were singular and rare. Despite having little time for rest, Nez organized his team and resources so that he made it through the journey feeling better by the end than at the beginning.

Nez has been expressing a desire for a jet since before the January tour. In late August, he decided it would be a perfect “ambulance” to shuttle him through the tour. At first it didn’t work how he intended. The driver who was taking us to the airport -- or FBO as I learned to call it -- would be late, or Jonathan and Susan wouldn’t be ready to leave so Nez and I were sitting in the car alone. Or the plane would not be ready, or worse -- broken. The food provided by the jet company turned out to not be up to Nez’s standard. By the time we left Texas, Dan, our tour manager, and I figured out how to use the jet to its full benefit. I started having the jet bring in outside catering from Jewish delis or we’d have a runner grab Popeye’s during the show. Dan started ordering the car earlier, so it was ready and waiting for luggage while Nez fulfilled his Meet & Greet duties. I worked out an organization system of Nez’s luggage that allowed me to pack up quickly and easily after the shows -- something I had finally worked out after struggling all through the Mike & Micky Show. Nez instructed me to call the pilots once we were rolling, providing them our ETA so our plane would be ready and waiting just like the car had been. Once we got it down to this science, a quick flight -- usually less than an hour -- and we’d be touched down with full bellies and headed to the hotel, tucked in bed by 2am.

Jet rides were a welcome time to decompress after the hard work of shows. We’d laugh while discussing the show’s high points and how it was developing. Nez always polled us on what was his funniest joke of the night. As fans have pointed out, no show was the same; Nez did this intentionally. He didn’t wear his hat on stage in Virginia because he had started to feel like it was a cliche! His between-song-banter appeared in the moment each night, and he adjusted the set list as the tour progressed. After the first shows, he cut four songs, then added them back in and even introduced Marie’s Theme as he visibly gained strength and confidence with each performance. His ability to continuously spontaneously create not only reflected his live career as a whole, but showed his developing connection with the Redux band’s interpretation of his work. We listened to a lot of his early ‘70s albums in Sparky just before leaving for rehearsals -- and our listening sessions brought forward some of the ideas he thought were unexpressed in January. Last month, rather than simply “play the album”, he introduced Redux to new ideas and then expressed them onstage. Many of those ideas appeared first within the safety and comfort of the jet.

This was my third tour working as Nez’s handler. “Handler” essentially means I am responsible for getting Nez where he needs to be when he needs to be there with all of his luggage, prepare his costume, make sure he has clean underwear, gets enough rest, and eats at meal times. Nez has told me repeatedly that it is not my job to make sure he is happy, but I still try my best to achieve that, too. In addition to handler, during the tour I kept my positions as his assistant, running his social media, and sending these newsletters. I tried to share shows from the side of the stage through Facebook Live, but many comments from fans complained about the sound. The sound of a show changes depending on where you are stood. From the side of the stage, all you’re hearing is the musician’s monitors and a little bleed of the “front of house mix” -- what the crowd hears. Therefore, stage left was heavily Christian and stage right was heavily Alex and Pete; neither are a great place to hear Nez’s vocal. Nez became frustrated with me because I didn’t have much to say after shows. Even though I stood there waiting to be needed while broadcasting live, I couldn’t hear the real show. For several shows, I stubbornly refused to move from my spot out of fear of not being there when he needed me.

During the Mike & Micky Show, I stood by in case Nez needed more water, a towel, someone to hold his guitar, someone to unlock his iPad… whatever. Every show was a struggle the second he stepped off stage -- and I was half of the team there to hold him up. Dan and I supported him until he’d walk back on stage and perform beautifully. His abilities in June were incredible and confusing to me. However, a wise man once wrote: The devil has no access to the singing man.

The end of the first show in Houston was a massive achievement: It proved he could do the show, which was the principal concern on my mind. As his healing became more apparent, I felt more confident that it was not irresponsible to abandon my side of stage post. I started to complete my packing in the dressing room during the show while enjoying the front of house mix through the venue’s playback pumped into the room, and once I even had the guts to leave the venue to grab Popeye’s for the jet. By New York, I completed my packing backstage then sat in the audience most of the show and was able to give Nez a full review afterwards without neglecting any of my handling responsibilities.

The key elements of a hotel while handling a principal on tour are: blackout shades so he can sleep late, edible room service meals, and close proximity to Starbucks. Our hotel in Dallas had a Starbucks inside but it was closed -- the disappointment took away from Nez’s room having an actual breakfast nook. Nashville’s blackout shades were the best of the tour, even though the room was otherwise unremarkable, making it a standout; Susan called it “womblike”. Nez’s favorite hotel of the tour was the Peninsula in Chicago. When we walked into his room, he announced he was moving. Everything was high-tech: the TV remote was an iPad and even the light switches were touchscreen. But the room’s tech did not take away from its design’s classic beauty achieved through golden accents, dark wood, and deep navy bedding -- like sleeping in the night sky. And they somehow avoided the hotel restaurant curse by having wonderful meals.

The most bizarre hotel was in Detroit. Nez and I are 95% sure it was haunted. Nez’s room had a ballroom with a grand piano. Okay, not exactly -- but it had a mostly empty room bigger than my apartment with a grand piano in the corner. I asked him if he could play piano. “No, why do you ask?” “I’ve seen pictures of you sitting at pianos.” “Oh yeah, I can sit at pianos.” The entire suite (ballroom, dining room, kitchen, bedroom, vanity room, walk-in closet, and bathroom) was 60% empty -- its rooms’ sizes dwarfing their furniture. The bathroom and its vanity room were green marble blocks. Nez said the place was a perfect analogy for the automotive industry of a century ago -- uselessly ginormous. It was also filled with the craziest art -- including a piece in the lobby that made me ask Nez, “Why do they have a painting of Kate Bush?” The green marble vanity and bathroom still backdrop my nightmares.

Recently a friend asked me what touring is like because she is writing a novel about a touring band in the ‘60s. I responded with Nez’s first lesson: laundry and food. Those are the hardest things. I have no concept of how they pulled it off in the ‘60s, though, because they didn’t have Google Maps or Uber. Google Maps is my answer to everything on the road: finding laundromats who do fluff-and-fold, finding the nearest Starbucks, finding restaurants, finding a manicurist two hours before the show, etc.. The main function I wish Google Maps had was a sketch-meter. The number of times I’ve chosen a laundromat that’s 10 minutes away because of its high Google rating to find out that it’s in a “bad” part of town upon arrival... I was grateful to always have an Uber driver there with me, at least.

Uber is the best and worst part of touring in 2018. Depending on the town, it takes either 2 minutes or 20 for your driver to arrive -- and that is usually a good indicator of the arriving driver’s helpfulness. As an introvert, by the end of the tour I dreaded running errands, because being trapped in a car with a stranger whom I felt I was inconveniencing in some insane way took a special toll on my mental energy. But in comparison to ordering black cars and limos, Uber makes transporting a rock star beyond simple -- until you consider seatbelts. Seatbelts in stranger’s cars are somehow always hidden. Nez is terrible about wearing his seatbelt anyway, so I’ve taken to pouncing on him the second he sits down in any vehicle to make sure he is buckled in. I’ve asked him how he survived being a race car driver when he struggles to put on his seatbelt; he has no answer.

I half-joke with Nez that he only tours the east coast to have lobster. After seven shows of only talking about lobster, he finally got his cherished crustacean at lunch in Boston before the Somerville show. That was also my first lobster; Nez says west coast lobsters aren’t real lobster. It was delicious; I fully understand his quest now. We also had the best fried chicken in Nashville, while Nez made up songs at the table like, “Why am I standing in the garage? I know I came in here for something important,” after I shared his habit of making up incredible songs on afternoon drives to Jonathan and Susan. But the best aspect of meals on the road was our company and official tour drink. Most dinners were spent with Jonathan, Susan, and Hennessy sidecars -- Nez’s favorite cocktail! It started during rehearsals at our hotel in Burbank, and continued through the last shows on the east coast. We had a slight hiccup in Nashville when we got into a battle with our waitress as to whether it was salt or sugar on the rim of our glasses, and thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere in a Chicago restaurant where our table was INSIDE a train car. These evenings were one of the first things Nez and I chased down upon returning home… but were disappointed to discover that Jonathan and Susan’s laughter could not be conjured by the sidecars alone.

Restaurants are usually the closest Nez and I got to sightseeing while on the road. Our tunnel of hotel-car-venue-car-plane-car-hotel didn’t offer much light. Most of my “days off” (HA!!) were spent running errands while Nez recuperated (i.e. slept and watched MSNBC in his hotel room). While returning to the hotel from the laundromat in Nashville, I was grateful my Uber driver took a wrong turn: I got to see 6th St from the backseat after Nez had broken his promise to take me the night before. He came through for me in Boston, though. Despite the rain, he felt well enough to happily venture out in an Uber so he could show me the Mother Church. Disappointingly the church was closed due to construction -- and the visit took an incredible turn away from my expectations into modern art. Nez led me into the Mapparium at the Mary Baker Eddy Library, a three-story stained glass globe created just before the Second World War. We stood and pointed out cities and countries to each other -- Rio, Australia, Carmel. Given the state of politics, it was comforting to stand surrounded by an illuminated world. As proven through this tour, art is healing.

#Michael Nesmith #mike nesmith #first national band #first national band redux

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mysoretraveltaxisblog · 3 years

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Astounding Places to Explore on your Journey from Mysore to Coorg

As I indicated in my last piece, the journey from Mysore to Coorg is a magnificent experience. So, if you have some more spare time on your hands while travelling from Mysore to Coorg, here are a few more places to see and things to do.

We had a terrific day touring places on my way to Coorg from Mysore as I followed the Kushalnagara route. Let me now take you on a ride through some of the most beautiful places you could visit if you chose one of the alternative routes from Mysore to Coorg on the way.

The two other routes through which you could travel places are Channnarayapatna and Nagarhole route.

Let me sketch a vivid picture of the sights you can see along these two paths.

Popular places to explore on the route from Mysore to Coorg via Channnarayapatna

Chennakesava Temple: It is a huge temple in Channnarayapatna known for its bracket figures depicting dancing and ritual poses.

Chenna denotes beauty, but Kesava represents Lord Vishnu. The temple is said to have taken over 100 years to complete. The task was begun by King Vishnuvardhana and finished by his grandson.

The stunning Chennakesava temple in Belur is a monument to the Dravidians incredible creativity. I've visited the Chennakesava temple at least twice, and each time it has enthralled me with its incredible sculptures and complex artwork.

These are the few marvels of the Chennakesava temple: The temple features.

Pushkarni

Gravity pillar of lampost

Mohini and Vishnu Statues

Narasimha pillar

The ceiling within the temple

Madanikas

Lintels over the entrances

Miniature shrines

It's tough to remain calm and not feel agitated about where to gaze and what to admire because the temple is so beautiful and full of miracles.

The Manjarabad Fort : The fort is built in the form of a star and is a fine example of India's historical defence acumen.

His mediaeval fort in Sakleshpur gives a breath-taking vista of the magnificent Western Ghats. The mesmerising view of the vast Arabian Sea from the fort can likewise leave one awestruck.

The views of the expansive vistas of the hillscape and the sea from a height of around 3200 feet above sea level are a sight that will stay in your heart forever.

Those looking to get their adrenaline racing will be interested in learning about the climb up to the Manjarabad fort. Though this trip may be challenging for some, the spellbinding view that you will witness is well worth the effort.

The months of June to February are ideal for visiting. The place is open from 8:00 am to 6:00 pm.

Bisle Ghat: Bisle View Point is the place to go if you want to see some breath-taking views of the famous Western Ghats. The tranquilly of the setting will enchant you. If you are travelling to Coorg as a tourist, you must not miss this attraction. You will feel far away from the madding mob once you get to this tourist attraction.

Bisle viewpoint is located near Bisle Ghat and offers spectacular views of the nearby Doddabetta, Pushpagiri, and Kumaraparvatha mountain ranges and Yenikallu Betta.

What a View... Oh, It's So Beautiful.

Tourists consider Bisle View Point to be one of the most adventurous entrances because of the hiking path that leads to the viewpoint. In addition, visitors can enjoy the breath-taking views from the magnificent panorama view.

The journey to this location is quite curvy, but it is a terrific experience. Of course, one has to prefer to go in the morning. As you reach that place, you will forget about all the pain once you see the vista.

The sight of a flowing river and colourful trees adds to the beauty of nature. It should be on your wish list if you are a nature lover.

Bisle ghat can be visited from September to December.

Mallalli Falls: The falls are a few kilometres away from Bisle Ghat and are pure and blissful, with plenty of photo opportunities and natural beauty.

Mallalli Falls, a gorgeous milky-white waterfall in the Kodagu area of Karnataka, India, is the state's pride. Tourists are enchanted by the majesty and grandeur of the cascading falls, which are located 26 kilometres from Somwarpet at the base of the Pushpagiri Hills.

It begins when the Kumaradhara River plunges more than 1000 metres and then follows a natural course to the Arabian Sea. Then, taking in the splendour of the verdant rainforests, the surrounding environment, and the river flows deep from the Mallalli Falls' source.

When at Malalli falls, there are a few things you can do.

Adventure Jeep Drive

Trek to Mallalli Falls

River Rafting in Mallalli Falls

Mallalli Falls is open Monday through Friday from 9 am to 5 pm. A tour of the falls typically takes three to four hours.

Popular places to explore from Mysore to Coorg via Nagarhole

Nagarhole National Park and the Tiger Reserve is a must-visit place. The Park is home to Asiatic elephants and diverse fauna and flora, waterfalls, and forested land.

The Park comprises parts of the Kabini River within the core region, allowing visitors to watch wildlife from a boat or a private jeep. Like any other Central Indian parks, Nagarhole offers two daily safaris, one in the morning and the other in the afternoon. But, again, visitors can pick between viewing the wildlife from a boat or a car (primarily Cantors).

We were fortunate enough to spot tigers on our first safari here, and it was an unforgettable experience. It's amazing how the forest department drivers communicate about the sighting and make sure you get to the right location.

We started driving in the jungle around 7 am in morning. The forest roads will be closed from 6 pm until 6 am. The Park is open from 6.45 am to 8.45 am and from 4 pm to 6 pm in the evening.

Raja’s seat

The Seat of the Kings, also known as Raja's Seat, is a prominent tourist spot in Madikeri. The place was called after the kings of Coorg who visited it in the past.

The Raja's seat provides a panoramic view of the surrounding country, including lush valleys, high hills, and rice fields. It is best to visit the Raja's seat either early in the morning or during the sunset.

Photographers who come here love capturing golden moments of the sun rising over mist-covered valleys. Then, when the sun prepares to leave us with its golden grin during the evening, a similar image is created.

However, there is a toy train safari here that will keep you entertained for hours. It will take you around the gardens around the Raja's Seat. You can capture beautiful shots of the seasonal blooms or get a stunning perspective of the valley during your garden ride.

Rajas seat on weekdays are open from 6:00 am to 8:00 pm, and on weekends, it is available from 6:00 am to 7:30 pm.

Irupu Falls

Irupu Falls, also identified as the Lakshmana Tirtha Falls, is a beautiful freshwater cascade. It is a cascading waterfall that cataracts down the Bramhagiri hills in Karnataka's Coorg district, tucked among the woods. The enthralling splendour of this cascade attracts a tremendous number of visitors.

The Iruppu Falls' rushing water is also a great place to go trekking. As you sit and submerge your feet in its water, the cool water of the falls will relax and revive you after a strenuous hike, allowing you to forget about your worries. With the right planning, you may have the best trekking experience you've ever had at Iruppu Falls.

You can get to Iruppu Falls by taking Kutta Road from Gonikoppal to Nagarhole National Park.

The greatest time to visit the Iruppu Falls to appreciate its mesmerising beauty is during the monsoon and winter months, from August to January.

Bottom Line

From Mysore to Coorg, these are some of the great spots to visit. These destinations will provide you with plenty of thrills, excitement, harmony, and, most importantly, pure delight!

So, plan your vacation ahead of time to guarantee you don't miss out on any of these must-see locations. In addition, I hope you found the Mysore-Coorg Road Trip information above helpful.

#Mysore Sightseeing Taxi #Mysore Bangalore Airport Taxi #Cabs in Mysore #Bangalore to Mysore Cab

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aliciabuncle · 5 years

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Why reducing carbon emissions from cars, trucks and ships will be so hard

The race to get rid of transportation emissions is getting off to a slow start. AP Photo/Terrin Waack

A growing number of cities, states and countries aim to dramatically reduce or even eliminate carbon emissions to avert catastrophic levels of climate change.

Ideas about how to get this done as soon as possible, including those Democratic lawmakers like Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez have sketched out in the Green New Deal framework. But most energy experts see two basic steps as essential.

First, stop relying on fossil fuels to generate most electricity. Second, the whole world should – sooner rather than later – use all that cleaner electricity to power transportation, agriculture and the heating and cooling of homes and businesses. The logical goal should be to get as many consumers to buy zero-emission vehicles as quickly as possible, right?

Maybe not. Our research on consumer behavior and the environmental impacts of automotive transportation leads us to expect that the transition to electric cars, trucks and ships will be dramatically harder that it sounds.

Tailpipe emissions

The roughly 250 million cars, SUVs and pickup trucks on U.S. roads today account for 60% of transportation emissions. The 11.5 million big trucks that move freight around generate another 23% and aircraft are responsible for 9% of those greenhouse gas emissions.

One reason why it will be hard if not impossible to convert all U.S. transportation to electric models within a decade or two is simple. Vehicles of all kinds are surprisingly durable.

We’ve determined that the average American car, truck and SUV remains in use for 16.6 years with many logging 200,000 miles or more.

When we researched how fast the nation’s entire fleet turns over, we found that even if every U.S. vehicle sold were electric starting today, it would take until 2040 for 90% of vehicles in use to be electric.

U.S. sales of electric drive vehicles have grown steadily since the all-electric Nissan Leaf and Chevy Volt plug-in hybrid launched in 2010. In 2018, Americans bought 361,307 battery-powered plug-in electric cars, and 2,300 hydrogen fuel cell vehicles, which like EVs produce no tailpipe emissions. Yet even following a big spike in sales in 2018 when Tesla’s mass-market Model 3 was launched, EVs still only account for less than 2% of new vehicle sales.

The reality is most Americans buying new passenger vehicles today are shopping for gasoline-fueled SUVs and pickup trucks.

EV improvements

Cheaper batteries, government subsidies and corporate innovation have all made EVs much more affordable and functional.

Owning EVs, however, remains inconvenient. There are too few charging stations to make these vehicles viable for everyone and EV driving range declines significantly in cold weather.

Also, with less than 0.5 percent of the vehicles on the nation’s roads being electric, EVs don’t yet strike most Americans as mainstream. What’s more, vehicles that run gasoline are getting more fuel-efficient, and gas prices are at historically low levels, diminishing the financial appeal of EV ownership.

The average American vehicle remains in use for 16 years or more. AP Photo/Rich Pedroncelli

Government incentives

The federal government has been giving EV buyers a $7,500 tax credit since 2010 that encourages more drivers to plug in. But the policy was designed to be phased out: Once a manufacturer sells 200,000 EVs, this incentive is phased out for their customers over the following 12 months. GM and Tesla, the two companies that have done the most to sell EVs in the U.S., will lose access to this incentive first unless legislation pending in Congress becomes law.

Smaller tax credits are available for plug-in hybrids. However well-intentioned, this bias may be unhelpful because Americans who buy new vehicles have largely demonstrated they just aren’t ready to make the leap to going fully electric yet.

States are also providing incentives. California, Oregon and eight Northeastern states follow the Zero Emissions Vehicle mandate that requires automakers to sell increasing numbers of EVs. The rest of the country follows the Corporate Average Fuel Economy standards, which instead require automakers to reduce the average emissions from the new vehicles they sell.

Seriously trying to reduce the carbon footprint of American transportation would require much more predictable policies sending a strong signal to American drivers that their next car should be environmentally friendly. A carbon tax, in our view, would work better than complicated fuel-economy regulations. But even if one could be implemented in the U.S., it might not suffice.

Ultimately, the switch from fossil-fueled to electric vehicles is a classic chicken-and-egg problem. Most drivers won’t let go of their gas tanks until they are confident that finding a place to quickly charge their automotive batteries will be as easy as finding a gas station is today. But no one will spend the money building all that charging infrastructure until there’s a bigger market.

The government can help solve this problem by subsidizing the chickens or the eggs or both. But before that happens, there would need to be more consensus on what the future carbon-free technology will look like. Battery-powered EVs are currently ahead of the pack, but many advocates of vehicles powered by hydrogen still trust that their technology of choice will take off.

Pragmatic solutions

One strategy we think could help is actively encouraging drivers to buy plug-in hybrid vehicles. These vehicles can go up to 50 miles or more without burning any gasoline, further than the 31.5 miles average driving Americans travel daily.

Yet they still have a gasoline engine to overcome any range anxiety that drivers may experience brought about by the lack of recharging infrastructure they may encounter on long trips.

Getting drivers to buy more plug-in hybrids would also help to bring about a complete transition to purely electric mobility by continuing to bring down the cost of key components such as batteries, and building demand for charging stations from coast to coast.

Finally, we believe that strong new government incentives would be required to eliminate emissions from freight-hauling trucks. The trucking industry is taking steps in that direction, such as Tesla’s plans to roll out big electric rigs and Toyota’s partnership with the Kenworth Truck Co. to make 18-wheelers powered by hydrogen fuel cells. But progress is slow.

David Keith receives funding from the MIT Energy Initiative and the MIT Sloan Sustainability Initiative, whose financial partners and advisory board members include energy, automotive, technology and consulting companies, utilities and non-profit organizations.

Christopher R. Knittel does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Why reducing carbon emissions from cars, trucks and ships will be so hard published first on https://decalsgraphicstore.tumblr.com/

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itsworn · 5 years

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Origins of the iconic 1963 Corvette Sting Ray split-window design

In 2015, hemmings.com posted a story about an obscure car called a 1938 Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine. Maybe 10 were built, the exact numbers are not known; and four or five raced at the 24 Hours of Le Mans in 1937, 1938 and 1939. One of the cars took a 1,500cc Class win. Today, only three are known to exist. The styling is late 1930’s German aero: rounded front; wraparound windshield and a long, tapered tail. This is a quirky-looking car … until you get to the back of the roof. Wow! It’s a Sting Ray with a split rear window and two round taillights on each side!

The Sting Ray story is that in 1957, young GM designer Peter Brock sketched the basic design, as per Bill Mitchell’s loose direction for the next Corvette: “Mitchell’s” Corvette! Around the same time, Chevrolet general manager Ed Cole wanted all 1960 Chevrolets (Corvette included) to use a transaxle for better weight distribution and improved interior space. Brock’s design was used for the body of the Q-Corvette and included a fastback; but not what we know today as the Sting Ray. A fullsize clay model was created, but due to cost, the overall project fell apart and only the Corvair got a transaxle. Brock left the company shortly afterward.

When Mitchell acquired the mule chassis from Duntov’s Corvette SS racer, he had Larry Shinoda take Brock’s Q-Corvette shape and make a roadster body to fit the chassis. This became the Stingray Racer. When it was decided that the Stingray Racer shape would be the styling direction for the next Corvette, Mitchell gave the assignment to Shinoda. But the Stingray Racer was a roadster, and Mitchell wanted a convertible and a fixed roof coupe for the new Corvette. So how did Shinoda come up with the now-iconic Sting Ray roof? Everyone just assumed that Shinoda or Mitchell designed it, and no one ever asked.

In July 2015, I wrote a post about the Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine on my corvettereport.com blog site, as part of my “Corvette Odd-Ball” section. In September 2018, I got an email from a man in Florida named James McLynas telling me that he found my story and that back in the late 1980s he owned a 1938 Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine. I got his phone number and we had a very interesting conversation.

The 1963-’67 Corvette Sting Ray coupe roof is one of the all-time great automotive styling elements. Photo: GM Archives

McLynas explained that he’s always liked unusual cars. One day in the late 1970s, in Michigan, he saw the back end of an unusual-looking car parked in an old man’s side yard shed. Thinking it was a Corvette Sting Ray, McLynas knocked on the door of the house and met the eccentric owner, Rubin Halprin. When McLynas asked about the old Sting Ray, Halprin went off on him. “Ha! That was Hitler’s car! That’s not a Sting Ray! That’s a 1938 Adler Trumpf! It was raced at Le Mans and won its class! Those bastards at Chevrolet photographed my car, stole my design (Halprin did not “design” the car) and made it into the Sting Ray!” Halprin was a serious hoarder and a real crank.

Halprin went on to explain that he bought the car for $2,000 or $3,000 from a retired Air Force officer that brought the car back from Germany in the mid-1950s. The paint was bad so Halprin gave the car a $19.95 Earl Scheib blue paintjob and used the car for years as his daily driver. One day in July 1959, Halprin took a bunch of local kids to the State Fair. While at the fair, GM Styling executive David Holls and a co-worker approached Halprin and asked if he would bring his unique car to the GM Tech Center. Thinking that GM was going to buy the car and he’d make a nice profit, Halprin had a friend follow him to the Tech Center so that he’d have a ride home.

Holls met Halprin at the tech center with a photographer to document the car. After the pictures were taken, Holls thanked Halprin and that was that. Well, Halprin is royally pissed. He cussed them out, left all steamed up, and was surly about it the rest of his life. A few years later the car was stolen then recovered with the car’s nose banged up. Eventually, the car wouldn’t run anymore so Halprin pushed it into his shed.

In 1985, McLynas happened to be in Michigan and thought he’d look for the old Adler Trumpf. Halprin still had the car, only by then the shed had fallen down and the car’s condition was even worse. McLynas has affection for unusual cars, so he worked a deal with Halprin and bought the car.

The shape of the Sting Ray’s roof and sharp creases fit perfectly with the shapes of the fender humps. The only other car to use this unique design was the 1971-’73 Buick Riviera. Illustration: K. Scott Teeters

McLynas didn’t do much with the car and eventually sold it in 1990 to the Black Hawk Collection. The new owners gave the car a total restoration with the help of a prison work program that taught auto restoration skills to inmates wanting to learn a trade. Years later, the 1938 Adler Trumpf won a class at Pebble Beach, was purchased by a private collector, taken to Austria and never seen again.

After McLynas sold the car, he heard that retired GM Design Director David Holls was to be one of the judges at a concours car show. McLynas went to the show to specifically ask Holls if the Adler Trumpf that he bought from Halprin, had been photographed at the GM Tech Center. Holls explained that he couldn’t talk then because he was judging the show, but offered to have him over to his house. Holls said, “I think I know what you want to know.”

The following week, McLynas visited Holls in his studio. After they had lunch, McLynas asked, “Did GM take the roof design from the Adler Trumpf and use it for the 1963 Sting Ray?” Holls then took out a binder and showed McLynas the photos of Halprin’s 1938 Adler Trumpf. McLynas was looking at his car; the day eccentric old Rubin Halprin took to car to the tech center thinking he was going to get a lot of money. Instead, all he got was a “thank you.”

Holls then said, “Let me answer your question.” (All the while nodding his head up and down) “This car had nothing to do with the Sting Ray.” Holls also had snap shots taken the day he saw the car at the State Fair.

What happened was this; the GM designer photographed an unusual-looking car, one of maybe 10 ever built before World War II that survived the war, eventually becoming a G.I.’s “spoil of war.” Bill Mitchell was GM’s Sr. VP of Design and racing his Stingray Racer on his own dime. But what he was really doing, besides having fun, was testing the public’s reaction to the Stingray’s unique shape. Mitchell saw the photos of the Adler Trumpf’s roof, handed the photos to Shinoda, and instructed him, “This is want I want.” Everything comes from something. The fact that the Sting Ray’s roof shape came from the Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine in no way detracts from the iconic Corvette. Mitchell had a keen eye for design and intuitively knew his Corvette had to have the Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine’s roof. Vette

The Adler Trumpf Company produced automobiles in Germany from 1932 to 1938. When this car was built in 1936-’37, it was considered advanced aerodynamic design. After World War II and by the 1950s, it was just a quirky-looking European car. Coincidently, the car’s wheelbase is 98 inches, the same as the C2 Sting Ray. Photo: www.dieselpunks.org.com

The Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine (racing sedan) was styled by airship designer, aerodynamicist Paul Jaray. The car’s basic profile shape was half of a lighter-than-air airship; rounded in the front and tapering back into flat wings on each side. The roof featured a curved windshield that wrapped around and tapered back to form a teardrop shape. This was very advanced for 1937. Photo: RM Sotheby’s

After attending the 1957 Turin Auto Show, Sr. VP of Design Bill Mitchell came home with a packet of photos of the Abarth 750 and Abarth Alfa 1000 Speed Record cars. He instructed his designers to produce sketches based on the Speed Record cars. This was one of 19-year-old Peter Brock’s sketches. Mitchell commanded, “This is what I want!” Photo: GM Archives

Working from a space buck designed by Duntov for Ed Cole’s Q-Chevrolet transaxle program, Brock and his stylist co-workers created a fullsize clay model. The final clay model had two rear window configurations, but the overall look was not yet what we know as the “Sting Ray.” Photo: GM Archives

The view from the back is amazing: teardrop coupe roof, split-window and two pairs of dual taillights. Photo: RM Sotheby’s, Illustration: K. Scott Teeters

Here’s the Adler Trumpf at the 1937 24 Hours of Le Mans. The Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine looks like a space ship surrounded by jalopies. By the time the 24 Hours of Le Mans started again in 1949 after World War II, streamlined coupes and open roadsters were becoming common.

Three Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine cars raced in the 24 Hours of Le Mans event in 1937. Every Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine was handmade and slightly different. Note that cars No. 33 and No. 34 have the bug-eye headlights. Car No. 35, in the back, has faired in headlights and is the car that Halprin owned and was photographed at the GM Tech Center in July 1959.

Here are the drivers of the Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine in the 1937 24 Hours of Le Mans: Fritz “Huschke” von Hanstein (aka, “The Racing Barron”) and Anne-Cecile Rose-Itier. Anne was the ninth woman to drive in the 24 Hours of Le Mans and competed in 1934, 1935, 1937 and 1939. Fritz and Anne were black-flagged for an improper fuel stop and were a DNF. The car had a crude four-wheel independent suspension, a four-cylinder engine with 56 horsepower that was cooled by a gravity-fed oil system and front-wheel-drive.

Above: Adler Trumpf car No. 33 raced at the 1938 24 Hours of Le Mans. This is the car that was photographed at the GM Tech Center. Bottom: This car raced at the 1939 24 Hours of Le Mans. Every Adler Trumpf car was handmade and slightly different. This version had a more streamlined roof and no rear quarter-windows.

This is another Adler Trumpf on display in Berlin. The roofline just screams “Sting Ray” and fit perfectly on Peter Brock’s design that Larry Shinoda was working on for the 1963 Sting Ray. Photo: www.flicker.com

After World War II, the surviving Adler Trumpf cars were used as daily drivers. One car was exported to America and eventually became part of Jimmy Brucker’s “Movie World Cars of the Stars and Planes of Fame” museum in Buena Park, California. Photo: www.justacarguy.com

When James McLynas visited retired GM Director of Design Dave Holls, he took photos of Holls’ photo album. The young woman in the photos is Anne-Cecile Rose-Itier at Le Mans in 1937. Photo: James McLynas Collection

GM Design Director Dave Holls took this photo of Halprin’s Adler Trumpf at the 1959 Michigan State Fair. Holls asked Halprin to bring his car to the GM Tech Center where it was photographed. The images were no doubt shown to Mitchell and Shinoda. Months later a full-size clay study of the XP-720 with the Adler Trumpf roof was shown to GM’s management and the project for the next Corvette was approved.

These three photographs are part of the GM Heritage Center Archives and are irrefutable proof of Rubin Halprin’s story. The photos are dated 7-27-59. Photo: GM Heritage Center

Bill Mitchell charged Larry Shinoda to take the styling of his Stingray Racer and make it into a car that could be manufactured as a convertible and a coupe. On October 20, 1959, the full-size clay Project XP-720 was on display for GM management viewing, with the Adler Trumpf “Sting Ray” roof. Photo: GM Archives

By the time James McLynas bought the Adler Trumpf in 1985, Rubin Halprin’s car had become a derelict. Photo: James McLynas Collection

Note how different the roofline of Halprin’s car is from the car the raced at Le Mans in 1939. This roofline is similar to the 1963 four-seater Corvette study. Photo: James McLynas Collection

There’s a strange kind of beauty with barn find, junkyard and side yard find cars. Photo: James McLynas Collection

Meet eccentric Rubin Halprin. Had he not bought his Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine from a G.I. in Michigan, we probably never would have had the iconic look of the 1963-’67 Sting Ray. Photo: James McLynas Collection

Here’s James McLynas helping to load up his Le Mans-winning Adler Trumpf. I’m certain that Halprin’s neighbors were very happy to see the car gone. Photo: James McLynas Collection

It’s hard to believe this is Rubin Halprin and James McLynas’s Adler Trumpf Rennlimousine. At least this unique car had a happy ending. Photo: www.wallpapermania.com

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z-poo · 6 years

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THE ROAD TO RAJASTHAN

With the Diwali festivities behind us, it was time to commence with the next chapter of our stay in India. In keeping with our North American and Kentucky trips, we decided to take a road trip. For whatever reason, this is our favorite way to travel together. Maybe it’s because our first big shared vacation was a massive journey in my car, or maybe it’s just that our travel style naturally lends itself to the freedom and flexibility of the open road and having our own set of wheels. Whatever the reason, we seem to do some sort of road trip on every adventure we take.

This time around, we enlisted the help of Pooja’s family driver Amet, who was mentioned and pictured in the first India entry during our day trips into Delhi. He went away with us for four days and three nights into the state of Rajasthan, a desert region southwest of Delhi. For once, I didn’t have to do any driving...what a luxury! We found out early in the trip that Amet was Christian. We figured he probably kept this to himself because Pooja’s family members, his employers, are Sikh. Perhaps he saw us as American outsiders and this made him comfortable enough to hang a cross on the rearview mirror during our time away:

I later came to wonder if he hung the cross for protection due to his terrifying, reckless driving. We got on the road early to make the most of our day; Amet picked us up at dawn. The drive started out very easy, with minimal traffic and some minor tolls. Something I like about India’s highway system is that you can travel round-trip with one toll payment the same day. We saw some interesting things as we passed through the more impoverished villages, including an elephant walking down the main town road (regrettably I didn’t catch a picture). We also saw plenty of mopeds and motorcycles with whole families riding together:

No helmets, no restrictions! Once we entered the city limits of Jaipur, we were having trouble finding the hotel we had booked, so we resorted to India’s standard system of navigation. This essentially means stopping every hundred feet or so to get an update on which direction to head next. We asked one uncle (a gentleman stranger) riding a bike who was helpful enough to ride along with us and keep us on track:

We finally found the hotel and experienced quite the ordeal when we tried to check in. The manager would not let me and Pooja stay in the room together because we were unmarried and I had an American passport. Apparently this is a countrywide policy, but it was terrible news after driving four hours and planning the road trip meticulously. Pooja was furious and gave the guy a piece of her mind before calling a family member who connected her with the chief of police in Jaipur. She handed the phone over to the hotel manager and we watched his face change slowly as he was scolded by a stranger. The end result was that he apologized and gave us a better room than the one we had booked. We dropped off our many bags in the room and went back out into town.

Our first stop was the famous Jal Mahal, or “Water Palace.” It is built out in the middle of a lake called Man Sagar:

We were depressed to find that the banks of the lake and the surrounding walkways were lined with old garbage. There were unofficial vendors selling whole loaves of bread that people would buy and throw by the slice into the water to watch the birds feed on them. Once they ran out of bread they would just throw the empty plastic bag in the water too. It was tough navigating the water’s edge without stepping on broken glass or something unpleasant:

The whole situation made it hard to enjoy what would have otherwise been an impressive piece of architecture in a scenic lake. India could be one of the most beautiful countries in the world if not for the garbage. Next we drove back to the Johari Bazar, the man market of Jaipur. We parked in a public lot and spotted a group of people who made me feel a little less like a tourist:

Note the one guy with the front-mounted backpack to ward off thieves. We walked the markets a bit and admired the colorful architecture. Jaipur is known as the “Pink City,” and it’s easy to see why when you’re looking up at all the pinkish walls of the surrounding palace and dwellings. We walked the market in both directions, perusing the selections of fabrics, bangles, hats and spices. I was on the lookout for some colorful blankets to bring home to the women in my family, but nothing stood out to me or lived up to what I was hoping to find in the famous market. Just as I had given up, we stumbled into the perfect spot. The initial appeal was that the shopkeepers, who were Muslim, weren’t hounding us about bargains or trying to lure us in; they were very calm and welcoming and let us have a look with some privacy. I ended up buying five and Pooja bought three, and they gave us a very reasonable price. The owner waved goodbye as we left:

On the way back to the car we got caught in a downpour and had to take shelter in a tiny jewelry store for about 20 minutes. The young man running that shop spoke about four languages and shared all sorts of stories about his experiences selling items and meeting tourists (I found him to be a bit tiresome). Pooja ended up picking out a nice bracelet and we finished our walk to the car once the rain let up. We made it back to the hotel by 7:00PM and relaxed for the rest of the night. At one point we walked around the corner to a Subway and ate “Mexican patty” subs.

The next day we got up early to visit Hawa Mahal (Palace of the Winds), the top tourist destination of Jaipur. We were the first ones to buy tickets and enter the palace, so for a little while we had the whole place to ourselves to explore and take photos. The design is very iconic and representative of the city, and even more impressive from inside:

Near the entrance there is a room lined with beautiful stained glass windows that are unlike any I saw in the rest of the palace, or the country for that matter:

Pooja had a blast taking photos in the morning light coming through the arched windows:

Supposedly the windows facing out onto the main market street were for the women of the palace to observe the going-ons of the city without being seen by the people below:

At one point we were both wandering around taking photos and captured each other in the same moment:

It’s easy to get lost in there, because just when you think you’re going to reach a dead end it opens up into another courtyard with high towers on all sides and doors in all directions leading further in:

After a while the place started to fill up with visitors. A couple of Indian kids asked Pooja to pose for a photo with them, probably because they were amused by her white hair. Then they wanted a photo of us, probably because I’m white. We decided it was time to move on with our day and found our way back to the entrance. On the way out we caught a glimpse of the security guard keeping a vigilant eye:

Our next stop in Jaipur that day was Jantar Mantar. This is the site of large stone instruments used for astronomical study in the 1700s. It’s a fascinating place; unfortunately, it is in the middle of an especially dirty part of town. The gardens within the site itself are maintained nicely and the world’s largest sundial is impressive:

Pooja and I got a lot of stares while we walked through the maze of similar staircases and instruments. An unmarried, mixed race couple walking around in India, especially outside a major city like Bombay, is a site seldom seen to most locals. We made one more stop in the city, which was the Hanuman Temple. We took a long walk down a very crowded street and basically turned around once we got there. We had some confusion with Amet, the driver, when we found that he had moved the car. We got in touch with him and he picked us up. We made an impromptu stop at McDonald’s on our way out of town heading to the next city of our road trip. As we waited in line, a group of three boys were talking behind us and laughing. Pooja then turned and told them that if they had something to say about her they could say it to her face. That stopped them with their mouths open and they didn’t say a thing until we were through the line. Apparently they had been openly mocking her hair. It worked to our advantage during our whole trip in India that no one there expected her to speak fluent Hindi.

We made it to the city of Ajmer in good time, rattled by Amet’s terrifying highway driving. We checked into the hotel with ease, and it turned out to be a much better place to stay than the first. There was parking inside a guarded lot and a room full of bunk beds intended for drivers, where Amet slept (I had awkwardly found out that he would sleep in the car the previous night in Jaipur). Pooja and I walked to a liquor store a few blocks away before dark, and I started to get sketched out by the attention we seemed to attract and the lack of women walking around. We ended the night watching the 2003 live action version of “Peter Pan” on DVD with my laptop and passed out early.

The next day we walked the poverty-stricken streets of Ajmer to Sharif Dargah, a famous Muslim shrine in India that people pilgrimage to from all over the country. Along the way we saw countless beggars and street children. It’s baffling to find yourself walking through that environment and not feeling compelled/able to help anyone. What’s particularly strange to me is that if I was travelling in a foreign country and I saw one lost child wandering the street, I would be far more inclined to stop and see if I could help them find their parents or get aid from local police. When the entire neighborhood, or city, or country is filled with thousands, if not millions of homeless or poor people in the street, however, it seems futile to get involved and it becomes perversely commonplace to witness. It’s not a proud state of mind to fall into, but I would be dishonest not to mention experiencing it.

So when we finally reached the large entrance gate to the shrine, nicknamed the “gateway to heaven,” we were already a bit shaken. The hotel had put us in contact with one of the mullahs who aids visitors in navigating the inner courtyards and conducts blessings. We called him and he met us outside the gate. We took off our shoes, covered our heads with scarfs and he led us through the gate to a private room. We then learned that we were expected to make a “donation.” There were different donation amounts that would result in different blessings. We opted for the 700 rupee donation and he gave us a basket full of flowers covered by a blanket and led us through the crowds:

We reached the shrine room, which is the main destination for all visitors, and I was tasked with carrying the basket over my head (it would have been destroyed in seconds if I carried it at my chest). The stone archway to the shrine was shorter than the average person and just narrow enough for one at a time, but it was total chaos to get in. People were pushing and shoving and we couldn’t even stand up straight with room to move our arms freely. He helped us ride the wave inside, pulled us over to a corner and threw some sort of blanket over our heads. He recited a blessing over the constant noise inside and then removed the blanket. He also instructed us to leave the basket of flowers there as an offering. We both felt very anxious being caught in the mob and were relieved to make it out and find a quiet courtyard to sit for some time. The zealotry of the worshippers there was terrifying for someone like me. Before he left us, the mullah gave us some flower petals to eat as part of the ceremony. I hesitated at first, but decided that it wasn’t going to kill me. The whole experience was disorienting and distressing. How people can find a visit there to be a religious experience is a mystery to me. The donation system also feels very transactional: give them money, they’ll shove you through a room, bless you and send you on your way having done your spiritual duty. Alright, I’ll end my ranting now.

At some point during our time in Ajmer (it’s been so long now I honestly don’t remember anymore) we stopped by Ana Sagar, a manmade lake:

It seemed like a pretty popular spot for visitors, but, like many scenic sites in the country, it was horribly polluted. I’m probably starting to sound repetitive, but my disappointment and sadness for the landscape of India was pretty constant on this trip. If only they kept their streets and parks clean, their tourism economy would probably see a lot of growth (or maybe that’s naïve speculation on my part). Regardless, it’s always a shame to see this level of pollution everywhere you turn:

We finally arrived in Pushkar, excited to enjoy the Camel Fair, an annual livestock and cultural event. We had been planning this for months before we left home for India, and it was the impetus for our Rajasthan road trip. As it turns out, the festival takes days to set up and everyone arrives in spurts, so we were way too early to see much. They basically just had the beginnings of tents set up in an otherwise empty desert:

However, we did get to see a lot of camels. Many of them were marked so they wouldn’t get mixed up in their groups:

From what we saw in our research, the whole area fills up with visitors and is totally transformed at the height of the festival. There is food, shopping and camel racing. The camel herders were all taking it easy, probably resting up before the busy week:

The more upsetting aspects of travel in India were present here as well. One kid waned to see the Pokémon dolls we take everywhere we go, and I almost handed them to him before I realized he would probably run away and steal them or try to sell them back to me. At one point a little girl came up to us and said hello. Pooja thought she was very cute and asked to take a picture, at which point the girl posed. She then held her hand out to be paid. The whole thing was clearly planned from the start, which made the moment a little less special:

Even more unsettling was when we came across a tent full of journalists and photographers, probably covering the festival for their newspaper or magazine. A group of kids went up to them and the reporters got them to dance for pictures. Pooja cynically said that the photos would end up looking spontaneous and lively, even though, just like our photo of the girl, the moment was basically paid for and took place in an empty fair:

While walking around on the dirt roads, we were passed by plenty of camels at work pulling wagons:

The most memorable moment from the fair was when we got back to the car and Pooja couldn’t get in her side of the back seat because someone was blocking the way:

Before leaving Pushkar behind, we went out to Pushkar Lake to take in the scenery. There were some women washing clothes in the water across the lake from us. Amet, the driver, started taking photos of the lake to show his wife and a group of men showed up and started accosting him for taking pictures. He tried to explain that he was married and was taking tourist pictures to show at home but they accused him of photographing bathing women and tried to take his camera away. It was pretty tense for a minute but we were able to walk away and go back to the hotel.

We were a bit irritated by the whole dud of a day during the drive home, and on top of that Amet collided with a man driving a motorcycle through town. They stopped to look at the damage and both decided to just move on. We were fortunate enough to stop and check out a great view of Ajmer on the way back into town:

Exhausted, Pooja and I made some cocktails in our room, ordered out Dominos and watched some movies on cable. We booked our hotel room for Kathmandu and called it a night. We woke up very early and left the hotel by 5:30AM. Checking out of the hotel was an unneeded pain because the guy at the front desk did not want to give us change until I raised my voice.

We wanted to drive home via Sariska National Park, which is known for its diverse wildlife and native tigers. The drive there was long and difficult as we had to constantly ask for directions while passing through rural, sparsely populated villages. We arrived in the park and were disappointed to once again see garbage all over the place:

If India cleans up nothing else, I hope they at least just fix the pollution problem in their National Parks. We were then doubly disappointed to discover that visitors are not permitted to drive through the park on their own. You need to be part of a safari to enter the park, and these have to be booked in advance. The main road is also only accessible during limited hours. None of this information is available on their website, which I studied pretty thoroughly before driving out there. We decided to pass through one of the outer park roads on the way home. This led us through somewhat of a safari:

We had to move slowly to get past all the different animals spilling into the road:

We stopped to photograph a tree full of monkeys and got hissed at by one of the ones on the top branches:

After a seemingly endless commute of reckless highway driving, during which Pooja and I went to sleep due to anxiety, Faridabad was finally in view:

We were grateful to settle back into home life after our underwhelming and tiring Rajasthan adventure. The next two days were a mix of lounging at home and some trips into town for market shopping. I tried to mail some post cards and the man behind the counter at the post office tried to charge me double what I had paid the previous time until I was assertive enough to get him to give up. Once he had stamped them, I asked for them back to drop in the box outside and he tried to charge me again to mail them for me. I had to be demanding and he handed them over so I could put them in the box just outside the office. Not a single thing can be done simply; you have to work and fight and negotiate to buy something, to mail something, to get change, to go somewhere, always.

We did some final Nepal prep, such as buying some snacks and medicine and writing out a detailed trek itinerary and packing list. We went to a nearby community center and I picked up a novel called “The Inscrutable Americans,” which I finished within a few days and really appreciated for its humor and themes. It was published in the early 90s and follows a young Indian student who goes to the U.S. as part of an exchange program and attends school for the first time away from home. His alienation and confusion with American culture mirrored the adjustment I had been making since we arrived in India.

The day before we left for Nepal was Halloween. Between the hours of packing for our trip, we celebrated the holiday by watching “The Descent,” one of my favorite horror movies, and wearing masks we had brought just for the occasion:

In summation, that second week in India was when we branched out on our own and tried to replicate our American road tripping spirit in a country that is not even remotely as easy to explore freely. I became much more accustomed to the way things are done and how to get what you want. The family house in Faridabad was also starting to feel like home, especially after leaving for several nights and coming back. A totally new and drastically different journey was just ahead of us, and some of our best memories from this trip were yet to come in Nepal!

#india #rajasthan #ajmer #pushkar #camel #travel #roadtrip #vacation #asia #tourism #jaipur

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jackdylananderson · 6 years

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A Great American Roadtrip: Grand Canyon to Vegas

January 6th, 2018

We woke up in good time, grabbed some McD's breakfast burrito's and hit the road up towards the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.

Two things of note: First, we couldn't believe the scenery through here. Arizona has like 4 different terrains: Forest, Red Rock, Desert-like and what I like to call "wheaty and tumbleweed-y."

Second: Despite the fact that I thought I had already seen the Grand Canyon on a trip with my sister and grandparents, I was wrong. That was some canyon in Texas. So all of a sudden, I was pretty excited to see this grand old thing. Spoiler alert: this canyon was a lot bigger.

We had a couch to surf in Vegas that night, so we were pretty efficient with the Grand Canyon trip. But man. That canyon was BIIIIIIG. As big as Texas and taller than Jordan. Way taller than Jordan.

I had no idea that canyon was so dang HUGE! It goes for miles, man!

We hiked a spot pretty far down and at this point we both feel like accomplished hikers and very sore from hiking Sedona the day before. And this particular hike was fairly steep. We took some pics and got too close to the edge. I mean, seriously, Jordan would take a stupid jump twice and then realize right after. "Oh shit dude. That was kinda a bad idea." No shit, Sherlock.

His best one was after we raced back up the hike--a foolish, foolish competition wherein I won second place. His legs are too damn long!--We found another spot to get too close to the edge and take a dumb pic. I started going down to get even closer and I realized I wasn't quiiiiiiite tall enough. Jordan hops down and, not realizing his momentum, flips and slides down some gravely rock about a foot and a half from the edge. What a dumb. Upon being down there, he realized it wouldn't be easy back up so I head back up from my middle spot.

Jordan. 6-foot-5 or something Jordan. Too long, too tall Jordan, hops up and does the classic tall guy athletic move and shoves himself up. I gotta say, short guys are more coordinated. Jordan is inching and swinging and maneuvering and swaying and turning and I swear to the deep, deep canyons below if he doesn't turn right he's gonna have a shit-ton of momentum falling down and he seriously might fall to the depths. He slides his arm up and re-positions his body slowly and next thing you know he's back up to my level. What a dumb. I don't think he had any idea of how close I was to instagramming his death.

So we got the hell out of there. Oh, did I mention we saw some elk? We did!

We trucked it to Vegas, which is the greatest sentence I've ever written. We made it in time to this Kristie's place (Couchsurfing) who invited us to a surprise party. The theme was nerds so me and Jordan looked in the car and di our best. Unfortunately, I was more of a natural.

This party was good, friendly fun with undertones of what their parties were normally like. Everybody was telling us of topless summer parties and we got swingers vibes like crazy. I can't explain it. It was in the air. Alcohol was everywhere and this was no place for kids. There was even an Instagram location tag over the pool! "Mandalay Shark Bay" or something. There was a drunk wife feeling too good so we decided it was time to hit the Strip.

Another house guest (”Frenchie”), me, Kristie and Jordan.

We actually find free parking for not too terrible of a walk. Jordan looking swag. Me looking dapper in none other than the jacket I found at that abandoned Route 66 spot. You know the one.

Jordan, being the king of walking up to anyone and sparking up a conversation, trades a couple smokes for a blunt. Pretty soon, we got passes for free cover and limo pickup for a strip club later.

We hit up some casinos and honestly I don't have the money to spare and I'm not fresh on my card games so I'm out. Jordan spent what felt like a good 10 minutes explaining craps to me, but I didn't process a word of it.

Jordan jumps in and with the swells of Ocean's 11's Vegas Casinos in my subconscious, I go into con artist mode. No I didn't do anything. I just stood behind Jordan 5 feet at all times look suspicious as hell. Sunshades fully on. I'd constantly be rotating my head and making super long eye contact with anyone I shouldn't be even glancing at. Occasionally, I'd put my hand to my ear and say, "Yes, we have the target" or "Copy that, Code Blue".

None of it meant anything, but they didn't know that. Pretty soon, I was Jordan's security guy, ending all sentences in "sir" and holding on to his phone while he played Black Jack and Craps.

Jordan was smart and left up $60 which meant, yup, we beat Vegas. Pow.

Well, he beat Vegas, but hey, without his security detail, he would've stayed in the game longer and lost it all.

So Jordan calls our ride. Next thing you know we're limo riding to the strip club. Deja Vu. Dang it. The same one we have in Nashvegas.

Now I'm no connoisseur of strip clubs. Like any grown young man, real women and Julianna Guill online videos suffice for me. But my second venture into a strip club was fascinating. Big (bigger than me), curvy women coming up and "wanting to talk". Hah, right. What they wanted was for me to buy a lap dance. Nope. The drinks were expensive, so I wasn't even paying for that.

Stripping pays shit. And the stripping was shit. Strip clubs are basically lap dance clubs with the occasional backroom sex upgrade. Pass.

I had like 6 or 7 or 9 women come up to talk to me and I can't tell you how fun it was with the shoe being on the other foot. Grown attractive women coming up to me, only for me to have to politely decline. Or, me being me, ask them what kind of music they listen to and then tell them all about the beats of Bob Dylan.

I had picked out one whom I might buy a lap dance from. When in Rome. She was thin, blonde hair, red thong. But I kept losing her.

Finally a younger, smaller girl named Dutchess comes up. I'm getting ready to annoy her, but she flips on me and laughs and goes with the bit. And, no I don't know what I was saying, I never do. But she's cool and Jordan takes note, too. We talk a little bit. She's got a boyfriend, she's going to school and this helps pay the bills. Solid. And she has a real smile. And a real nice smile.

She said it was her time to dance on stage soon, but she was shy about it. Bullshit. But we coached her anyway. Well not in choreography ("Do that one with your tits out!"). But in confidence and comfort. Little stuff I had learned from doing standup. She thanked us for our notes and hit the poles.

It was nice. A good, smile goes a long way and frankly, I like petite girls, so sue me, I enjoyed it. Maybe she was kinda shy after all, but she found a nice groove. Damn, I really shoulda got a lap dance from her.

Rule 11: GET A LAP DANCE, DUMMY.

We rode back to our car by limo and got the driver and newbie to take a couple pics. Weird part was, the dude took a while to take the pic. When Jordan got back to him, the guy immediately got out of the photos app and back to the camera app. Weeeeeeird.

Rule 12: Vegas is sketch, dude.

We got to the car, all safe, and headed back to the older lady's place where we would crash for the night.

#roadtrip #on the road #vegas #travel writing #couchsurfing

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willasumsuma412-blog · 6 years

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itsworn · 6 years

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20th Annual Corvette Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony

The National Corvette Museum was founded in 1994 in Bowling Green, Kentucky. The museum’s mission is to preserve Corvette’s evolution and history that began in 1953 and continues to the current production car. While the museum has close ties to GM and the Corvette brand, it is an independent organization that is governed by a Board of Directors. The elected board is comprised of leaders in the Corvette hobby as well as key GM employees. In 1998, the board established the National Corvette Hall of Fame. It’s purpose is to honor influential leaders who have had a positive impact on the history of Corvette. One leader is inducted into each of three categories: GM/Chevrolet, Racing and Enthusiast. Now, 20 years after the first class was enshrined, three new inductees were honored at the 2017 NCM ceremony at the museum. Here is a brief background on the three new inductees.

Jim Minneker – GM/Chevrolet

Jim Minneker joined the Pontiac Division at GM in 1970 as an engineer. Growing up in Michigan he always tinkered with engines. As a student at Michigan State University he joined a student drag racing team as a hobby and quickly found out he had a talent for winning trophies. In the early days of his fledging career he took on added responsibilities and was promoted to more responsible positions. In 1986, he was named Corvette Powertrain Systems Manager. For the next 10 years his projects included developing the fourth-generation LT1, LT4 and LT5 engines and the fifth-generation LS1 and LS6 small-blocks. In the late ’80s while working with Corvette, he attended a professional driving school and obtained his competition license. His racing career included driving road racing Corvettes for Baker Racing, Morrison Engineering & Development, and Doug Rippie Racing. Starting in 1996, Minneker competed in the One Lap of America multiple times driving Mallett Motorsports-modified Corvettes. He successfully competed in the SCCA World Challenge, IMSA Supercar, IMSA GT and Grand Am series. In March 1990, he was one of eight drivers who set the 24-Hour Speed Endurance World Record driving a showroom stock ZR-1 Corvette. The team averaged 175.885 mph, breaking a 50-year-old record.

In the early ’90s, Jim became active in the building and the design of the National Corvette Museum in Bowling Green, Kentucky. He developed displays that related to Corvette powertrain and engineering achievements to highlight the high-tech nature of the Corvette. His passion for the museum was recognized by the NCM when he was elected to the Chairman of the Board position. His leadership and vision in that one-year position helped set the course for a successful and expanding Corvette museum.

Jim became the engineering group manager for GM’s High Performance Vehicle Operations. While in that position many breakthrough products were developed for Saturn, Cadillac and other GM products. Jim left the High Performance Vehicle Operations and began developing a variety of truck engines. Today, he continues to be deeply involved in GM’s engine development programs. Jim still supports the National Corvette Museum and he is a worthy inductee into the National Corvette Museum Hall of Fame.

Tommy Morrison – Racing

Tommy Morrison was born in Glasgow, Kentucky, and grew up on Race Street. Glasgow is 26 miles from where Corvettes are born at the Bowling Green Assembly Plant. He was known for his slow-talking speaking voice, sunglasses, cowboy hats and blasting around on his Harley motorcycle. He got the “need for speed” at an early age by racing his cars around the hills of Kentucky.

In the early ’80s, Tommy Morrison’s love for his country drove him to spotlight Corvettes as being the best sports car in the world. He teamed up with Jim Cook and founded Morrison-Cook Motorsports. After Jim’s unexpected passing, the company became known as Morrison Engineering and Development. He found innovative ways to merge Corvette and Mobil 1 into an unbeatable sports car endurance racing team. His Showroom Stock Corvettes won more 24-hour races than any other team in the sport. Morrison worked closely with factory engineers to make the Corvette faster and more durable. The factory provided heavy support to Morrison Motorsports and their cars were always among the top finishers.

Tommy began working on a secret engine project called the “King of the Hill” or ZR-1. Production was scheduled for 1989, but a variety of technical issues moved that date to the 1990 model year. Eighty-four pre-production ZR-1’s were built and one, EX 5669, was used by Morrison Motorsports to break a 50-year-old 24-hour average speed record of 161.180 mph. The team averaged 175.885 mph and shattered record. This accomplishment was a huge windfall for GM marketing. It was also a high-water mark for Morrison’s Corvette racing career. Morrison Motorsports’ ZR-1s raced successfully at Daytona, Sebring, Watkins Glen, Road America and many other top U.S. racetracks. Tommy Morrison’s induction into the NCM Hall of Fame is well deserved.

Peter Brock – Enthusiast

Peter (Pete) Brock grew up in Northern California and was passionate about automotive design as a young child. When he was 16, he purchased a used 1949 MG as his daily driver. He attended his first road race in 1951 at Pebble Beach and photographed many of today’s historic drivers. Pete was surrounded by the California car culture as a youth, which included modifying anything on wheels. This influenced him to customize a 1946 Ford convertible and stuff a Cadillac engine into its engine bay. He named his creation a “Fordillac.” Pete’s Fordillac won the Oakland Roadster show twice. He was hired by GM while he was a student at the Art Center School of Design. He was 19 when he was hired as a designer at GM, one of the youngest at the time.

Bill Mitchell was a passionate racing and Corvette enthusiast. When he became VP of Styling for GM he was troubled by the company’s anti-racing stance and lack of enthusiasm for the Corvette. Word was trickling down from the corporate suites that top management wanted to kill the Corvette. He decided to secretly build a prototype Corvette using the original test chassis from the 1957 Corvette SS race car. He found the chassis in a GM storeroom and purchased it for his personal use. He quietly charged his team of young designers with the task of sketching ideas for his car in a secret styling studio deep inside GM. Mitchell selected Pete Brock’s sketch, which was refined by Brock and fellow designers Chuck Pohlmann, Larry Shinoda and Tony Lapine. The end product became the XP-87 race car and was called the Sting Ray. Dr. Dick Thompson drove the XP-87 to a C-Modified sports car championship in 1959. The Sting Ray drew wide acclaim from journalists and the public, which helped save the Corvette. The Sting Ray styling cues influenced the second-generation Sting Ray and those same styling themes can be seen on the C7 Corvette.

Brock left GM in 1963 and had a lengthy career in motorsports that included designing and building race cars like the Shelby Cobra Daytona Coupe. He has written books and articles and is an accomplished photojournalist. He has captured the history of Corvette racing from the ’50s with the first-generation Corvettes all the way to the current C7s racing today. He started Brock Racing Enterprises (BRE) and won numerous sports car championships with that company. He has worked with a number of marques over the years, but he has a special place in his heart for Corvettes, especially the Sting Ray. He’s a worthy addition to the NCM Hall of Fame. Vette

Jim Minneker was inducted into the NCM Hall of Fame in the GM/Chevrolet category. His selection honors his contribution to the development of Corvette powertrains like the LT4, LT5, LS1 and LS6 engines. It was a well-deserved recognition for his work.

In 1986, Minneker cold weather tested a prototype LT5 engine in a narrow body 1986 Corvette in Kiruna, Sweden. His test car was similar to the one shown here that includes a prototype LT5 engine. The original test car was crushed and this car is a re-creation of that car.

This is a prototype LT5 engine that was used for validation in 1986-’87. The upper intake was hand-fabricated out of aluminum. Minneker and his team spent many long hours developing this hi-tech ZR-1 engine.

Jim Minneker (standing) drove this pre-production 1989 ZR-1 convertible from Michigan to the Cypress Gardens Corvette show in 1989. Only a few of these convertibles were built for testing and were not put into production. Testing determined that the Corvette frames were not stiff enough to handle the LT5’s torque.

This 1989 prototype ZR-1 broke a 50-year-old 24-hour speed record in March 1990. Jim Minneker was one of the eight drivers who set the 24-hour average record of 175.885 mph. The ZR-1 resides in the National Corvette Museum.

Minneker was an accomplished race driver and he drove numerous races in cars powered by the LT5 engine. This included this Morrison ZR-1 entry he drove at the 1995 24 Hours of Daytona.

Mallett Motorsports built this Corvette ZR-1 into a monster race car. It was equipped with a 396ci splayed valve engine that produced 888 hp; a Paxton 2000 supercharger bumped the power to 1,050 hp. Jim Minneker (right), Dave Sarafian (middle) and Chuck Mallett take a break on a very foggy Wisconsin morning. They were heading to their next One Lap of America event at the Road America racetrack.

Minneker decided to validate the soon to be released LS6 engine for the upcoming Z06. He chose the 7,000-mile One Lap of America for this validation. This early morning photo was taken at Bryce Canyon National Park in Utah. The team finished 2nd overall out of 180+ entries.

GM’s four-cylinder EcoTech engine was undergoing a modification program in the Powertrain division. This special-bodied HHR, powered by a 1,000+hp EcoTech engine was driven by Minneker at the Bonneville Salt Flats. While traveling at 249.793 mph the parachute deployed and the car was destroyed. Fortunately, Jim survived the accident with only minor injuries.

Tommy Morrison was inducted into the NCM Hall of Fame in the Racing category. In March 1990, Morrison and his team broke a 50-year-old speed record in a Corvette ZR-1, averaging 175.885 mph over a 24-hour period. Morrison is standing next to a statue at the NCM wearing the firesuit he used to set the record.

This 1989 ZR-1 (VIN EX5669) set a 24-hour speed record in 1990. It resides at the National Corvette Museum. Standing from left to right are: Dave McLellan (Retired Corvette Chief Engineer), Tommy Morrison (Team Owner), Ralph Kramer (Retired Chevrolet PR Director), John Heinricy (GM engineer/driver) and Jim Minneker (GM engineer/driver).

At the 1994 24 Hours of Daytona this Morrison Corvette ZR-1 finished 7th overall and 4th in the GTS class. It was driven by John Heinricy, Andy Pilgrim, Boris Said and Stu Hayner.

On the grid at the 1994 12 Hours of Sebring Corvette No. 94 qualified 16th and No. 93 was 21st. Both cars finished down the order after heavy rains covered the racecourse and caused traction problems for the Corvettes.

Tommy Morrison was a very visible team manager. Here he is on the grid before the start of the 1994 12 Hour of Sebring race.

Driver John Heinricy received permission from GM to paint Morrison’s 1995 race cars with the same scheme that was going to be used on the 1996 Corvette Grand Sport. This Morrison Corvette finished 10th overall and 3rd in the GTS class at the 1995 24 Hours of Daytona. It was driven by John Heinricy, Stu Hayner and Andy Pilgrim.

Morrison Engineering & Development was located Albany, Georgia. He had enough storage to house his many race cars and his Mobil 1 transporter. Of course, he also had enough room for his beloved Harley.

Robert Pfeffer owns these two Morrison ZR-1 race cars. Pfeffer keeps both cars in pristine condition and frequently participates with them in vintage racing events.

Peter Brock was inducted into the NCM Hall of Fame in the Enthusiast category. Pete (right) is all smiles as he receives his 2017 NCM Hall of Fame award from Randy Wittine.

Pete Brock is holding his winning trophy that he received at the Oakland Roadster show. He was honored twice at this show for his redesigned 1946 Ford convertible named the “Fordillac.”

This was the drawing that caught Bill Mitchell’s attention that led to the final development of the XP-87 Sting Ray racer. Pete was 19 years old when he made this drawing in GM’s styling studio.

The chassis that was used to develop this 1957 Corvette SS race car was used on the XP-87 Sting Ray racer.

Pete Brock worked for Bill Mitchell (in the background), the VP of Styling for General Motors. Brock’s early drawing of the XP-87 led to the development of the Sting Ray that Pete is leaning on. VP of Global Design Ed Welburn (retired) had the car completely refurbished by the Heritage Center when he was still with the company.

From any angle, the design of the Sting Ray racer had a heavy influence on the second-generation production car.

Even the hood vents on the XP-87 made it onto the production car when it was introduced as a 1963 model.

Pete Brock was Carroll Shelby’s first employee and he designed the first Cobra Daytona Coupe, shown here residing at the Simeone Foundation Automotive Museum in Philadelphia.

Pete Brock was not only a stylist; he became an accomplished race car driver. Here he’s shown as a racing instructor for Carroll Shelby’s driving school.

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