Musta love Season 1 Episode 1

Part 5: Amazing In Depth Essay About Sopranos Symbolism and Subtext (credit: FlyOnMelfisWall source: thechaselounge.net)

2020.08.06 05:49 FunPeach0 Part 5: Amazing In Depth Essay About Sopranos Symbolism and Subtext (credit: FlyOnMelfisWall source: thechaselounge.net)

Tony Defies His Father’s Life Lessons

Season 6, part 2, depicted Tony as a heavy gambler, one who risked far more money more often than had ever been suggested before. While he always profited significantly from bookmaking and loansharking enterprises (his own and those of his crew), his personal wagering was limited and low-key in the first five and a half seasons, consisting mostly of casual card games or the odd day at a casino or racetrack. He certainly had never been depicted as the kind of man who gambled enough to endanger his liquidity or to necessitate six-figure loans just to stay even with his bookies, which describes the state of affairs in the episode Chasing It.
His gambling problem becomes so significant in that episode that it’s even addressed in therapy. Tony admits he’s been sending “good money after bad” but quickly defends the practice. “If you couldn’t lose, what’s the fuckin’ point, huh? See, you need the risk,” he tells Melfi. She asks, “What are you chasing? Money or a high from winning?” His shake of the head indicates that he doesn’t really know the answer to her question.
Many viewers couldn’t provide an answer either and felt this sudden gambling crisis reflected a writing failure, an attempt to manufacture drama by imposing unnatural or contradictory behavior on a well-established character. I felt a bit that way myself until I began to consider the gambling in light of Tony’s contemporaneous, burgeoning, and subconscious anger towards his father at that point in the series. In that context, the gambling began to make perfect sense, and, once again, it all goes back to the night of the incident involving the cleaver.
That was the night when Johnny emphatically imparted to Tony the lessons that gamblers are scum and that gamblers who borrow money and fail to make timely repayment are even bigger scum. If, in the last half of season 6, Tony’s subconscious was stuck on the cleaver incident as the true genesis for his life trajectory and was subtly pushing him to rebel against his father 35 years after-the-fact, then borrowing huge sums of money, gambling it all away, and shirking the responsibility to repay the loans would be a natural, safe course for that rebellion to take. Making Hesh the victim of his irresponsible borrowing would be a bonus, since Hesh’s age and relationship to Johnny and to Tony himself make him another natural father figure.
Of course this is exactly what happens in Chasing It. Having already borrowed 200K from Hesh in the prior episode, Tony visits his home one night. In a near-replay of his gift to Beansie, he brings Hesh a Cleaver hat while expressly denouncing the movie itself as unfit for viewing, a blatant self-contradiction reconciled only in that it signals Tony’s ongoing subconscious preoccupation with the movie’s cleaver logo and themes of violent retribution against a father figure. In any case, Tony shares gossip about Phil’s “boss” party from which he’s just returned and offers an almost stunning sentiment when Hesh questions why he left the party and the company of his crew so early. “I look at my key guys . . . what’s number one on their agenda, you know? They’re all fuckin’ murderers for Christ’s sakes,” Tony jokes, only you get the feeling he’s more serious than not. “What I’m tryin’ to say is, it’s nice bein’ here.” “Here” of course meant in the company of a guy who he fancies is able to put friendship above business, who makes his living under the auspices and protection of the mob but without directly participating in its violent aspects.
The warm fuzzy feelings disappear pretty quickly, however, when Hesh reminds Tony of the outstanding loan. Even though Hesh makes clear he is only wondering about repayment of the principal and is not looking for a “vig”,” Tony unreasonably seizes on this debt reminder as grounds for judging Hesh to be a stereotypical, money-grubbing Jew. He insists on paying Hesh a vig anyway and rubs two quarters together in derision when Hesh stops by the pork store the following week. Suddenly Tony is offended at the notion of folks collecting debts and profiting from gambling loans, something he’s unapologetically done himself directly or indirectly all his adult life. Then again, his subconscious is in a different place than it’s ever been before, fixated on the pivotal events and people in his past that contributed to him becoming what he is instead of what he’d like to have been.
The always-prescient Hesh ominously notes that this is not the usual Tony. “He’s all worked up, or something. I don’t like the way he talks. Hostile remarks. It’s not like him. Makes me worry.”
A secondary thread in this episode deals with Vito Jr. experiencing behavioral and social problems in the wake of Vito’s death. He dresses full tilt “gothic” with black lipstick, overturns headstones for fun, kills a neighbor’s cat, bullies a handicapped girl at school, and craps in the gym shower as revenge on hateful peers who tease him because his father was gay and notoriously died with a pool cue rammed up his butt.
Marie Spatafore asks Tony for $100K to move far away where Vito Jr. can start with a clean slate. Reluctant to give her that kind of money, Tony tries first to make Phil, as Marie’s cousin and Vito’s executioner, assume financial and quasi-paternal responsibility, with predictably bad results. Underscoring yet again the fatheson/surrogate theme of season 6, part 2, Tony tells Marie, “It’s not easy to substitute for a dad. I know. But maybe I can fill in here.”
Tony does talk to Vito Jr., employing a tact reminiscent of his intervention with AJ in Johnny Cakes and polar opposite of the one his father undertook with him after Satriale’s. He tries to plant or reinforce in Little Vito’s own mind a fundamentally good self-image by praising that he’s always been a “good kid.” Vito rejects Tony’s presumptuousness, noting that Tony is such a stranger to their family that he often mistakenly calls him “Carlos, Jr.” instead of “Vito Jr.” Still Tony tries to accentuate the positive. “Look, all I know is I couldn’t shut your dad up about what a good kid you were,” he scolds. “We were friends you know.” “But buddies?” Vito asks sarcastically. After excusing the zinger, Tony offers some genuine compassion for what it’s like to lose a father you loved and yet who caused you shame or disappointment at the same time. “I’m sure you miss him . . . a lot . . . whatever he was.”
Obviously this encounter is included in the story for what it says about Tony, not for what it says about Vito Jr., an inconsequential character in the overall scheme of the show. Tony’s counsel reveals his own latent conflicts, that despite what Johnny Boy was, and what Junior was, they were his father and uncle, the most important men in his life, the men who were around him throughout his formative years and who provided what measure of paternal love he knew. Not all of it was bad. Very much like what Tony recounts regarding Christopher’s childhood -- holding him as an infant and riding him around on his butcher bike -- there were endearing memories and experiences, enough that he could still love these men despite all the harm they caused him.
Little Vito is correct that Tony has no idea whether he (Vito) is an intrinsically “good kid”, and we have no idea whether Vito Sr. ever said or harped on that fact to Tony (probably not). But it doesn’t really matter whether either is true. Tony says these things because he intuitively recognizes how damaging it was to his own psyche and self image as a kid to hear his father euphemistically tell him after the cleaver incident that he innately possessed the sadistic, evil, or predatory nature to do what he witnessed in Satriale’s. He knows at a core, unconscious level that living up to his father’s concept of him was more important than living up to his fledgling concept of himself, a self-concept which, stripped of his father’s corruption, is revealed in all its relative innocence and idealism in Join the Club. That Tony is a mild-mannered salesman, loves his wife and kids so much that he sabotages his one chance at an illicit affair with an attractive woman, is naturally uncomfortable with minor credit card fraud, and is positively stunned at a level of violence in which another person merely slaps his face. So his effort to make Vito Jr. think of himself as a “good kid” and to internalize his father’s ostensible view of him as the same is Tony’s effort to help Vito Jr. avert the self-doubt and sense of innate moral inferiority that paved his own path to a life of crime.
Though I don’t think Chasing It asks us to make this juxtaposition, I can’t help but recall another, early episode featuring Hesh, Denial, Anger, Acceptance. There the Hasidic motel owner tells Tony he is a “golem”, a “monster, Frankenstien”, prompting Melfi’s question near the end of the episode, “Do you feel like Frankenstein . . . a thing, lacking humanity, lacking human feelings?” We don’t hear Tony’s answer in the therapy room, but it’s provided years later in his Test Dream when Tony the “mobster” (“monster” minus an “n” plus a “b”) runs from a torch-bearing, lederhosen-clad mob. Yes, he feels like Frankenstein, a monster, albeit one created by other people, against whom we can presume he bears a serious grudge.

Chris’ Displaced, Murderous Rage as a Precursor to Tony’s

In Walk Like a Man, Chris finds himself “ostrafied” by his mob cohorts because, in his effort to stay sober, he spends very little time with them at the Bing. When he does see them, he is ridiculed for drinking non alcoholic beverages and witnesses his once-favored status and earning opportunities in Tony’s crew being usurped by Bobby Bacala. Chris seeks Tony’s understanding for the fact that he inherited alcoholism from his mother, making sobriety especially difficult for him to maintain. But Tony doesn’t buy this “excuse”.
Tony: I know a crutch when I see it.
Chris: So my dad? You obviously musta knew he had a crutch.
Tony: What the fuck are you talkin’ about?
Chris: Com’e on, Tone, huh? Between the coke, the vodka, whatever the fuck else he was squirtin’ up his arm. Let’s be honest about the great Dickie Moltisanti, my dad, your hero. He wasn’t much more than a fuckin’ junky.
Tony is speechless. He doesn’t know what to think or say in the face of a son calmly debunking a lifetime of false paternal myth and hero worship and replacing it with naked, unvarnished, and unflattering truth. He is undoubtedly also disturbed to see the pedestal he built under another of his own father figures crash to the ground so suddenly and emphatically.
Elsewhere in the episode, Paulie provokes a squabble with Chris over stolen power tools that ultimately results in Chris beating and throwing Little Paulie out of a second story window and Paulie driving his car like a high-speed plow over the expensive new landscaping at Chris’ home while Kelly watches in terror. Tony forces a truce, which Chris seals with a drink to placate Paulie. This sacrifice and effort to fit in is rewarded when Paulie mocks Christopher’s drunken soliloquy about his daughter and makes her the butt of two cruel jokes in front of the crew. As Chris’ “friends” convulse in laughter, and especially as he absorbs the depths of betrayal written in the broad smiles of his “father figures”, Paulie and Tony, Chris storms out of the Bing and to the home of JT Dolan.
There’s a natural symmetry to him showing up in that moment at the home of the screenwriter who helped him express his covert hatred of Tony Soprano in a movie script. But on this night, the hatred spurting out of him is far more urgent and tangible. He threatens to “bring everybody down” by revealing sensitive secrets, like the truth behind the murders of Ralph and Adriana, and notes the rewards of the Witness Protection Program. He even mentions that Sammy “The Bull” Gravano is “living large” in the program in Arizona, a remark with some portent for the next episode.
JT repeatedly warns that he doesn’t want to hear these things that could get him killed and is unmoved by Chris’ plea for sympathy. “You know my father abandoned me,” Chris cries. “I thought you said he was shot,” JT fires back coldly before trying to shock Chris back to the realities of the life he chose: “Chris, you’re in the Mafia!”
Clearly Chris doesn’t subscribe to the “don’t shoot the messenger” theory. He impulsively draws his gun and blows a hole through JT’s head, but driving the action is the anger accompanying his sense of paternal betrayal and abandonment. It’s a transparently displaced act of rage reminiscent of the beatings Tony administered to Georgie through the years when the motivating anger was actually aimed at others or at himself.

A Reprise of Tony’s Paternal Guilt

Just as Christopher’s paternal hatred was exploding, Tony’s was imploding. And, once again, the explicitly acknowledged guilt Tony feels as a father and the unacknowledged blame he dispenses as a son are part of the same, swift current.
In Walk Like a Man, Tony has decided to quit therapy once and for all following Melfi’s demand that he honestly assess its value to him and whether he is serious about continuing. But before he can share his decision with her, Blanca ends her engagement to AJ, plunging the younger Soprano into a deep, suicidal depression.
When AJ cries that Blanca was “the best thing that ever happened” to him, Tony makes his most concerted effort of the series to boost AJ’s self-esteem and convince him of his intrinsic worth, telling AJ that plenty of girls would love to have a guy like him. AJ tearfully scoffs.
AJ: Yeah, right. Like I’m so special.
Tony: [earnestly] You’re damn right you are. You’re handsome and smart . . . a hard worker. And, let’s be honest, white.
I guess Tony had limited raw material to work with, but he did his best to sell all points.
AJ’s crisis causes a reversal in Tony’s decision to quit therapy, making his position in his next session paradoxical. On one hand he declares that therapy has been one big “jerk off” but allows that he is now “trapped [there] forever”.
The immediately striking aspect of this scene is that Tony is intellectually aware of the reasons for AJ’s depression: painful, personal rejection and the demise of his first, serious romantic relationship. That could happen to any young person in any walk of life with any kind of father or background and produce serious depression. But Tony’s awareness of this fact doesn’t stop him from feeling he is to blame for AJ’s plight.
Tony: Obviously I’m prone to depression . . . a certain bleak attitude about the world. But I know I can handle it. Your kids, though.
[His watery eyes and frangible voice betray the sincerity of his emotions as he continues.]
Tony: It’s like when they’re little and they get sick. You’d give anything in the world to trade places with them so they don’t have to suffer. And then to think you’re the cause of it.
Melfi: How are you the cause of it?
Tony: It’s in his blood, this miserable fuckin’ existence. My rotten fuckin’ putrid genes have infected my kid’s soul! That’s my gift to my son.
A long pause ensues as Melfi absorbs the importance of the moment. These words are almost a verbatim echo of Tony’s emotional outpouring years before in Army of One, the only time he came really close to condemning his gangster way of life and particularly its harmful effects on his son. His verbiage here is even stronger in that he speaks of having “infected [AJ’s] soul”, a metaphor with considerably greater moral and spiritual weight than implied by the innocent, biological conveyance of a defective gene for regulating serotonin uptake.
So, as before, this confession of guilt and sorrow is clearly about more than genes. It’s about more than Tony wanting to save AJ from romantic heartbreak. This is about Tony feeling an inexorable corruption of his own humanity and sense of worth by the influence and value system of his violent father. And it’s about his concomitant guilt for fearing that, as a man like his father, he has done the same thing to AJ.
Just as in Army of One, Melfi’s gentle tone of voice signals how much she’s pulling Tony to make these realizations while his angry tears show how much he’s pushing to resist them.
Melfi: I know this is difficult. But I’m very glad we’re having this discussion.
Tony: Really? Really? ‘Cause I gotta be honest. I think it fuckin’ sucks.
Melfi: What does?
Tony: [yelling] Therapy! This! I hate this fuckin’ shit!
And there, in a nutshell, is the problem. He can’t stand to feel sorrow or indulge the pain of deep introspection, a theme recurrent through the series and explored openly in House Arrest and The Ride.
It’s no coincidence that Walk Like a Man and a number of other episodes from the final nine essentially begin by showing Tony soundly asleep in his bed. It’s also no coincidence that, after waking in Walk Like a Man, he plods downstairs while singing a verse from the Pink Floyd classic “Comfortably Numb”, a song which also features prominently in the following, culminating episode. Remaining numb to his deeper feelings of conscience and humanity is both the secret to Tony’s success as a gangster and the reason why some of his most personal, tactile acts of violence have followed moments of great sorrow (e.g., belt-whipping Zellman, killing Ralph, viciously beating a drugged-out Christopher after the Adriana hit.) Psychological distraction and extreme sensory manipulation are the keys, whether achieved by adrenaline-inducing violence, compulsive sex, compulsive eating, compulsive spending/material acquisition, or compulsive sleeping. The objective in all cases remains to either feel anything but pain or to feel nothing at all.
Walk Like a Man brings these deeply repressed feelings close enough to the surface that Tony glimpses the price of dredging them all the way up. And it’s not a price he’s willing to pay.
He knows that in order to “grow”, to truly progress in Melfi’s office, he has to be willing to essentially condemn an entire lifetime of immoral choices and acts that inflicted immense suffering on other people. He has to be willing to experience the guilt and remorse associated with that process. He has to be willing not only to smash the pedestal he erected under his father and denounce his way of life and his example but to own the fact that he willingly followed in his footsteps as an adult, compromising the potential of his children and especially of his son. In short, he has to do what the monks in his coma dream were suing to make him do: take personal responsibility for his life and actions. No more blaming Livia consciously or Johnny Boy unconsciously. No more blaming Junior or Paulie or Dickie because they were equally poor surrogate fathers. No more “going about in pity for himself” because of his upbringing.
All of this is why the explicit admission never comes, the breakthrough never truly occurs. It’s too hard. It opens him up to too much sadness and regret and sense of waste and failure in his life. As hard as it is at times for him to live with the repression of those feelings, repression is easier than confrontation and all its consequences.
Of course the very fact that Tony has such feelings to repress has always been paramount for me. Though his actions grew increasingly dark over the course of the series, he always betrayed evidence of some conscience, some capacity for love, some capacity for sorrow and moral conflict, without which I can’t imagine that I would ever have been as obsessed with this show as I became. I cared about him and devoted so much passionate energy to trying to understand him only because his vulnerability and shreds of goodness made him, in my judgment, worthy of caring and understanding.
The humanity was often microscopic, but it was there, even in relation to some of the darkest deeds on the show: the way he was haunted briefly after killing Matt Bevalaqua, who he recognized was barely more than a “kid”; his reaction to the way Richie Aprile maimed Beansie; his long resistance to the idea that Pussy was a rat that had to be killed as well the way the murder troubled him well afterward; the way he uniquely (among the crew) was saddened by and took moral issue with what Ralph did to Tracee. We glimpsed his humanity in his red, grief-swollen face and defeated voice in All Due Respect when he instructed Chris where to find and bury the body of Tony B. We even saw it after he coldly ordered Adriana’s execution, both in the angry beating he administered to Chris (classic distraction from sorrow and punishment of Chris for having “created” the whole situation to begin with) and in his lumbering, emotionally oppressed frame and countenance in the closing scene of Long Term Parking.
So by the time of Kennedy and Heidi, even though there was nothing new about Tony killing people for whom he felt some form of affection, there was something entirely new about him killing a loved one without any trace of regret, sadness, or moral conflict. That’s why his seemingly remorseless, defiantly triumphant murder of the young man he thought of as a surrogate son forever changed the way I view Tony Soprano. Or at least I thought it did.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 6
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2020.07.02 06:41 Tazirai Urban Legend: Me, a Smoke monster, and a girl with Amber eyes.

Urban Legend: Me, a Smoke monster, and a girl with Amber eyes.
The girl With Amber Eyes
It was an AMAZING day!
Hell, it had been an amazing week. I was finally off from work and my little mini-vacation was starting. I had been keeping track of the weather and made sure that the days I wanted to go on vacation would be great for some hiking and camping.
I live in Altoona, Pa. in the middle of the state. My role in life is to explore every state park in Pennsylvania. I decided that when I was a youngin, I would make it my life's goal to visit and write about every park I could travel to.
I'm a young man and as long as I stayed healthy and strong, I should be able to do it. There are 111 State Parks in Pennsylvania, 20 State Forests
1 National Forest, 1 National Memorial, 2 National Historic Sites, and 3 National Historic Parks. I've been to half of the State Forests, and thirty of the State Parks.
I usually start at the parks on the outside of the state and work Clockwise from Altoona, as the six o'clock position. But I have a friend who loves Black Moshannon State Park and she's always talking about how good the fishing is on the lake. She raves about the hiking and the trails and even though it's close to a highway, it's secluded enough to feel like you're in a world of your own. Which is what I needed.
I work at a Wawa and I kinda hit the lottery for a decent amount of money. Not enough to retire, but enough to afford my condo, keep up the HOA, and go on vacation when I wanted to. Which is what I'm doing now. So here we are. I'm gonna head up to Moshannon and see what the fuss is all about.
I woke up about 5:30 and finished loading up the car. I got some breakfast from the job and headed up Highway 99 then cut over to alternate 220. Then onto Beaver road as that would take me right into the middle of Black Moshannon, past the lake, and to the camping grounds. Since the Deer season was ending, the park's traffic would primarily be locals and the rare tourist. I got there by quarter to ten. The sun was high, and the air was cooler than average for August. It felt great! Good enough for a hike.
After setting up camp and securing the site with a few locks, I put on my hiking gear and decided to take a few of the "off-brand" trails heading north. I passed the bog near route 504. The panorama was amazing as the sun glistened off the waters by the banks, which were covered in oak, cherry, and pine trees. Trees that rose up the gentle slope of hills. I took in the fresh scent and decided after the hike, I'd do lunch then get in some fishing.
I hadn't seen a soul up here yet, outside of some cars on the road coming in, and the park ranger who guided me to my camping lot. It was about forty minutes into my hike when I had come across anything odd. I had taken pictures of some of the birds I saw and decided to make a mental note of the varieties I'd seen. There were Warblers, Teals, Black Ducks, Canadian geese, and other avian critters.
As I crossed over smaller bog path, I noticed a group of Woodpeckers chasing a flying Squirrel.
"Poor little critter," I said aloud to no one as I watched the aerial spat.
Then a plane flew overhead reminding me that no matter how far I go civilization was. "Hmm, what's that?" I noted as I heard some crunching in the grass. I noticed the chittering of the critters had moved on as they continued their conflict.
I knew black bears were native to this area so I wanted to make sure there was a good bit of distance between me and it, just in case it decided to charge. I followed the noise of the crunching up the hill and into a nearby clearing. Moving slowly as not to startle the bear, hell it might not even be a bear I thought, but deer or something else. It was neither. It was just another hiker like myself. Well, I guessed she was a hiker, but she didn't dress like one.
It was a young black girl probably late twenties a few years older than myself I thought. She had on a tank top with some bike shorts and sneakers. It was kind of odd as It was unseasonably cool. It was probably around fifty degrees or so, maybe a little warmer in the sunlight. She was carrying only one of those small backpack purses. She was very carefree as she walked, humming a tune, and swinging the pack about as she played with the fauna.
She walked to a grouping of stones and found a small tree stump and sat down. She gazed up at the sky and smiled. Damn, she was cute I thought as she looked about. Her hair was short and styled, high cheeks, nice pouty lips, with a fit athletic body, maybe only a few inches shorter than me. She pulled the pack to the front then looked inside. I guess to make sure she had what she needed out here, like keys or mace or something.
I thought it would be courteous to at least let her know I was out here so as not to startle her. But just as I decided to NOT come across as a "creeper" looking at a chick in the woods. I felt the air temperature just drop! I shook for a quick moment as a chill went down my spine.
"Whoo! Shit!" I said aloud, but not loud enough for her to hear me as I shivered.
"Musta been a breeze or something," I said to myself rubbing my arms.
As I gathered myself, I noticed the sky was almost imperceptibly darker. I mean the sun was still out, and the skies mostly clear, but it was almost like looking at the world through barely tinted sunglasses. Which I was not wearing. I started making my way to her and then I noticed her left hand. She was holding up her index finger. It...It was pointed in my direction. Had she seen me? There was no way! I was in the treeline, covered in shadow, and making my way around the bushes. She probably heard me curse and...
"What the fuck!" I cried as the chill returned with no breeze at all. I looked about frightened for some reason, I didn't know why. But I was scared as hell. I looked towards the girl, I had to warn her. But warn her of what? Me being scared shitless for no reason? Then I noticed her finger still up, but pointing directly at me, then wagging at me. Like, don't come here, stay put, stay where I was. Confused I decided to see what...
"HOLY FUCK!" I whispered to myself as I looked at her. Behind her. Behind her, what the hell is that? I tried to scream but my voice died out as my eyes went wide with terror, as she just sat there, not seeing the thing behind her. I tried to run but like my voice, my legs didn't want to work. I could only watch in horror as the creature slithered much like a snake as it approached her.
It rose behind her, its form like a dark whispy ripped overly large and long cloak. It was a cloak of floating darkness, the bottom and 'arms' were just like shredded bed sheets draped over a corpse. As the only true feature on it was the bony deer-like antlers, on its hooded and skeletal face. Moss, grass, and other detritus dangled loosely from its antlers. The skeletal face was human but overly large and its mouth a gaping pit of darkness, as was its eyeless pits. A crack ran from its temple into the darkness of the hood.
It reached for the girl as the pack dangled from her shoulder. No. It reached for the backpack. The shredded, handless hem of where it's arm should be gingerly reached for it. I wet myself as I knew that thing would kill her and she'd never even know it. I guess it was a blessing to die swiftly. But if it had seen me, I'd know how I would die. Death under a cloudless, sunny day, with the sounds of the woods to muffle my death cries, as the animals went about their days like this was normal.
To my shock, the girl pulled the backpack over her shoulder and craned her head to look behind her.
"You remember how you got that crease on that bony face of yours right?" She said to it with little emotion.
"Ah yes," It said, raising its sleeved arm to its head. "You, Abigail Mitchell of Philadelphia, assaulted me without provocation, I remember!"
"You did try to suck the life from me, If I remember correctly," she said back to the thing as if they had some fuckin rivalry or something.
"Did you get the items per my request?" The creature said as it floated to the front to face her as it towered over the sitting woman. The bottom of its smoke-like form swayed silently about a foot off the ground. But had it been touching the ground it would probably still be at least 10 feet tall. It glanced down at her...
"May I see it? To be sure it is what I asked for," the demonic specter hissed in its airy breath.
The girl looked to the backpack and reached inside. I could feel my legs quivering as I was both fascinated and terrified at the sight before me. My brain desperately tried to understand this whole thing. A human girl is having a conversation with some ghostly monstrosity, it's sunny and cloudless, and the sounds of the forest went on as normal. I think I even heard another plane overhead as my nose took in the smell of my urine, and my weak knees marinated in the stuff, too shaken to do anything else.
I watched on as the girl pulled something from the bag. It looked like a brass cup and a medallion. The creature hissed in pleasure as it rose above her its arms fluttering like some damned bird before it settled down again.
"This what you mean?" The girl said dangling the medallion and holding the brass cup before it. The creature shrunk towards the ground in an almost kneeling position. As it did so the front of its ethereal body began to glow in a small circular pattern about the size of the medallion.
"Do you also have the other thing?" It said excitedly. It's antlered head moving forward trying to look in the pack, She pulled it back and told it to...
"Take it easy!" she told it annoyed at the things eagerness.
"How long has it been?" She asked it, as she pulled forth another cup, and a small bottle or something.
The creature rose up and back as the light in the medallion dimmed some. It looked as if it was in contemplation.
"What human year is this now?" It asked.
"2019 of the common era." She told it.
"Three hundred seventy-four of your years, since I lost THAT!" It growled pointing to the medallion and the brass cup.
"Name your fee and let's be on with it!" It stated, the eagerness overriding its common sense, as its formless body shuddered in anticipation.
"I told you my fee when you made the request, that crack on the head knocked away some of your memory?" She asked it tapping her head.
"Are you serious? THAT was your fee? Not power, or influence, or money as you humans love so much? Not adoration, or some silly bargain?" It said to her, almost incredulously.
"A story?"
"A story!" she stated with a wide grin on her face.
"A story?" I said to myself.
"Why something so small? Why not something of significance?" The creature asked her. I too was curious about this.
"Because my job is to collect the history of as many things as I can. I'm also a sucker for a good story. Stories are significant. I know somewhere in that spectral skull of yours, you've seen and done some shit. Just tell me one," she said holding up a finger.
"You are...very curious for a human Abigail Mitchell of Philadelphia." It replied to her.
"How long have you been around?" she asked the thing.
"Thousands of your years. Why?"
"Tell me a story of something...eight hundred, no! One thousand years back!" she stated as she placed her elbows on her knees and cupped her face like a damned kid at camp around a campfire. She even had the silliest damned grin on her face. Who was she? What was she?
How could she sit around that thing like it was normal? I hadn't realized it, but I found myself sitting also, on a dry patch of the ground looking on intensely. I must be suffering from brain damage or something. Fear mixed with intrigue, mixed with heightened curiosity. I too waited for the story of the thing.
"Very well curious one! The story I will tell you is of a really stupid boy, and his equally stupid family," The creature began.
I watched as the ethereal smoke demon with horns bent in front of the girl. It began to tell its tale.
"Tell me girl what do you know of the worlds beyond?" It asked this Abigail person.
"Well, having been to several, and being stuck on one when I was 12 for a year quite a bit, but not as much as you I suspect," she replied.
"A little less than a thousand Earth years ago, I had come to your world at the bequest of a being more capable than I. I was to replace another who had failed in the task of corrupting a lord of some standing," the creature said as it rose to mid-height again.
"Because of the unique situation, I did not need to be summoned. I left my world and when I found the failure, I sent it home in the messiest way possible. After, I told it of the punishment that awaited it. The forest of the lord was not quiet that night."
I grimaced in horror, as the thing acted out how it sent the other monster home. It floated in a wide circle and pointed to an imaginary location on the ground. It raised its right sleeve as tendrils of smoky mist formed four footlong dagger-like claws. It then dove to the ground snatching up nothing.
No, It formed a dark silhouette of another creature with its smoke. This inhuman monster writhed in the creature's grasp.
The Abigail girl watched, her eyes wide with excitement, as I noticed a slight orange glow to them. She smiled as the shadow monster plunged its clawed sleeve into the other things gut. The tips of the claws sticking out the back as smoky 'blood' dripped from them. It then spun its clawed sleeve to the right and then slashed to the left, as the 'creature' it held fell in two pieces. Smoke blood bursting from the torso, before all of it vanished back into nothing.
"You just had to do that, didn't you?" she smirked, as she shook her head.
"I despise failure, and I did enjoy it!" It stated, "I searched about the forest for a place to lair and make my plans to corrupt this lord, I noticed the many farms and hovels that doted the area. The humans of this time were very easy to scare, at least in this realm. I could use this to my advantage."
It moved down while rubbing its bone chin. This damned thing loved to milk it.
"If I could determine why the other had failed, then I could learn how to best influence this area and bring the lord to heel." It said.
"What was so important about this lord? Why did he in particular need to be corrupted. He wouldn't have much say in the affairs of war or peace. It seems like he just oversaw Hamlets and farms?" She quizzed.
The creature moved close to her and seemed to smile. Raising the sleeve.
"PRECISELY!"
It gloated as it moved backward, arms out to its sides.
"I assume you know of the war that rages between us so-called Devils, Demons, and Fiends? The war that serves no purpose, other than to find out which of us, will lead the war against the Celestial realms?"
"Well, considering all wars pretty much serve no purpose long term, but yes, I know of the Red War, seen a skirmish or two myself," She replied.
"All wars need resources, which is why we terrorize the material worlds for assets, to assist us. If I could corrupt this lord, poison the minds of his people. I would then slaughter them down to the last child. He would tend and raise them as the chattel for foot soldiers in our realm. He serves no greater goal on Earth! Earth simply gave him the spark we seek. Earth..," He grumbled in disgust.
"I see! So, how do the dumb kid and his family fit in?" she asked him. I too was curious.
"Patience human!" It said. Its back turned to shake its sleeved hand.
"I decided to not hunt anyone in particular yet. So at night, I would haunt the local tavern, and learn all I could of this Lord Mathrinin. Although he was not a particularly kind or benevolent ruler, he was just and orderly. Perfect for our ends. We just needed to twist him to our needs."
"As the weeks went on I decided to begin. A dead pig here. Slaughtered cattle there. My favorite was to chase Bears into the farmlands and watch as the humans raised hunting parties. I would terrorize them into thinking the woods were haunted. I would give them the briefest glimpse of my form. Just to know it was occupied. My plan seemed to be working. Which stymied me. If my plan was working, why hadn't the others?"
I think this is where he finds out why. He paused as if in thought, and floated about in a circle around Abigail.
"Competition!" It exclaimed.
That made sense to me. If all sides in this 'Hell War' needed supplies and troops, why would he, IT! Be the only 'recruiter' sent out to gather them? So, the Devil didn't need our souls for torturing, but as foot soldiers in a war against God?
Wait, he...It said Realms, plural. Not THAT Satan, but lots of them? Well, not Satan at all, but Fiends, Demons, and Devils? I am so confused and terrified at the idea of an infinity of hells and their rulers.
"There was another recruiter about, trying to perform the same task as I," it began. "This time instead of learning of the lord, I would seek out information on the lore and legends of this place. That had to be the reason the other failed. A haunting that countered another. I was intrigued and vengeful. My reward awaited me, and I had to learn who, or what my competitor was, and deal with it!"
It then settled on the ground and looked at her, then paused and nearly looked in my direction. Swear to God If I had eaten anything heavier earlier, I would have shit my pants. I didn't move at all, the girl knew I was here. If she had sensed any danger I'd like to think she would have shouted a warning or something. But instead, the creature continued.
"That night I scouted the town and hung back in the rafters of the tavern. But you know our kind tends to hackle the hairs of humans and they become just a bit more fearful in our presence, even if they can't see us. I listened for hours of dogs, wives, mistresses, friends lost, dreams of travel, escaping the town, and my favorite, the thing in the woods." It laughed as it referenced itself.
"But then I heard something odd, apparently there was a home to the north of the Lords keep. This home was something of a magnet for the strange and odd, even the other before I killed it, mentioned something blocking it from entering that home. It had felt challenged and didn't know why. I went there Immediately!"
"SO," Abigail began, "let me stop you there. After you discover that there may be something in this house capable of putting the fear of God in the other fiend, you decide to take it on? You're leaving out something!"
"No wonder you were able to do this to my head, you're not slow at all," it replied, then continued, "The other had warned me of a home where it felt it's earthly existence was in danger. It had confronted a boy in the home because the boy had access to the lord. Sadly, the boy had other ideas. It seems the boy had a thing for picking fights with, well, everything."
"What?" I nearly blurted out loud, luckily Abigail did it for me.
"What? The kid was some kind of bully or something?" She asked.
"No! He was just extremely territorial, and a bit of a dunce. He could move things with his mind, but he thought he was protected by Fairies, Goblins, and Poltergeists. He was about nine and they were all in his head, of course, but he could 'See' them. I hadn't known that at the time," it said.
"When I arrived at the home it was early in the morning and the child was out doing farming tasks. His father had made a run into town, and his mother was something of a soothsayer and was setting up her equipment to consult with the lord. The boy was having an intense conversation with something invisible to my eyes. But I was astounded to see tools, wheat, and other things floating on their own, and the mother not surprised or scared in the least."
"I had needed a closer look, were the tales of this house true? I moved to the shadows in the shed and observed."
"Thistle move this thing there! Morgane put the wheat in the barrel, please. Grumblestix, stop grumbling and help Biscuits with the water. Father won't be gone all day! Mother wants to see Mathrinin in an hour, so we need this place looking well when he arrives," the boy told the invisible things.
"I was astonished as these invisible beings toiled and worked as the boy barked his commands. An Idea formed in my head. I may not be able to see what he does, but perhaps I could become a new member of his Spirit Troupe. But I was already too late, for he had noticed me," the thing said.
"Well, well, this is getting interesting!" Abigail said rubbing her hands and crossing her legs in anticipation.
I must admit I didn't think things would escalate this fast. I was entranced.
"You can come out Smokeman!" the boy called to me, I had to admit that I was shocked. I hadn't been this surprised in centuries.
"Gold hair saw you coming from over that way," the boy pointed, "I saw you in the woods a few days ago when you chased the Bears into town. I was wondering why you would send Bears. The last one tried to scare me with Dear, but there's no scary Dear. You kind of have Dear antlers, I like it. Who are you?"
"I must admit, I had not known you could see me," I stated, " I apologize for not introducing myself to you. I came to your town a few weeks ago, I made my home in the woods because of how I look, I didn't think your people would like me."
"Well, that's silly!" He said, "Gold hair isn't that cute but I like him. Look at Grumblestix he said pointing. Grumble what are you again? A mud fairy? Grumble looks worse than you! hahaha."
I couldn't see Grumblestix.
The smoke thing rose up and bellowed, "I terrify EVERYTHING! The forest itself fears me, I bring shadow and darkness to the world. I rend Fiends and Celestials. The lower realms shake when I come. But this boy laughed in my face, he wasn't afraid at all."
"My father will be home soon, do you want to stay for Midday meal? I and the others need to finish working Smokeman. I'm sorry, My name is Bregin. Do you have a name?"
"You can call me Smokeman. That name is fine," I told him as I watched the invisible creatures go back to work. This would be easy I thought to myself. The boy was special but not confrontational, a rarity in your species. I would corrupt him and the lord. My bonus would be grand. What shocked me most was when his mother came out to see how the work went. She looked at me and nodded her head.
"Good day Spirit, come to visit Bregin? Here Bregin, your meal. I'll be off to the keep to escort the lord back. Will you be staying for Midday Meal spirit?" She asked me.
"Yes milady. May I meet the lord of this place once you return?" I asked of her thinking, Humans were so odd.
"Of course, the lord is always pleased to meet Bregin's friends, they've brought luck to our small farming haven, Mayhaps he'd have a post for one such as you. I'll ask him. On the by, my name is Labine. My husband will host you when he returns at Midday sir...?"
"Your son calls me Smokeman, I like the name," I told her.
"Sir Smokeman!" She nodded smiling and mounting a horse and riding off.
"That's how most of your kind sees me, haha!" I heard Abigail tell him, "How confused were you?"
"Very! I've noticed your species can only be terrified so much. You start weak, scared, and easy prey, but the more you see our kind, the less afraid you become. It is very annoying," It told her, "But I stayed and helped the boy to pass the time and noticed he would run off now and then, only to come back smiling and laughing. He would look at me, just stare, giggle then runoff. It was maddening!"
"Continue, continue..." Abigail told it.
I could feel the climax coming. I swear it did seem like the ending was coming, but things didn't play out like I thought they would. The monster had set off his plan, the townspeople had formed hunting parties to seek it out to defend their homes, weeks of hauntings had not seemed to rattle the people much at all, this not so benevolent lord chills with the peasants, and the smoke monster is helping a nine-year-old around the farm, who turned out to not be a jackass? I wasn't expecting this, I am so intrigued, terrified yes, but intrigued. It kept me rooted in place.
When Midday arrived the father had returned home, but something was amiss, he wasn't alone. The town had come with him. There were dozens of them about, humans everywhere. The boy had come back from one of his vanishing episodes. He waved enthusiastically to the townsfolks.
"Father! Welcome back!" He yelled and ran to his dad. What worried me most was the sheer lack of fear in any of them. I had made no move to hide my presence from them, and people just bantered about, chatting and laughing with each other as a ghostly smoke monster floated about them. What made me query this situation, even more, was that I had been in this place for weeks, and had never seen people leave to go to a farm for 'Midday Meal'.
"Well met strange spirit, I am Bregin's father Jace. We welcome you to Midday. Sadly there are far too many for me to introduce you to," Bregin's father said. As he spoke I noticed another cloud of dust coming from around a hill. It was a small retinue of the lord, his men, his wife, and Bregin's mother.
"Mother! Mathrinin!" Bregin cried out in joy.
"Bregin," she smiled waving to him.
"Well met Young Bregin. How goes your day?" the lord smiled with genuine sincerity, "are you and your friends well?"
"Yes Mathrinin, they all helped with the farming today. I even met a new friend. Sir Smokeman."
"Hail and well met, Sir Smokeman. How are things in the realm of spirits?" the Lord said to me. I was genuinely taken aback.
"Things are well? Sire. I am new to your realm. Bregin, for one so young, is a gracious and mirthful host," I told him turning to Bregin who had the widest grin upon his face.
"Jace," Lord Mathrinin called out, "Have you the item Labine mentioned before we enjoy Midday?"
"I do sire!" Jace reached into a pack and pulled out a Medallion with the town's name on it, and Bregin's smiling face. He gave it to Mathrinin.
Activity began to occur around me as drinks were poured, and food served, by the townspeople.
"Sir Smokeman, can you partake of ale?" Labine asked me, "You are of smoke yes?"
"I can drink when I feel in need of merriment," I responded.
"Good, I'll have Bregin fetch you the drink," she said smiling warmly.
Moments later Lord Mathrinin came to me with the Medallion in hand.
"In honor of Bregin and his friends and the fortune they have deemed smile upon this town, we honor Sir Smokeman, a new friend to Bregin and our village. Sir Smokeman?" He said giving me the medallion carefully.
"I appreciate your hospitality Milord, and thank you for such a gift," I told him, faking sincerity.
"NOW, hear ye, hear ye! We begin our Midday meal with a toast to Sir Smokeman!" Mathrinin called to all.
Bregin ran to grab my drink from his mother. When he returned to me, I was rooted to the spot as looked in horror as Bregin came up to me with that brass cup, MY, brass cup.
I watched as the smoke monster pointed to the cup in Abigail's hand.
That cup was my tether to this world. That cup was a gift given to me in a time so long ago, I had forgotten how I gained it. But it was mine, and I was connected to it. My fear is that if that cup is ever destroyed or lost. I will be lost. I would do anything to recover that cup. It has taken me hundreds of years to find that cup.
"Well finish the story Smokeman, and it's yours again. Pay up!" Abigail said straightly, adding, "It wasn't all in his head was it?"
The creature shook his head.
When Bregin held the cup before me, his father and mother stood at his sides with Lord Mathrinin taking a step back smiling, head down.
"Where did you get that?" I yelled with a deep menace in my throat. I planned to slay these usurpers, damn my payment, and the corruption, they deserved death.
"Sorry, sir Smokeman. But remember the night you arrived at our village, out there in the forest? You did something you shouldn't have. You killed the being we called, S'tavros. That being over time had become one of Bregin's friends. We know he arrived here as many have in the past to corrupt or murder us. We found this in your home. You see our son is special. He has a special relationship with beings like you," Bregin's father said.
"My son is part, Fey. His Grandfather, my father, told me that if I were to ever fall for a human in true love. That I would be able to bear a child that would bridge our world, and the land where I chose to live, would fall under the protection of the Fey court, and my son or daughter, would have the power of fairy at their beck and call," his mother said, her face altering to reveal sharp angular features and pointed ears.
"What is this?" I asked looking about. The residents of the town looked on, as all around us creatures began to appear, all manner of Goblin, Fairy, and Poltergeist. When I turned to look back at Bregin, he was floating directly in my face, cup in hand offering me the drink.
"I think you should drink this!" He said smiling, but his child voice flat as dirt.
"We were never afraid of you or your kind, demon, or devil," Mathrinin said walking forward, " when you arrived we knew. We had hoped that you would attempt to make contact earlier, and perhaps parlay with us, enjoy your stay in our town."
"But you killed my friend. So now I can't be your friend. Friends don't kill friends. Please drink. Let this drink show that we would have welcomed you with open arms," Bregin said giving me the drink.
"And..." I thought to myself as the creature spoke to Abigail.
I took a long draft of the cool ale. I truly wanted to destroy them. But there were just too many, and I had nowhere to go. I would not win a war with the Fey.
"May I keep the cup? It is dear to me." I told the boy.
"No! For your punishment, we will banish you from this place with an Earthly death. You will return to your home, and when this town eventually returns to the Fairy realm. Your cup will be here. No matter what grows, your cup will be here, no matter the town or city, nothing will touch this spot, your cup will be here. However, after several hundred years, You can return. But, you have a length of time equal to one year to reclaim the cup. If you do not, it will wither and rust," Bregin told me no longer sounding like a child, but more like the King of Fairy.
"...and so I suspect shall you. It would behoove you to act swiftly, as your memories of this place will start to turn vague, and dreamlike, much like the Fey lands. The Medallion will be the key to recover the cup, but it too shall be found elsewhere. Find the Medallion, find the cup. Now begone from the sight of these humans and Fey, you're no longer wanted here!"
With that, he touched my skull, and I exploded. My next awareness was of the lower realms on the banks of the Lethe. For hundreds of years, I roamed impatiently even fighting in the Red War directly. I thought the time would never arrive for me to come back to this worthless world. But, during one battle, I was summoned, and when I arrived. I impatiently waited for my inexperienced summoner to fail. She did and died for it, and my search began.
"Then I'd heard of you, and here we are, Abigail Mitchell, of Philadelphia," it said.
"Is that why you say my name and home all the time?" She asked, "To never forget?
It nodded.
"I really enjoyed that Sir Smokeman," She said handing the creature and the Cup and Medallion.
Then she pulled out a bottle of what looked like Heineken or something. She poured some into its cup, then into hers.
I was actually happy that the skull face got his cup back. It was a small thing, but even small things can be important.
"A toast?" She said raising the cup.
"Yes. To that Stupid child and his equally stupid family, for centuries of woe and torment," it said.
"To that Stupid child and his equally stupid family!" Abigail said as their cups touched and they took a drink.
"What now?" she asked it.
"I will take this grinning medallion as a symbol of my failure, my cup, and leave this plane forever. I despise this world. But first, we have unfinished business," the creature said as it turned to look directly at me.
ALL the fear came back along with a new stream of urine. I got up and turned to flee as fast as I could!
"Give me 5 seconds?" I heard Abigail ask it.
"3 seconds."
"Okay okay!"
Then I saw her run towards me with inhuman speed, her eyes like fire, and the veins beneath her skin glowing like lava flows.
I crashed through everything in my way. Tripping and falling, and not giving a single shit.
I tripped and began to roll down a hill. I was stopped when I hit a small log. Stunned for a moment. I sat up and looked about and listened. I didn't see or hear anything. I grabbed the log to stand and there she was.
"Hiya!" was all I remember before a fist collided with my face.
I awoke to the smell of fish cooking, my cuts and bruises cleaned up, a beer in the coozie next to my chair.
"There he is! I was wondering if you were gonna wake up before your beer got warm," she said tossing a fish on a plate.
"Where...where's that smoke thing?" I asked frantically looking about.
"Don't worry, he's gone. He knew you were there the whole time too," she told me, "But don't worry about him, he's not coming back. However, because you were close to him, you got a little taint on ya. Creeps like him can smell ya if you're close to them now. But don't worry I took care of that problem too," She told me tapping her left shoulder, her eyes glowing.
I looked down at my left shoulder as I felt a dull throb of heat. There was a mark glowing orange just underneath my skin. I looked back to her and asked,
"Are you gonna tell me a story about this?"
submitted by Tazirai to Wholesomenosleep [link] [comments]


2020.01.16 20:19 J-Logs_HER My Final views on the Crossover, Spoilers for those who haven't finished it, but f*** the Paragons!

So I thought I'd share my thoughts on the whole crossover. I DVRed each episode and watched them a day after they aired but I rewatched them all in a row yesterday to see them again. I know, too much time on my hands. Anyway, I enjoyed them for the most part. I was not even thinking about them after that long break but parts 4-5 were awesome. Part 3 kinda sucked which is strange considering I like the Flash the most. I took notes as I watched so please forgive the word vomit but I thought that be easier to do as I watched then trying to remember everything. Also, language and spoilers! You've been warned.
Part one. loved that intro, and loves how it comes full circle in part 5 with Oliver retelling it. "brainy" is fucking annoying. I don't watch the show and I'm kinda glad I don't. who's the hotty in blue btw? loved the end of Argo city, full circle with Kal sending his only son like Jor. Love that he gave up his powers to be with Lois and have a family. genuinely hate harbinger, what was her direction? be as robotic and boring as possible? I like Lyla with Diggle and there is a universe I could like her as harbinger but that universe was destroyed before Argo city. It's like the writers had a competition who could they write to be more annoying harbinger or brainy and they both won. Fuck, Earth 16 old-man Ollie is the most interesting. Give me an old man Ollie story like Logan! Why are the phantom army stooges attacking the tower from inside somewhere when the outside of the tower is clearly accessible from the air?? Gotta say the whole pariah thing was garbage to introduce right before Ollie's first death. plus dying in part 1?? felt way wrong.
Part 2: why was "brainy" and the other Supergirl cast with the team when part 1 ended but not when part 2 began? Without any indication?? Finally an interesting voice in the waverider! great way to bring back Snart. Fuck Paragons, yea I said it! Talk about a half baked idea. 7 people that can save the universe and 4 are already on the ship. bullshit. thank you Sarah for calling bullshit on that. Kevin Conroy!!!!! best Batman ever. My feelings about Smallville are well documented in my profile history, I'll only say my favorite line was Clark looks over Lex and says "You're not Lex." I also love how he makes the same decision Hoechlin's Supes does to start a family. Can't believe we got a second Superman but I would've liked of they had a proper costume. it looked like it didn't fit him properly. Aside from that, Routh's Superman was awesome and I think more interesting than Hoechlin's. LOVED the Superman 3 reference! "Second time I've gone mad and fought myself." ha! AND he acknowledges Superman Returns' Superboy. Can I say "oooooooooooo Kate's the paragon of courage!" (/s) who gives a fuck about paragons. we know that girl is important, she's in the first season of her own show. I do like batgirls character Arc in this crisis a lot though. just hate this whole Paragon dynamic. Harbinger is a shit show again. Fuck Oliver dying only to immediately brought back to life. I think I would've liked the crisis better if part 3 wasn't shown until after the winter break. Felt like it had so much to set up for part 4 and part 4 was so involved with what part 3 set up. The climax of the story is not part 3, it's Oliver's death in Part 4. Either put part 4 earlier or move part 3 to Sunday January 12th.
Part 3: I never watched birds of prey, so I didn't really care that that universe got axed at the beginning. But still pretty cool that it was included. Where the hell was Jon Jonz in part two? Like he was on the ship the whole time just in the kitchen? Or did he have something else to do that no one else was involved in and is never referenced again? Oh and he's a paragon now? Doesn't that make 5 on the ship originally?? fucking writing. Did pariah and harbinger get the exact same direction, be boring and robotic?? fucking writing. Monitor can give powers or restore them so vibe can vibe again?? fucking writing. That scene where Lucifer annoys everyone and hits on the hottie. perfect fucking writing! At least they got that scene right. Why is Ryan Choy a paragon???? He has a family like most everyone. he has no powers aside from his brain, we have plenty of of those. he wants to save the world like everyone in this crossover. Truthfully, he's a paragon because they needed a way to introduce him to replace Ray Palmer. fucking writing. Why not make Diggle the paragon of humanity, he constantly brought Oliver back to his humanity. Or make it Jefferson from Black lightning! That would give him more a purpose in the crossover other than just to merge the shows. And they nailed his scene with Barry and Jefferson. Talk about inconsistent writing. Why is Earth 90 flash "powering" the Canon that's causing the anti matter wave but if he stops the machine explodes and still causes the anti matter wave?? fucking writing. I don't feel like it was a cop out kill 90s flash instead of Barry and I'm okay with him dying, he felt useless to team Flash. The music at the end was pretty good. Did Diggle give Jefferson the nod?? blackpeopleoftwitter know what I'm talking about. Shit, now it makes sense why Lyla and Pariah are written this way. The Anti Monitor is controlling them and they're speaking on his cadence!! Just figured that out my bad. seriously though, a black marker is all it takes to change the book of destiny?? Fucking bullshit writing! Part 3 was my absolute least favorite. It's like they came with up with a bunch of cool ideas when they started the series and had no logical way to make them make sense so that's what we got in part 3. fuck the writing, except for the Lucifer scene.
Part 4: Has Sarah Lance been to the vanishing point before? how the fuck would she know what that place is?? How would any of them know?? Don't watch legends so if that's the case, okay. FINALLY, the monitor's backstory. Imo, the dawn of time CGI was fantastic for TV CGI. looked original and didn't look cheap. same with the vanishing point. first issue, HOW THE HELL did they survive here? if the place is beyond time and space, why does Ryan say that everyday Kate trains for a fight that isn't coming. clearly a measure of time. Plus he has a beard. How the hell are the human surviving??? Kate even says they've been gone for months when Barry shows up. Bullshit. Also calling bullshit on Spectre unlocks Barry's access to the speedforce by touching his forehead with a finger. Give me a cgi something but come on! lazy GD writing. Thank you Ezra Miller! I'm like 60% positive they're using some portion of this crossover in the Flashpoint movie. That cameo blew my mind. Watched it a dozen times and I can't get over it. It gets more amazing every time. The change in camera and aspect ratio, plus Guggenheim's story that emporer Warner Brothers reached and said "dew it" makes me think they did it to save a few bucks in the movie, paying another cheaper studio to write and shoot the scene. seems like a no brainer. Then again the aspect ratio was changed for the all of the speedforce scenes so I could be wrong. How does Lex get powers? Was it from the monitor in part 2? Was it from the monitor in part 4? Why can he shoot stuff out his hands?? fucking writing. What is Ryan doing in that fight btw, stabbing air with butter knife?? Shoulda wrote Ray Palmer's name on the book of destiny instead of his. And that focus bullshit to "fan the flames" that's some power rangers type bullshit, focus-on-your-paragonness bullshit, think super duper hard and we win bullshit. fucking writing. Atleast Oliver's second death was good. Still can't wrap my mind around the big cameo ...
Part 5: Like Supergirl, I don't watch legends. bbbuuuuuuuuutttttt how did they get back?? how did they get to the dawn of time in the first place and how did they get back?? I really really like where they are going with Lex. To Earth prime, this Lex is a saint who is now unknowingly being controlled by a monster. Great way to reintroduce him imo. I feel like I've been missing something because Brandon Routh as Ray Palmer is just delightful. I think I need to start watching legends. Why isn't there an Oliver on Earth prime? Why would there be a bunker and a team arrow if there was no Oliver?? I'm assuming it's going to be addressed a little bit in the final episodes but why would Earth primes Oliver be gone completely if everyone else aside from the paragons was created again?? Onward.... Beebo, what's a beebo? missing out on legends I guess. Who's the new hot blonde? I love that "Rebecca" is making it as a romance novelist. Who woulda thought all he needed was to go by a female pseudonym. Also what's beebo made of?? jelly? I thought he was going to be a projection just like in Spiderman far from home. Mr. sorcerer thiefster had a very punchable face. Also where is Rita repulsa and her magic stick? how did that monster grow?? serious power rangers shit, when they cant-beat-the-good-guys-they-grow-bullshit. Give me the megazord from Earth 2!! I'm assuming there's a deleted scene somewhere because blue hotty from supergirl is back but has 0 lines. WHERE IS IRIS AND CISCO??? Barry and Caitlin would not be in star labs in Central City without those two. Complete crap they weren't there for that presidential address at least. I hope Iris is back with Eddie at this point. Loved Oliver narrating the creation of his Earth. Star girl looks awesome. They nailed Routh's Superman, aside from the costume fit, they absolutely nailed it. I really loved the tone of the episode and a great way to come out of a crossover I think, start of something new and big, something hopeful and fun. I originally thought it wasn't very good but after a second watch, I really enjoyed it. I don't really like that the universe basically just hit a reset button. They're still is an infinite amount of Earth's but Earth prime contains all of the CW heroes. Aside from Oliver dying, the crisis didn't change much in the grand scheme of things. Think about it them being on the same Earth versus different Earths doesn't mean anything if they can jump from Earth to Earth with a press of a button. Now there's even less of an excuse not to call Superman or Supergirl for enemies they have the slightest trouble with. Everything should become a crossover if the destruction of a city/cities are the threat every single season, right? At the same time, this is the perfect time to pick up each series because they all have a reset.
Things they missed: some of the writing was God fucking awful. part 3 really missed the mark. was really really really hoping for a Diggle lantern. I almost think it would have been better if he would have got a Green lantern ring and was considered the Paragon of humanity. fine, introduce Ryan Choi but it would have been so much more meaningful if Diggle was the Paragon of humanity. how many times has he brought oliver back to his own humanity? big swing and a miss there. they teased it so well I really thought they were going to make Diggle a lantern.
things I thought were done well:. all the Easter eggs and special appearances. you know, to start out on so many different earths being destroyed was fun but to have several of the other universes main characters be driving points in the whole story was incredible. Kevin Conroy was unbelievable!! Tom welling's scene was perfect and I didn't need any more than that. Tom Ellis' Lucifer was my biggest surprise for the first three parts, they nailed it! Totally wasn't expecting it was happy as a clam when I saw it. Brandon Routh had to put in so much work for this crossover, I would think he put in more work than anyone, aside from Stephen Amell maybe or possibly Grant Gustin or Ruby or Melissa. I think Routh takes the cake. three incredibly different characters in Clark, Supes, and Ray. maybe it's because I don't watch Legends but I was blown away by Routh in this crossover. that Earth 96 smile at the end was awesome! and Ezra Miller!!!!!! the DCEU and DCTV merged for approximately 3 minutes and it was glorious!!!!! That made up for all the shit writing in part 3. I couldn't focus for about 20 minutes after I saw that scene for the first time I musta rewound my DVR half a dozen times to rewatch it! Miller and Gustin mirrored each other so well in that scene, perfectly written. Can't believe they got him! I also think the cgi wasn't bad for a TV production and was actually good at some points. but that's just my opinion.
what did I miss? I know a lot of people said reverse flash should've been in it but I don't know where he could've fit in it. can't wait to meet the wonder twins and Gleek. Thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed, and fuck the paragons.
submitted by J-Logs_HER to Crisisoninfinitetv [link] [comments]


2018.11.14 19:47 BodatheDestroyer Losing

I would appreciate any advice, notes, comments ect. I am a very amateur writer working on autobiographical fiction collection of stories. I don't need up-votes. I just want a little help. Yes, I know my sentence structure, grammar the such sucks. I'm looking more for advice on the story and is it worth keeping going?
Losing. – Best Fight Story People always love to tell the stories about the fights they been in and won. A lot of the time it’s the only fight they’ve ever been involved in for their entire life. I on the other hand have been in a lot of fights, more than I should have and really I’m not proud of it. Many of them even as a young child. Kicking ass, taking names, busting heads, dominating….but no one likes to talk about the times they lost. It is humiliating to lose. Who wants to talk about that? Me. Getting your own ass kicked just sucks and I am an expert in the area. As the saying goes you win some and you lose some. There’s not a lot of things more shaming than stepping up to your opponent with every intention to crush them under your boot and failing. Standing toe to toe with someone that you for the moment loathe, looking them straight in the eye with all the confidence in the world that you will end them and they drop you like a bag of bricks. My first fights were with my neighborhood best friend Timmy. Yes that’s right my best friend. At least monthly, sometimes more, we would end up swinging our tiny fists at each other and usually it went something like this: Tim and I would argue about our meaningless childhood who-cares-what. One time it was an argument about what happened to The Garden of Eden. I said Satan probably took it and turned it into Hell after Adam and Eve ate the apple. Timmy didn’t like that idea. Things would get heated and the next thing I knew I had a bloody nose and Timmy was already half the block away running the other direction before I could react. I’ve had to snap my nose back into place more than once as blood streamed from my nostrils and I watched through stinging tears as Timmy’s silhouette disappeared into the distant sunset. His tactics were smart really, cowardly, but smart. I was two of Timmy put together and would have easily been able to break him if I caught him, but he was so damned fast. When we played neighborhood front yard football together I was always furious and jealous that I could never catch or tackle him. Timmy would play running back or wide receiver and I was a blocker…imagine that. Timmy kept his hit and run strategy all the years of our friendship and after our engagements we would both retreat back to our houses and families. The next day we were friends again, my nose was in place and just like in a sitcom when something major happens and everyone wonders how the show will continue, in the next episode everything is back to normal. There was only once that I caught him after he hit me. I grabbed him and put him into a headlock and thought I finally had the upper hand. Like a rabid dog he bit me and tore a quarter sized chunk out of fresh my left palm…yep lost that one too.
I’ve always been that body size and type that make other guys want to puff out their chest and lay down the challenge flag. I’m big, but not too big, 6’1”, I teeter between athletic and kinda fat and I’ve been told I have pretty broad shoulders. When I was in junior high and high school, I was lean and muscular. One afternoon during sophomore lunch period I was sitting in the cafeteria with group of friends at one of those oversized bleacher-chair-like lunch tables. We were just eating our cheese pizza, socializing normally and minding our own business. I was mid-sentence and mid-teen-tale when suddenly I felt a feminine hand on each of my shoulders. Frozen in confusion and hoping it was a cute girl I liked, I slowly turned my head to see who was stroking my ego and upper arms. To my horror I realized the hands were wrinkled and attached to an elderly woman I didn’t and no one else at recognized. The woman was just repeated “Such broad shoulders…I just LOVE broad shoulders…” and then she just walked away leaving me confused and a little afraid. So I guess they’re pretty broad. Yes she was real by the way. There have been many times when just walking down the street, as an adult, I’ve had other guys literally just look at me and yell “I bet I could fuck you up!” It’s as if they were deciding, sizing me up and having a conversation in their own heads when they see me and decide to yell their internally debated conclusion out loud. I would equate it to a guy seeing an attractive woman while walking down the street and yelling a cat call like “Hey Baby! I’m gunna get all up in that! Yeah….” and then just keep on walking down the street afterwards. I’m not always so lucky that they keep walking though and some of the time I unintentionally antagonize the situation.
Eye Matey!-- My bobber floated on the surface of the grey waters of the man-made pond as tiny droplets of rain splashed around it. The sky pissed down a misty, cold, drizzle while I sat on a rock near the shoreline. The beads of water made my oversized thick rimmed glasses harder and harder to see through. Chilled droplets of water dripped and spilled down my neck from the curly black hair that stuck out from under my brown, damp, stocking cap. They slid down my back and under the blue snowmobile suit down giving me a shiver as I watched the orange and white plastic. It was early morning in late fall somewhere in suburban Minnesota. My Aunt Joyce and I were at her best friend Tina’s new town house development. I was 11, maybe 12 and to entertain myself while the adults did adult things, I had suited up in Tina’s son’s cold weather gear and clomped down the hill fishing pole in hand and too, too big semi-waterproof snow boots on my feet to catch the one possible bass that was living in murky cold water. Sniffling and casting my day away, I now sat by the water’s edge. It was very late in the season for fishing, but occasionally I was able to pull a small sunfish with tiny rusted hook in its mouth from the not so deep wetness. Careful and calculated I stroked down its needle-like fins, but inevitably would be stung on my pruny, cold palm as I removed it from the curved barb hoof from its cheek. My hands shivered as I wiped the slimy fish goo off my palm and onto the snowsuit pant leg. I placed a kernel of bright yellow corn back on the hooked point just before tossing the line back into the water. A ripple circled outward from the point of where the plastic float splashed and made the only other sound that broke up the monotonous, distant echo of beeping sounds of alarms from the construction trucks backing up over and over. I pined internally about my miserable situation, but it was still better than being inside with nothing to do. The half-complete construction zone set a less than appealing stage for the events around me. I was wet, cold, bored and frustrated. The rain stopped and the sun tried to break out from behind the drab overhanging clouds, giving me a chance to ring out my wet thick gloves and let my fingers dry in a bit breeze. It still wasn’t comfortable, but it added a bit of respite to my dreary fishing hole. I took my hat off and set it next to my stony seat. It wasn’t long after that I started to hear the clamoring voices of other children slowly approaching. They were all boys around my age give or take a year. I was bigger than all of them, I was always bigger than most kids around my age, but there more than six of them. They rode up on their bicycles in a cacophony of pre-adolescent clamor and dropped the BMXs, Huffys and Schwinns to their feet by the pond about 15 yards away from me. I didn’t pay them much attention, but they immediately pain attention to me. “What are you doing here loser?” their not so bright leader shrieked out in a taunting, child tone. “Ugh you stink!” He pinched his nose and made a sour face at the fictitious odor. “Ewwww!! Awwe Gross!!” The impish cub scout troop all joined in the undeserving ridicule and waved their hands in front of their noses wafting away the fictitious odor. “I’m fishing” I answered in a flat tone trying ignoring their unwarranted mockery. “Whatever loser. Don’t touch our bikes!” The tiny clan leader snapped back. “I wasn’t going to.” I was annoyed and offended. “I don’t care about your bikes.” I really didn’t and I didn’t even look in their direction or acknowledge them beyond that. “You better not touch ‘em!” His immature vocal chords screeched back. “I don’t want to see a scratch on them when we get back!” “Yeah!” The rest of the boys backed up their puny chieftain with a mocking jeer toward me. They all marched away to their make believe duties and frog poking or whatever the hell they were up to. I still don’t know why they all had the impression that I would be so interested in their bipedal transportation or why they didn’t just set their bikes down elsewhere. They did ride over to me after all. Apparently this was their territory and I had invaded. Twenty minutes, give or take, had passed since the boys parted from my presence and I still had no luck with catching my elusive bass. I was almost ready to give up with my angling ambitions for the day, when the familiar tumult of garish youthful voices returned to the region of my stony waterside perch. The lot of them were all chomping and chawing on an armful of varies sugary snacks and slurping on sodas. Their endeavors appeared to have composed of knocking over a Seven Eleven candy counter or maybe they had defeated the Witch of the Wood from Hansel and Gretel and were enjoying their spoils. I kept my attention on my bobber and tried to ignore the irksome pint-sized squad of pipsqueaks. They were being obnoxiously loud as children hopped up on goofballs normally are and were telling each other how awesome their blah blah blah was and how blah blah blah was so stupid. I really didn’t care, I just wanted them to move on and leave me be. Then the bike inspections began. Soda still in hand, the not so mighty leader squatted down with a Twizzler hanging from his mouth, his cheek full of confectionary and started examining his bike. The other boys followed suit all started doing the same. “Ahh What! There’s a scratch here!” One of them called out “This wasn’t here before!” “Hey there’s mud on mine!” Another proclaimed from their huddle. “My chain is off!” A third voice chimed in. “He musta messed with our bikes!!” The leader stood up and pointed in my direction the liquorish twist still dangling out of his teeth. “I knew he was gunna mess with ‘em!”
The troop made their way over to my direction still munching on their candy, their hands were dirty and sticky from all the sugar and mud stuck to their fingers. They looked like the white-trash Little Rascals on their way to a diabetes problem. “I thought told you not to mess with our bikes!” The Mini-Captain of the crew accused chopping on his wad of sugar. “I’m fishing! I told you I don’t care about your stupid bikes!” I snapped back annoyed still watching my bobber. “Well they’re mess up! It musta been you!” He quipped back “Yeah!” The others all chimed in. “You know what?! You still stink…I think you need a shower!” The boy said menacingly. A low, sticky trickle of sugary liquid started to stream into my curly black hair, down my neck and into the back of my snowmobile suit as his can emptied above me. The little leader’s Lord of the Flies justice was being served for a crime I didn’t commit. The rest of the pigmy platoon found me guilty as their new pariah and began to bathe me soda and backwash. I hung my head in shame. I was humiliated, but I didn’t want to escalate the situation any more than they already had. All I wanted was to be left alone and to catch that fish. A single empty can bounced off the side of my head and then the hailstorm of aluminum began as the other boys wound up and pitched their metals vessels at me. “What’s wrong?! Are you stupid?” The leader was getting frustrated at my lack of physical response from his sucrose soaking sentencing. “Just leave me alone!” I yelled out. “I didn’t mess with your bikes!” I crouched my head down between my knees and tried to wring the soda from my hair with my fingers and protect myself from any further flying fizzy drink receptacles. The metal monsoon changed to a flesh and bone maelstrom of prepubescent fists bombarding me. Every time I tried to stand to fight back I was struck or pushed down from another side. My glasses were knocked from my face making the world a blurred and distorted myriad of color. There was pummeling pain coming from every direction and sticky syrup stung my eyes. I was in my very own scene from Gulliver’s Travels as the mini mob overtook me with their numbers and forced me helpless to the ground. Sitting up on my knees, I blindly and wildly swung my arms around trying to defend myself from the assault. I fell forward and reached out for the nearest adolescent assaulter within my arm’s length. Like a kraken dragging a ship to its watery demise I wrapped my arms and legs around him and made my best attempted to squeeze the breath from his lungs. Cries of “Let him go!” started to echo around me as my beating intensified. My grappling maneuvers and hopes of deterring the attacks only further incited their rage. The boy wriggled and squirmed, whimpering in my arms as his comrades tried to pry him from my grip and hammered on my upper back and skull with rocks in hand, like apes trying to crack open a coconut. Desperate instinct took over. The only training I had in any sort of self-defense came from my one-sided exchanges with Timmy and watching pro-wrestling on television. There was no chance now of performing a flying elbow or a body slam like the goliaths in the ring, so I did the only other move I knew. My thumb plunged deep into the boy’s eye socket like a bowler gripping his ball. I twisted as I pressed against the boy’s squishy eyeball and a piercing screaming shriek rang from his throat. All the boys stopped dead in their tracks and stared in horror as the boy squirmed and squealed like a dying hog in my grip. His screamed startled even me and I released him and pushed his body away. The distant beeping of the trucks was the only other sound besides his sobs. He scrambled to his feet holding his hand over his eye, a bit of blood smeared on his cheek. All the boys scurried around him and dragged him to his feet. “Oh my god! Let’s get out of here!” their shrill voices illustrated the extent of the terror they were feeling from what they had just witnessed. “Your eye!” “Come on! Come on!” The boys mounted their bikes and started waving their arms scooping the air to pull the group together. Yelling insults over their shoulders in my direction, they retreated back to wherever they came from. I sat on my knees whimpering and crying to myself from both pain and disbelief of what had just happened while wiping the newly forged cyclops’ goopy eye slime from my thumb. My head throbbed and vision swam as I blindly crawled around on all fours feeling for my glasses in the wet sand and grasses. My fingers felt familiar glass and plastic and I raised the twisted, broken frames to my face bringing the world back into full focus. Bent and crooked the nosepiece cut the bridge of my own nose as I adjusted mangled spectacles. I began to sob to myself in fear of how my Grandmother would react to them needing to replace them. Slowly I collected my fishing pole, and hat before trudging back up the hill to Tina’s townhome. The entire way back I replayed what had just happened and asked myself why they had needlessly chosen to target and attack me. My Aunt and Tina both met me inside and swooped over to help me like a pair of mother hens. I peeled off the wet, sticky, snowsuit revealing the dark bruising on my skin underneath and bawled as I recounted the tale, leaving out the portion of the story where I may have permanently blinded a boy my age. They helped me to the bathroom and Tina started a shower for me. I winced and clenched my teeth as I washed the sand, blood and soda from my new wounds and thick now matted hair. The warm steam and hot water felt like thousands of stinging needles against my cold bruised skin. I thought more about the boy and wondered how badly I had hurt him and got sick to my stomach of the idea of me having literally poked his eye out. To this day I have no clue as to what that boy’s ocular fate was. I don’t know which boy he even was. Was he the instigator? Was he just someone’s brother that decided to tag along? Did he enjoy attacking another boy his age? Was he the one that was just watching and felt bad for me while everyone else took part in the cruelty? All I do know about the outcome is we both lost that day.
submitted by BodatheDestroyer to ShortyStories [link] [comments]


2018.10.31 23:09 PoetryAreWe META WARS - SEASON 2 - Prologue / Code Red / The Merchant and the Mod - EPISODE 1

For those of whom haven't been initiated.------> Bada Bing.
DISCLAIMER: If you are prone to fear grammatical errors, spelling issues, random perspective changes, and novice level writing skills, blame u/nerdman01. You will be triggered deeply. Getting close to end means I don't have much time to proofread, I write and post now. Please be mindful that people have been altered and is meant to be all in good fun. Now have fun and thank you for your time- and thank all of you for making my time here great and enjoyable. I WILL ALWAYS MEAN THAT. I wouldn't be writing it if no one was humoring me. FOR THE O.T.P!
Thanks for watching!
This which is a canon map of the MetaScape made by the incredible JustHereForTheLawls(Behond). I’d like to thank her for everything she does and Meep for the original map that she borrowed from.
Link to all the art done for Season 1 so far.
Thank you, Meep. Meep wrote about 70% of this first episode. I gave him a big responsibility and he handled it well. Thanks, buddy.

SEASON 2 - EPISODE 1 - Prologue / Code Red / The Merchant and the Mod

Once again, like an ode, we must start with a question, and just like before I’m not gonna. I’m going to go on and on about how this series has pressed a matter so closely to me. That many of my friends and nearly family here are not so well. You may add that that’s not my prerogative, but how would I help, how could I sit idly by in a mess and not attempt to pick up what was left around me? Then I asked myself, as a poet does, how do I help them without cause to alarm? Well, this is how, through narrative and fun. If for a second I can give someone just a moment to forget their worries and let go, then my mission is accomplished. I can’t come through the internet and hold you, or hug you, or consol you like I’ve wanted, but this is what I can give. I can give a world to you. Some of my friends I’ve added… I’ve learned that they’ve become something I’m not. Unable to leave their house, unable to cope with the world around, disabled physically or mentally, and there’s the thing I can’t fix, but damn it, my friends deserve to go on adventures too. I love you. I love you all. Thank you.
On a proud corner in recesses of the internet, a community thrived. Some would say that it was small enough to understand their motives, some would tell you that their presence didn’t matter at all. No one was truly right and no one was truly wrong. The only truth in this matter was that they did exist and their existence was something. Some knew others, and some met few, but it never mattered because the community grew and grew. There was respect, intent, direct cause for argument; there was so much more and some didn’t care for the long winded analysis of a person they hardly saw. These are the stories of that little corner of a much bigger part in the whole of this world. Good luck, my adventurers. The lone wanderer trotted through the gritty, sandy terrain. He was lonely, but he didn’t mind. He was thinking of a handful of users he’d joked with before his excursion.
AmeriFreedom laughed.
BlackoutAviation said he was insane.
Pyrocrat simply smiled.
He hated this, but it wasn’t as if there was any other path he could take, any other way he could have followed, any other creek he could have wandered. No, for the first time in his life that he wished so dearly that he could have a choice in a matter, the universe closed him off from any decisions, leaving him poor, but not destitute. Filthy would be an easier word.
But of course, that was simply the way it was. The way it had been for the past 150 years.
The wanderer grimaced. Had it really been that long? It had seemed just yesterday that Johnny Joestar, the greatest of the Lurker Lords, almost overthrew the Shipping Nations singlehandedly.
He took another step, as he wiped the sweat off his foot, dusting off the sand ever so slightly. The wanderer wished that he had better sandals. But that was one ironic thing that always remained consistent throughout the wanderer’s long life. His footwear was always poor; his feet never took a moment to rest, whether the task be ruling a realm or trading shitposts. Good shoes would wear down, as they always did.
His trades took expertise, and expertise required decent footwear. It had been so long since he was able to trade freely with the nations on his travels; it had been so long since Alpharius made him a spy for the Starco Nation.
He slipped on the sand in the midst of his deep thought. He caught himself over the sands, as he’d prefer not to fall in this heat. He tugged with both his hands grasping the leash of his camel. Good camel.
He supposed he couldn’t complain, not after everything that had happened. After everything that he’d done, he was lucky to have been left with nothing but a slap on the ass and a warrant of free passage from Commissar Alpharius, less. He was lucky that he wasn’t just a simple merchant, but an ambassador and messenger to the great Discordian Peninsula.
The wanderer, lost in his thoughts, stumbled a bit on the grains of sand, momentarily losing his balance again. A moment was all it took. He plummeted to the ground, an icy cool expression remaining on his face.
Hitting the mound once more of insanely hot sand face first, he immediately got up. This time he coughed up dozens of hackerey fits, grains spilling down his face. He glanced back at his cargo and camel, still sitting useless in the sand.
“What are you lookin’ at, boyo?” The camel spit to the side in response. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t judge me.” Maybe not so good
Shrugging off the remaining dust and sand from his shabby clothes, the wanderer returned to his worthless habit of walking, whipping the camel slightly to get it to move. Too bad a truck or car couldn’t be used in this splintering heat.
Commissar Alpharius and the lone wanderer had once been acquaintances… perhaps friends. But those days were long gone, swept away into the sands of time.
The Commissar, in the early days of his reign, had worked feverishly to reform the old and dusty systems of yore. He separated each of the Shipping Nations with large, imposing walls, forbidding almost all communication between the Districts, halting the wars indefinitely.
With rumors of the third coming of the Reddit High Commission, he needed to bring word to the great Oddy and Geech to remark on the happenings of the Meta. Ask them for the formation of a treaty that would hereby establish a common currency and common structure of government. This was hopeful dreaming, of course. The Discordians have always wished to act as a separate entity, but the Sub now bled talent and users to those once seldom lands.
Anonim near forbid this, but he followed Alpharius’ orders as we know… we can feel the turmoil on the beaten path the Sub was taken, the same feeling that he felt on this unkempt path, this undiscovered path that he faired.
Ever since the fleeing refugees of Season 3A had taken to the Discord Islands, there were no vessels to be taken on to the inlet. It was a strong move by the whole of Discord. After long debate between the major leaders, this was the action taken. The peninsula would be left in isolation. That’s why the wanderer was taking the beaten path.
The lone wanderer squinted his eyes, staring up at the scorching sun above him, its radiance glimmering like garnet gemstones onto his face.
Once, the lone wanderer spoke brazenly of a day when his kingdom would lie as far as the light touched. That day never was. But then again, he thought as he smiled faintly, the self proclaimed “King of the Tomars” was never the sort to lose hope.
It would take much more for plenty more people to lose hope.
...
The heat was intense, but luckily for him, it was a more temperate day than most.
He saw them in the shadows of the horizon. He took over a dune and made the realization. He had thought he found civilization, and at one point it was.
Making it to the land bridge, he spotted a few precarious figures not too far from him, but obscured by the rolling hills of sand.
It couldn’t be! It had been lost to legend, but here it was. Ripe for the picking!
“There’s gotta be somethin’ in there,” he spoke to his camel. The camel didn’t seem to care one way or the other and made a guttural sound.
JeepDave squinted suspiciously at the beast, “Who asked you?” The merchant took to a cactus growing near the remnants of the great MultiShipping city that fell from the sky all those many years ago. He peeled the cactus with his knife and went about sucking the water from it.
He surveyed and remembered that back in his day and age, there had been nothing but water here when Subzero had brought down the city from the sky. He thought it was just rumors, most speculated that city came down due to some kind of Mod negligence, but Jeep knew the truth. That bunch of kids partied hard.
He was looking for gold, jewels, lost records, archives, old posts, anything that could considered karma worthy to some rich schmuck. He ventured further into the towers and buildings poking out from the sand. It seemed to him that the fortitude of the architecture was incredible simply based on the fact that most, if not all of the buildings were still whole.
“What in Daron’s name?” he asked, hardly caring about the loot anymore. This was the finest piece of interest. A small shipping vessel; a sailboat caught in the sand. The keel was sticking out from the turf.
He wandered up to it. It looked… familiar. When you live for such a long time, as wizened users do… sometimes things are just forgotten. When you live multiple lifetimes, sometimes you just simply let go.
There was a small ringing in his ears that made him press forward to this humble little boat.
“Poor thing must have been caught in the expanse of land…” he once again told his camel. He began to search in his carriage. He started flinging useless items such as a broken shaving kit, a bath towel, a band of rubber ducks, and finally found his hatchet.
He knew there was something about this boat… he could just feel it. Call it mercantile intuition.
He began the slow, meticulous chore of taking lurching swings. He began to sweat, and he knew being where he was, this could last for several long hours long, but something drove him on. The hull finally had a hole in it. Not large enough yet for his body, but it was a start.
He peered inside the cargo hold. There wasn't much but there was a faint glow coming from somewhere in the ship. He began to chip away once more at the wood.
Finally, a lucky break came as the sand had weakened the portion of wood he was hacking. It fell apart with just his hands. He tore off the remainder of the boards and jumped inside. The light from the outside was his only guide. He flicked his lighter and lit his cigar.
“Last one, promise,” he said as he chuckled a bit. He was walking around the roof of the cargo hall, looking through the various items that lay scattered. He picked up some old trinkets, scrolls and quills, and many essentials for sailing, but nothing of value worth weighing down him or his camel.
He instead investigated the soft glow, the one that seemed to be emanating from the opposite side of the hatch. This hatch lead to the deck of the ship and it was now illuminating his sandals.
He kicked it in and the entire chunk of wood fell through to the soft sand underneath. He tied some rope to one of support beams in the ship and threw it down.
He jumped down, noticing the floor of sand wasn't far from the hatch. He hit the ground, cigar still in mouth, but the impact wasn’t the reason it nearly fell out. His mouth opened ajar from the spectacle he was seeing.
There she was, the mod herself. Coraline Jones, trapped in stasis.
He wandered up to the woman floating in midair. A blue, swirling ethereal essence bubbled her entire body. All the memories of the previous years flooded Jeep. He remembered the war, he remembered the users, he remembered Cora. He reached up to the energy. He struggled to push through it. He grit his teeth.
The force was quite painful, but he managed. He was nearly to her arm… and he grabbed it. He yanked with all of his might and the lone mod was forcefully pulled out of stasis.
They tumbled back, and Coraline's petite frame was no match for JeepDave’s… more… erh… robust body. In doing so they both met, but not before the platform they had fallen onto began a mesmerizing glow. Another, more darkened essence began swirling around the two. Their bodies began to dematerialize and with a flash of light, they were both gone. With their exit and teleportation away the sands finally collapsed the ship and the sand buried the remainder of the forgotten boat.
They say that war never truly ends for those that have lived through it.
Maybe that was true, but I wasn’t going to waste away my days moping around like some of the others did, or drink my sorrows away like some of the generals. I’m happy to say that I’m a very stable man, and I’m as happy as I could ever be. The world is at peace. I’m at peace.
And yet not. And yet…. I know I’m deluding myself. I know that everyday; I wake up in my sturdy little bed with sweat trickling down my neck. Occasionally, I awake to the echoes of my screams, reverberating through the cottage that I’d bought from some old woman, who had been awfully happy to give this perfectly nice abode up. Sometimes, I ponder her story. What’s her life been like? Why was she so eager to give up a house? Did it have bad memories? Maybe she was a widow, the War had certainly produced a multitude of those. Maybe she wanted to move on with her life. All I remember her telling me is ‘Some ghosts are allowed to leave’ and that was that.
Maybe I should stop thinking about this woman I haven’t talked to in a couple decades. Maybe I’m the one who needs to move on.
BOOM!
My eyes flickered into focus as the shrilling, gasping sound pulsed through the air, running through the entire village, even cracking a few windows. Upon further inspection, I could actually see the old, dusted fragments of a pasty substance on the ground, all scattered over the village, with no respect for private property.
Funny, I had just begun to wonder if all of those old shitpost mines had either finally been dug up or blown. I waited, a few wandering glances lingering on my undamaged window. I edged a bit closer to the window, then crawled a few feet back out of shame. Who would want to watch people react to horrible tragedies? This is the MetaScape, not the LiveLeak Caverns.
Except, on some minute level, this tragedy, like so many before it, had simply blended together in my mind, Exacting little, if any real emotion from myself. And so, I stayed back, my eyes determined not to stare. My ears, however, were not so easily persuaded.
First I could hear the nervous and panicked murmurs of the locals as they processed what had just happened. And then, like always, their true natures erupted, lasting all but a few seconds. There are those that I don’t even have to hear in order to know what they do: they flee, or simply stand, shell-shocked or rather disinterested.
And then there are those who rush into the ugly little incident in some attempt to fix what’s already broken, not knowing or caring that their action simply draws out the tragedy.
And then there are those that I’ve always found intriguing. Those that make no decision of their own, simply standing there, not stalwart but in wait. Their patience is rewarded with hard math; they always go with the majority. Whichever path the throng takes - fleeing, retrieving, or simply standing - they follow without question, now relaxed, validated with their choice. Previously they were too afraid to even make a choice of their own, and now they just follow whomever seems to be “winning” the nonverbal moral argument, in spite of whatever they may want to do.
Cowards. Every single one of them. I despise how easy life must be for these people, never having to make a damn decision for themselves, and obviously not one that will pit them against the interests of the overwhelming, unflinching majority, or, as an old friend used to say, the circlejerk.
No matter. They weren’t my concern, not anymore.
“LeGuy123? Someone! Daron, help me pick him up, please, please be okay, please be okay!”
“Hey! Someone help me with this kid!”
The pit formed in my stomach, churning around in darkness. Great. It was a kid?
“No! Don’t touch him!”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran as fast as I could down the tight paths of my cottage, getting as far away as I could from this…. This…..
Finally, the screams and the cries dulled down, and only the sound of silence blessed the air. As I looked around me, my heartbeat elevated to alarming levels.
I was in my bedroom, or what counted for one. There was only two pieces of furniture: a firm, pale grey mattress, with a stringy looking sheet covering it. The only other thing in the room was a small, almost insignificant cabinet. And yet, within that cabinet, were the most important possessions I had left.
There was an entire box full of bottles, most of them empty. And… there was an old, faded picture. The particulars had all been washed away with time, but I could see the faint outlines of a small crowd of people in a line together, seemingly posing for a photo. Strange; I never remembered taking this photo.
I was still staring at the photo when a bright light suddenly flashed into existence, temporarily blinding me with its radiance. Falling backwards onto the frozen floor, I coughed slightly as the light evaporated. And in its place…
My blood stopped dead cold. This had to be a nightmare, or I was in the darkest, shittiest depths of hell itself. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move. Unfortunately, the same wasn’t true for the familiar figure in front of me.
“Why hello, Amused_Lad. It’s time.”
General_Dictator loomed in my cottage. I didn’t want to believe it, but it was him, alright.
“Lad, it’s time to call out that favor. Kellco lives once more.”
“Jeep. Jeep!” Nimble fingers were poking and prodding and feeling his face. Sure, he was surprised, but the lack of consciousness really made him apathetic to the entire situation. “Jeep, please. Wake up.” Her voice was finally melding with his dream when reality hit him. He realized who was with him.
He looked at the thin woman who had her eyes covered by a wrap tied behind her head. “Coraline! I found you! You’re here! This is incredible, you were trapped under the dunes and…” She remained sitting with her legs under herself. “And you're not happy… oh boy. Where are we?”
The merchant king jumped to his feet.
Jeep stared upwards and saw the night's sky beyond the loom of many buildings surrounding them. They were in the back of a dirty alleyway. A large thumping of music could be heard in the distance.
“Here, let's get you outta here, Anon has been worried sick for a good fifty years and AutoMod gone off the rocker.” He began to lift her, but she yank her arm away from his hands. “Come on, teleport us on outta here and we'll get you back to the tire fire so you can fix it all up.” She remained looking down at the small puddle on the concrete.
“I tried. I can't.” Her voice was low and desperate, “We’re not in the sub, Jeep. I'm blind, anxious, and best of all, my powers don't work here. How long was I out?”
Jeep frantically looked back and forth in an attempt to address their location. It was cut short by whispers echoing down the alley.
“I hear someone. Come on, Cora.” He tugged her by the hand.
There was nowhere to hide. The alley was a dead end and the only few dumpsters in the back weren't in great spots for cover. “Cora, I don't think it's a good time to be caught by the locals, we gotta play it cool.”
There were two shadows that rounded the corner. Their eyes went from amused to suspicious immediately. One was a quite small man, while the other was a ruffian-looking girl.
“Well-looky, Yvne, some street urchins. Haven't seen them before. Y'all lost?” The girl spoke more kindly than expected, but the other had his eyes on Coraline.
“We’re just passing through, trying to find something to eat and all.” Jeep attempted to remain as passive as possible, looking down he noticed the small firearm hanging off the legs of each of these people.
They were in uniform, of sorts, unique from one another, but very much in uniform. Were they police? ‘Stardis Enforcement’ read out on their black apparel. There's no way, Jeep thought… “We just came from the other side of town and we’re just looking for a better spot, you know? Panhandling going slow this time a-year. New hiatus and all.”
Yvne flatly held out his hand. “Gonna need to see some I.D.”
Jeep felt himself. Patted down his pocket, felt some sand in one, and attempted to feign like he had one at one point. “Musta forgot it, fellas.”
“Come on, Yvne. We ain't got time for this…”
“Hey, hold on. These two don't look exactly like the norm, Jan. Where are ya guys from, exactly?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small mechanism that covered his eye. He stared through the glass of the piece and peered through looking at Jeep. “No CC, no role, not verified, no opt-in channels. These guys are as white as baking flour, Jan. Hate to say it, we gotta book ‘em.” He looked through the mechanism at Coraline.
The small device fluttered with numbers, startling Yvne. Jan was concerned, while Yvne looked with intrigue at the mod. “Uh, Envy, what’s it saying?”
Flabbergasted, Yvne muttered,“I, uh, don’t know? The readers going…” Jeep’s fingers wrapped around the wrist of Cora out of sight from the two fixed on the reader.
“Where did you two get your invite, exactly?” Jan began.
The duo in uniform looked at each other, realizing exactly the importance of the moment. Yvne reached for his radio. “Hey, RH, we’re gonna need backup for clearance and certification. We might have a code TxS.”
“Cora dear, this is where we run.”
“What?!” All three excluding Jeep exclaimed.
Jeep barreled through the officials, knocking over Yvne and spinning Jan in place. He held onto Cora’s arm while the blind lead the blind.
They ran from the alley. Jeep tugged on her arm, her feet barely keeping up. Jan gathered Yvne and the chase began.
Jeep and Cora rounded the corner of the night streets. Jeep realized that this was a busy portion of whatever city they were in. This must have been an attraction in the city, because it looked as if everyone and their grandma had their car parked in the street.
The neon lights bled onto Jeep and Cora as the multitude of colors and headlights shined on them. People walking, talking, laughing while they took to the sidewalks. Jeep dove the two into a small crowd, Cora accidentally headbutting and shoulder-checking people while she joined the merchant into the busy streets.
“Piap! Chug,” RogueryNight yelled, while the ping pong landed in the cup.
“Ah, com’on!” Piap slurred while Jeep and Coraline ran behind the two, outside the window of bar they were playing the drinking game at.
Yvne and Jan hit the corner and looked quickly for the perpetrators. “There!” She shouted into the night, watching Cora slink around a honking car in the wake of Jeep. Yvne leaped over the Discordian vehicle that was blocking the road while Jan slid across the hood.
“Jeep, who are those people?!” Cora yelled at Jeep.
“Don’t know, but it seems they really wanna find out who you are!” A car with the license plate LEWD1 came to a screeching halt in front of Jeep and Cora.
“Hey, get outta the road!” Screamed Mayron from his window. Little did anyone know, the car Mayron was driving was packed with volatile NSFW/L art that could have exploded at a moment’s notice.
“Sorry!” said the merchant indignantly. Cora for a small moment looked at Jeep in the eyes and he looked back, surprised. They continued as quickly as they could muster.
Jan and Yvne were nearly on top of them. Yvne came around the opposite side of the car. Jeep reached into his pocket. He threw the sand in Yvne’s eyes and ran through him.
While Yvne stood in agony, Jan continued without him. “Where the hell are the mods!?” She reached to her person and held the radio to her mouth. “Hello!? This is the SxT reporting, we have two runners in Original_Content. We will need mod support, asap!” She flicked to a different channel on the radio, “Uh, Cobalt, a little help would be nice! SxT and everything going down in O_C. I know you heard the pings,” She said singsongy.
There was a pause while the young woman in uniform made her way to the perps. The radio came to life and a rhythmic squeaking could be heard over the static, “Uh, sorry, love. Not much of a good time. I’m…. in the middle of something. Actually, full disclosure, something’s in the middle of me.” The radio clicked and it went silent. Her face was in caught between disgust and intrigue and Jan half-considered opening up #eyebleach.
Cora finally made it to the opposite sidewalk with the aid of Jeep. As they passed the busy people wandering the curb, engaged with the view of the city, the patrons hardly noticed these two running for their life.
He saw another alley and the duo ducked in, but not before he kicked over one of the empty dumpsters.
As they booked it down the secluded alley, away from the large crowds and heavy noise, Jeep recognized a small issue at hand. They had time to run, but nowhere to run to.
The two would need a place to settle down and hide. He ducked right at one of the forks of the brick housings. Jan was only seconds away and was conditioned for a run like this. On the other hand, Jeep’s lungs were on fire and Coraline was excessively annoyed. Fearful for her life admittedly, but still excessively annoyed.
Jeep slowed as he noticed the walls closing in; they were reaching a dead end. He felt his pockets while they stood there waiting for the Discordian to breach the corner. With no last resource on his person it seemed that they would be subdued.
“What are you thinking, Jeep?” Begged Cora. Looking up, around, every option was either too physically improbable or entirely impractical. Moments before the officer rounded the corner the brick retracted and opened a path, and a gentleman was on the other side beckoning them in.
Jeep looked back and saw Coraline, holding her hands out to guide herself, “Uh, Jeep?”
“Damn it.” Jeep had forgotten her. He leaped over the edge of the magically cut out path. Jan was nearly on them. 20 meters, closing. 10 meters before Jeep reached Coraline and 3 meters before the wall closed in. Jan grabbed hold of Jeep’s cantine hanging off his body. She yanked; it was lucky for Jeep that his body wasn’t modest enough for the hole in the wall.
Jan stood pulling, her body on the opposite side of the wall. The bricks still were laying themselves. The final brick hovered, shoved into place, and the strap from the cantine snapped. Jan was left on her rear.,antine in hand.
She looked at the wall where hole the had once been. She flipped the cantine. On the back it read: JeepDave’s. If you’re reading this, it probably means I died of thirst. Respect the dead. Put it back.
She knew the shadow who was helping those foreigners… “Cerberus,” she whispered aloud.
I looked at him for a bit too long.
“Dictator… what are you doing here? I paid my dues.”
“What are we doing here?” From the darkened corners of the room I saw figures begin to move. Shadows at first, but they jumped one by one and surrounded the man looking at me from the foot of my bed. That seemed a little overambitious, but it was slightly intimidating.
I recognized the first two, but the last was someone new to the ship. The deadly H9, the silent Argama; all of these users must be feared in this age. It’s been years since I had heard anything of them.
“I can’t do this… not again. Please leave me to my thoughts,” My hands were beginning to shake. He wouldn’t make such an “offer” unless he had me…
“Unfortunately, we won’t release her until you aid us, Amused_Lad. You don’t have much thinking to do…” General_Dictator looked on him with sympathy. “We both don’t have many options. Hands are moving the pieces and we’ve both been caught in the moment. If you want her to live, we leave now.”
I may have gotten a bit too angry at the moment. I flung the blanket up into the air, dividing the room. I grabbed the handful of shurikens from atop my dresser and threw them through the blanket.
I grabbed the kunai from under my pillow. Armorless, I cartwheeled, using my bed as a platform.
I was over my bed and standing on the opposite side before the blanket came down.
The return fire hit me. I managed to deflect a few projectiles, but one bit me in the upper chest and dug deep. The blanket finally fell to the ground. All four were gone. I looked at the gash in my body; it was bleeding profusely.
I heard it from above me. A small ruffle of clothes.
I was too late. They descended on me from the rafters. General took his own blood-soaked arm and wrapped it around my face. I thrashed him against the wall and then against the dresser. I picked up one of the drawers and bashed it behind my body. This allowed me to take General by the arm, using his momentum flipped him over my body.
It was H9 that came next and she fell on top me. She held down both my arms while I struggled; I nearly slammed her head into the frame of the bed, but it was hardly a second before the other was upon me with a gas mask.
“Morter! Now!” That must’ve been the one that was nameless to me. Not like I cared too much. I was being assaulted in my own home and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. The mask slipped on my face easily while I held my breath. I held it so long and thrashed around so much that every muscle in my body began to burn, but alas, I’m a simply a user and I had to breath eventually. The smell was familiar and my senses dulled to a mesh of lights and sounds. The last thing I saw was the shadow of a man holding some strange rod. There I was, out like a light.
As they dragged his body out of the house, the radio went off as the alarm blared.
*Good, Good, Good morning Meta children, Shitposting legends, Theorists, F.F writers, OC artist, Old guards, the mods, and the rest of you lurkers out there. It’s time to wake up to the MetaScape because it’s another day to live! This is KotsThePro comin'atcha with some songs that are there to wake your ass up. Sponsored and supported by the Starco Nation, this radio station wouldn’t be possibly unless you weren’t tuning in, and for that I thank you. Thanks, Alphy. Now, let me do my job give y'all some music. This is 98.5 K.O.T.S-ThePro signing off.
Credits:
Starring: u/jeepdave, u/TheCoralineJones, @LadyJango, @Yvne, u/Amused_Lad, u/General_Dictator,
Also Starring: u/kotsthepro, @CobaltButterfly, u/Alpharius1701, u/OddsomeOddy, u/Geechan1, u/Morbidmort, u/H9419, u/LeGuy123, Anonim97, @Cerebrus, @Mayron, u/AmeriFreedom, u/BlackoutAviator, and u/Pyrocrat.
Fuck u/nerdman01 in particular. He wrote that, not me. I love him.
submitted by PoetryAreWe to StarVStheForcesofEvil [link] [comments]


2016.12.29 09:35 UncleRukhus [IIL] My Wife and Kids, Two and a Half Men, and Rick and Morty [WEWIL]

Can you recommend a TV show based on your judgment of my favs (in order for the most part):
 
Comedy:
My Wife and Kids (In love with Janet Kyle... unable to consider marriage with real life women now)
Chappelle's Show (GOAT)
Two and a Half Men sans any AK Episodes (quintessential witty sitcom humoalpha-male humor)
Eastbound and Down (G douchey humor OAT)
Rick and Morty (debatable if the humor is an 11/10 or if the adventure is an 11/10... I'd say both - the creator gave us a true gift.. you should watch him on YouTube)
Family Guy (pure laughs)
American Dad (laughs+story+characters that grow on you. It's amazing that years ago when this show premiered, I wanted to hate it. Yet it's so good, it broke through that groundless bias with EASE.)
Always Sunny (LMAO+characters that grow on you... Start with "The Nightman Cometh")
Friends (quintessential 90s humor sitcom)
Modern Family (OD wit... but i love it. Also loaded with gorgeous AND talented people, which is just uplifting to see now and again when the ORs are more commonplace than the ANDs)
Impractical Jokers (holy shit... low-budget suffocating laughs)
Da Ali G Show (holy wit... low-budget suffocating laughs)
South Park (when I was 7, it was funny for a 7yo.. now that I'm 25, it's funny for a 25yo... worked out well)
 
Cartoons:
Samurai Champloo (Shinichiro is the GOAT)
Cowboy Bebop (Shinichiro is the GOAT)
Batman: The Animated Series (10/10 as a child; 10/10 as an adult)
Spiderman: The Animated Series (10/10 as a child; 10/10 as an inner child --> that nostalgia of the exciting and romantic life of a 90s superhero you genuinely related to back then)
Futurama (story+adventure+characters that grow on you)
 
Dramas:
Better Call Saul (If you know and respect the hustle, this will get your heart racing. If you think it's slow...life musta been easy.)
Breaking Bad (If this doesn't get your heart racing... you're probably that person that says 'eww porn is gross.' All other normal people that understand humans even a shred at all will love this show and every aspect of it. Also almost each episode is reminiscent of the caliber of an A-list movie down to the writing, acting, themes and motifs, and production quality.)
Black Mirror (anthology style; Watch in a random order to gain a feel for the intent of the show: He's not saying we have relationships with technology akin to each episode or are even headed in that direction.. He's taking our current EXISTING relationships with technology and using hyperbole to illustrate each of them, so we can take a closer look into the darkness of our own reflections ...that we take for granted.)
The Walking Dead (I only liked season 1.. and when it first came out sans hype. As much as I would love for that to be pretentious... it's not. It's brutally honest. The first season, like any first season, had to prove itself. Now it's just an empire he owns. He cranks out low-budget BS because the populous will watch either way... so why not increase profits by keeping costs low... Not enjoyable writing. Also there's this weird phenomenon where hype and expectations tend to skew perception. The first season 'blind' was dope.)
 
Already on the list:
 
Game of Thrones
House of Cards
American Horror Story
Narcos (like it so far)
Batman Beyond (need to rewatch.. was good as a kid)
Son of Zorn (like it so far)
Bojack Horseman (like it so far)
Fullmetal Alchemist (& Brotherhood)
Martin (seen scattered episodes and need to watch completely because I love it)
The Bernie Mac Show (seen scattered episodes and need to watch completely because I love it)
The Jamie Foxx Show (seen scattered episodes and need to watch completely because I love it)
The King of Queens (seen scattered episodes and need to watch completely because I love it)
 
Absolutely not a fan of Big Bang Theory humor. I'm a Two and a Half Men guy. Seen every sitcom in the past 30 years... and as someone who appreciates world-class writing, characters, and HUMOR, I'm consistently unamused (it should go without saying that Hollywood is world-class). There's a reason why it's so POPular.. it's for muggles and not wizards. Don't waste too much time in the comment abyss talking about your theory on this.. but I just want to make it clear that it's not my kind of wit. I think it's a show that gives normies just enough wit for them to get some jokes and feel like they 'got a clever joke,' but clever people were past that at a single-digit age and, at this point, can often even predict its punch lines... If that sentiment alienated you.. then tbh your recommendations probably aren't for me anyway. I bet you'd suggest The Office or HIMYM (not bad recs.. but like I said.. not what I'm looking for).
submitted by UncleRukhus to ifyoulikeblank [link] [comments]


2016.09.29 04:21 poetniknowit AHS S6 E2 Belated Thoughts While Watching the Episode

submitted by poetniknowit to AmericanHorrorStory [link] [comments]


2016.03.15 21:41 kelseyxiv Kristen Doute .... I'm not buying what she's selling (grading her season 4 self)

So I've noticed there's been a lot of talk this season in the Vanderpump Rules threads about Kristen Doute's redemption and how she's one of the best characters on the show now. That she is living the perfect life right now: casually dating hot men, going out for cocktails, having friends over, letting go of the past, emotionally stable. While yes, some of this could be seen as her becoming a better person, I see it a little differently. IMO, I feel this whole "look at me I'm sane" storyline is such a front and she hasn't changed in any capacity - the only thing she's changed is attempting to hone it in so the cameras don't capture it. Let's go on a journey through each point & unveil the crazy together.
Dating men: Kristen dating this season has been a painful trainwreck to watch. First, we have her and James - it's obvious by the end of the season that her whole spiel about being totally over him is bullshit. Sure, I get it, it's hard to get past relationships - but this chick is over 30 and PINING over a 22-year old manchild who has used her and Lala as pawns to make each other jealous. I mean shit - a few episodes ago she "boned" him on her Beemer a few minutes after he confessed he had cheated on her when they were dating. Way to respect yourself honey!
Her other dates with men have been equally as strange: Aleks from Below Deck, bearded guy #1, bearded guy #2. With Aleks, she was acting desperate AF basically begging him to let her spend the night and then also sucking face with him to make James jealous. That lasted long. Bearded guy #1 had a girlfriend - which she clearly already knew about but then pretended to be shocked when Stassi uncovered it. Bearded guy #2 - well she basically made him look dumb by having sex with James on the hood of her car in a parking garage so that was nice of her. Overall: I grade this area a D
Going out for cocktails: Sure, this would normally be fun and a good way for a single girl to spend some time relaxing with friends over Happy Hour and nice drinks. For Kristen though - it's not really cute or fun to watch because she is AN ALCOHOLIC. Does she ever have a sober moment? Shit, even when they were driving back from Palm Springs at like 10 AM Kristen asked if they could stop for cocktails on the HOUR DRIVE BACK. Are you kiddin' me? No ones stopping for your drunk ass so you can run inside a random bar to get drinks - it's not cute, you're not being fun and flirty, you're actually depressing to watch. Overall: C - hasn't changed a bit
Hanging out with friends all day: Well, first of all the only reason she can do this is because she's unemployed which isn't exactly admirable. Whoa - you sold 100 shirts last month!? You musta made like 200 whole dollars - color me impressed! I'll say it: her t-shirt line sucks, it's overpriced ($40 for a thin piece of cloth are you shitting me?), the wording on it is either dumb or makes LITERALLY no sense ("Don't let stuff get to you. It will. It always works out. It always has" - wtf is this shit?) and lastly it's called James Mae. As if we didn't have enough proof she's stuck to James little dick like glue.
And yeah sometimes hanging out with friends being silly and gossiping all day is fun! I love to do that of course as do most people. However, I am 99% sure Stassi can't stand Kristen but is only hanging out with her because she's the one link she can hang onto to keep her on the show. Do you think Stassi actually respects Kristen? Stassi the one who ABHORS people who cheat, who could run circles around these monkeys, who eloquently noted Kristens embarassing lack of shame. I don't think so - Stassi is wisely securing her spot on tv through Kristen. As for the rest of them, did anyone see her speech at Katies engagement party? Trying to drum up nostalgia for old times sake: "We've all been through so much! I remember when you first arrived here in your little car Schwartzie har har har - we're all such great friends!" Well.... did you notice anyones face when she was speaking? What I saw was confusion while everyone tried to figure out why she speaking as if everyone still likes her or wants to be around her. I'm not sure they could even stand her when she was dating Tom and now that she's straggling around Sur I'm positive they're all just wishing she would stop trying. Grade: C for trying but still falling short
Letting go of the past/Emotionally Stable: Emotionally stable my fucking ass - and letting go of the past? Easy for her to say - because she wants everyone to FORGET the past. Of course she wants to brush it under the rug and for everyone to forgive her. Let's review some of the things she's done in the past:
ANYWAYS - I'll end this rant now because it's getting insanely long. But does anyone else feel this way?
submitted by kelseyxiv to BravoRealHousewives [link] [comments]


2015.07.04 13:01 radiogekko I wrote a DS9 Season One guide while drunk. Here it is!

Alright, all my friends have asked me to write up DRUNK SPACE NINE summaries, to help them figure out which episodes to watch with no spoilers but with simultaneous drunk honesty, so there's no bullshit excuses for bad episodes or whatever. Here's season one, in order:
Emissary: what the fuck is happening oh my god, there's hallucinations and Picard and a bunch of shit is wrecked and omg does Quark have Rom's nose? I'm glad they fixed that because it's fucking with me, I'm too drunk for Ferengi, man this is really heavy. oh yeah and prophets
Past Prologue: Introduces Garak and LGBTQ+ subtext that I really wish went somewhere, come on star trek, for real, we couldn't have this either, huh? also KLINGONNNNNS FUCK YEAH! just watch this one, come on, do it
Babel: these people are fucked if ebola ever gets up there. it's a medical plague type episode thing and everyone is touching everyone and it's like dude the CDC gives this episode an F
A Man Alone: If you like Odo, which I do, hell yes this episode, why not. it's basically about him getting fucked with by ignorant dirt planet residents (I love Bajor but damn, people) and as someone who got bullied I really enjoyed the Sisko speech this episode, right on dude, fuck bullies
Captive Pursuit: O'Brien and alien friend, shit happens (watch if O'Brien is your bruh) also is this first contact with a Gamma Quadrant species or not? lmao I guess nobody gave a fuck, they must still be moving boxes in or something like whatever fuck this I need to hang up my posters dude. O'Brien is the fucking MAIN MAN in this episode, so alriiiight. how hard do you think he wants to get back on the Enterprise right now though lmao
Q-Less: how do you make such a bad Q episode like god dammit this is why I have to fight to get people to watch DS9 when it's the best shit ever like come on stop making my life hard
Dax: legal drama, all I remember is that the old lady judge was like my mean grandma and then it was like OHHHHHHHH
The Passenger: If you hate Bashir, the last like 15 minutes of this episode are rad. I made a gif of it like forever ago, when Livejournal was real. you'll know it when you see it
Move Along Home: I think everyone knows about this one already. some Odo/Quark bitching, some doofy shit, there's a boardgame and dumbass aliens that kinda look like my uncle the day his divorce papers were finalised so he got almost as wasted as I am right now and sold his Harley somehow and it was an ordeal. so I immediately didn't like this, and apparently nobody else did either. also FACE TATTOOS
The Nagus: honest to god don't remember this, it's a Ferengi episode and this may or may not be the first stealth mention of the Dominion but I really don't remember, oh shit, I've killed that many braincells today
Vortex: Another Odo episode, fuck yeah, but the other alien dude is a fucking douche. also he thinks a necklace is his mom or something. I never knew if it was supposed to be hopeful or a bummer or what. Odo needs someone to play video games with super bad, though. do they have mario kart at Quark's? they should. or an equivalent, whatever. space.
Battle Lines: holy shit this is the one with the Kai and Kira loses her shit and it's like INTENSE DUDE but then it's like, the aliens are the cast of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome and it's like man I just can't stop looking at all this alien 80s hair, I'm sorry your planet sucks and I guess this other shit is happening. Kira's fucking incredible in this episode though. also Sisko yells at Bashir pretty hardcore at one point, I think.
The Storyteller: what the fuck was this episode even about, like, I remember it, but seriously what the fuck was it actually about, there's some folklore alien shit and a story scares away some ghost thing and O'Brien fucking haaaates Bashir and there's some other idiot, I don't know, this episode is whatever
Progress: Kira on dirt planet with a farmer, I remember this one as being a good or okay episode but personally I was bored as fuck. they burn a hut at the end though and I was like man this musta been a hard day on set
If Wishes Were Horses: dumbass episode, but Odo talks to an ostrich like it's a person and I loved that because of course Odo would treat every kind of life, especially an unknown being with uncertain sentience, like it were a regular ol' joe because Odo got treated like shit for being some weirdo unknown lifeform thing so of course he's super polite to this fucking ostrich which just magically shows up in the promenade like bruhhhh and really just watch that 30 second clip and you're good
The Forsaken: Lwaxana Troi wants to make out with Odo super bad like this whole episode and it's pretty great but I always took issue with the fact that Odo reports this sexual harassment shit and nobody cares, like people, come on, help this dude out, what the fuck is wrong with everyone it's sexual harassment. and I like Lwaxana but CHILL THE FUCK OUT HE'S SCARED OF YOU AND HE'S MADE OF LIQUID LATEX SHIT. seriously felt for Odo but it's still an entertaining episode
Dramatis Personae: actually a pretty good episode, everyone goes batshit except for Odo, and Quark gets fucked up and it's like a film noir kinda thing complete with Odo making a log entry about how fucking stupid he thinks log entries are and then we never hear him make another one ever again, and I just really like Odo in these early seasons, he's so fucking badass here. also everyone goes BATSHIT, like for real, and it's really entertaining. I like this one. wait was the log entry thing this episode? I think so. maybe not though. either way, good episode
Duet: you've probably seen this but it's one of the best episodes of trek ever so just fucking watch it, it's gonna make you cry probably maybe but goddamn the performances here and the writing and the EVERYTHING, it's all so good
In The Hand of the Prophets: fuck Vedek Winn. holy shit can you even imagine if Pulaski and Winn got together and just hated shit in general together for like an hour? just let the Dominion win, fuck it
If this is somehow useful or entertaining to anyone, I wrote up all the seasons while super hammered, so I can post those too if anyone's interested! My IRL friends seem to be enjoying them.
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2015.02.20 20:08 tabledresser [Table] IAmA: I am Craig Robinson. AMA!

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Date: 2015-02-20
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What is the best burger you have ever eaten? What is your favorite beer? Oh, hamburger...gosh, what's the place? It's a place in... not Iowa...just outside of Columbia, Missouri, there's a place with a burger - I can't remember the place - but the burger was insane. I can almost taste it right now, and this was like, 7 years ago! It was pretty incredible. I just probably got plain lettuce, tomato, and ketchup, and cheese but WOOO! It was insane! And the bread - oh, dear God, the bread...
Favorite beer, right now, is Kronenberg.
Craig, who do you think is going to end up winning the throne in Game of Thrones? Would you want to act in a serious drama like that? Also, you're kinda funny. Keep up the good work champ! Uh... I'm on the second season, so please don't spoil it for me.
Lannisters, is my hope! Because, first of all, I wish what'shisname would come back, the one they killed. But I mean, Lannisters just seem so noble - wait, no, it's the Starks, yeah. That's what I meant.
I'm like, one episode into the second season. I'm really behind! I need to do some binge-ing!
And yes, I'd love to act in something like Game of Thrones. Absolutely.
Craig! Big fan of The Office and Pineapple Express. My question is how do you spend your typical day? Get up, go to the gym.
After driving past the gym, go get some breakfast.
Field some emails and phone calls.
Go back to the gym, and say "I'm doing it this time."
Get distracted, remember an appointment, go to said appointment, get some lunch.
Wallow in pity about not going to the gym.
In the evening, I will probably prepare for tomorrow. Focus on going to the gym the next day.
What do you miss most about playing Darryl and being a part of The Office? I'd imagine it was very emotional while shooting the finale. Hope you enjoy HOT TUB. Darryl, I miss Darryl and everythin' about playing him. It was the character that pretty much introduced me to the world. So yea, it was very emotional, and just the fun of being entertained on-set everyday by those caliber actors, and being counted as one, was awesome.
I loved you in This Is the End as well! You're hilarious. Can't wait to see more of you, especially Mr. Robinson! But I am headed into a new venture with NBC called "Mr. Robinson," so Darryl has propelled me to that height.
How did you first transition from being a music educator to being an actor? Very carefully.
I took my time. I was cultivating my craft, and then I got an opportunity by way of a development deal where I was able to leave teaching and come to LA and develop some more and figure out how to get into the game.
What was the funniest moment you've had working on any movie? Saying hi all the way from Iqaluit, Nunavut! That's incredibly awesome.
Funniest moment of any movie was probably THIS IS THE END, when Danny McBride took the gun out of his mouth and said "That's what I thought," we couldn't keep it together. Nope.
You play an exaggerated version of yourself in This is the End. What parts of your actual personality did you want to make sure came through in the performance? What was it like adding fictionalized personality traits that might differ greatly from your actual self? Well, there's a part in there where I say I gouged a guy's eyeballs out? So that's not real, you know. That was weird. But the other stuff, you know - as far as the real stuff, I wanted to make sure I said "Take your panties off" in my song.
Hi Craig - when was the last time you had a chimichanga? About 7 years ago, 8 years ago, 10 years ago.
10 years ago.
WAITWAITWAIT WAIT - they served them on THE OFFICE from time-to-time, so I bet about 3 years ago.
So Craig, what was the first joke you ever told on stage? How did it go? I said "Jesus musta been black, and had an Afro, because where else did he hide all that fish and bread?"
It didn't go that well.
What happened in Cincinatti and what's in the shoebox in the closet? Now, you know there's no way I can answer that.
Hehe!
Let's make HOT TUB TIME MACHINE 3 happenin' and then we can answer those questions.
Hi Craig, do you have any childhood pets you would like to fondly reminisce about? GIDGET! I had a cat named Gidget, who was awesome, and I miss, and you know, we had her for a few years. That was my li'l homie. She was gray.
How much fun was doing the PG porn? Oh, we had a great time! James Gunn, you know, I didn't know what I was in for, but we were crackin' up the whole day.
Hey dude, much love. What was it like being a comedian at Sasquatch? Any cool stories from the experience? Sasquatch was great! It was pretty legendary, actually.
And I ended up hanging out with Hannibal Buress, so there was a bonus.
Was that close to how you looked when you were younger in real life when you looked in the mirror in HTTM 1? I did have a hi-top fade like that, in college. So if I can find one of those pictures, I'll post 'em, but yes. But I wasn't as handsome as that dude.
What are your favorite soul records? The list is too long. But how 'bout we go with "Fantasy" by Earth Wind & Fire. And then Marvin Gaye, "I want you."
Craig, Huge fan of your work. I especially loved This is the End. How hard was it to keep a straight face with so many hilarious people in the cast? Who was the person that made people break the most during takes? It was next-to-impossible to keep a straight face, but at some point, you realize it's what you're paid to do. And Danny McBride was the one who cracked everybody up the most.
CRAIG!! I feel like there has to be a good story behind the name “ The Nasty Delicious” . How did it come about? "The Nasty Delicious" is... the "nasty" is for funky. And the "delicious" is just cuz they play so good. Yeah. I wish there was a better story, haha!
Mr. Robinson, do you watch Game of Thrones? If so who is your favorite house/characters? Yes. Starks. And it's so hard to choose a favorite character. But I like little-girl-Stark, with her sword-thing.
If you were to be any superhero in any movie, who would you play? Hmmm.
Booty Man.
Hehehe!
Take Yo' Panties Off Man.
He can make panties drop in a single song!
NICE! WAY TO GO!
As a current Illinois State student I was just wondering what your favorite thing was about college or this school in particular? Lemme see... favorite thing about college would be the - it's like a fantasy world, there you go, where you have some responsibility, but really not.
Craig, what is your favorite pokemon and why? I expect a well thought out answer containing 500 words or less. Also will you write me a letter of recommendation for medical school. Ty. Pikachu. Cuz it's the only one that I know.
And absolutely! If you do some medical work for me. And then I will see how you do. It would be an honest recommendation.
Do you have any plans of doing a stand up special? Ive been a big fan since office, and loved finding some of your old stand up stuff. There's some preliminary chatter about it right now. But I'm focused on the live shows, and this new sitcom, Mr. Robinson, on NBC.
Who is your best smelling co-star of all time? HMMM.
Hmm-hmm!
Kerry Washington. She smells like rainbows and sunshine.
Hey Craig, want to kick it in Madison, WI? Whadyou mean, would I like to? I have kicked it there, and it's awesome!
I saw you driving down Venice Blvd. in your black Camaro. You were going the opposite direction as me and we were both stopped. I looked at you and gave a little wave and you just ignored it. My question is, what's your favorite breakfast cereal and why? BWAHAHA!
If I ignored it, it means I clearly didn't see you. I'm not an ignorerer.
Favorite breakfast cereal? Lemme see, hmm. Can I say oatmeal? I'm just gonna go with oatmeal.
Love you in This is the End. What does Emma Watson smell like? Hehe! I don't recall? Hehehe! But I can tell you she is super-sweet, and super-fun.
Do you think you would be responsible enough to have a Gremlin as a pet? How badly would this end? What I am trying to say is you should be in a Gremlins remake. I would love to be in a GREMLINS remake. And I actually own 3 Gremlins. I have no idea where they are now.
Do you prefer waffles? Or are you a pancake kinda man? HMMM.
Waffles. Pancakes fill me up, so fast.
Craig... When was the sweatiest you've ever been and how sweaty was it? Like in terms of liters of sweat and what brought it on? Um...probably 100 liters? And I had lied to my father, and I was awaiting punishment.
What was the punishment? A beatdown. Is that too sad to say? It was a different time.
Are you going to be joining us at Bonnaroo again this year?! I hope so! I'm not on the schedule, but I hope to at least partake in it.
Favorite place to eat in Los Angeles? BEST BLUE CRAB HANDROLLS IN THE CITY.
Who can handle your midriff? Um...
There's only a few. And they are chosen.
Whats the 1 role/movie that got away? or a career role? The 40 Year Old Virgin, the manager.
What is Dwight like off set? Focused. Focused, with a wicked sense of humor.
Just wondering, is there such a thing a free titties? No. Not at all. Not even if you have beads, in some cases.
Last updated: 2015-02-24 13:12 UTC
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2013.08.06 03:58 tabledresser [Table] IamA Pirate Reenactor and Educator, building a Pirate Ship, AMA!

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Date: 2013-08-05
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What is your opinion on Alestorm? Very fun music. Good live shows.
Can is ask if there is a lot of period specification about being a Pirate and what the most annoying misconception about pirates are? I'm a late imperial roman reenactor and there is a knee jerk reaction to say anything that isnt hollywood typical is non roman. Do you get the same reaction with any of your kit? Most annoying misconceptions are bucket boots and saying "ARRR!" There is very limited evidence for sailors to have boots like those made popular by Hollywood, and a lot of evidence of pirates going barefoot or wearing the same buckled shoes as everyone else did. ARRR was made popular by the 50's film of Treasure Island starring a drunk from Wales. That's how Robert Newton spoke, but everyone liked it so much they started mimicking him in the sequel and the TV shows that followed.
Robert Newton was from Dorset in England. He had a thick West Country accent, which is the basis for the stereotypical pirate accent. I learned something new today. I had always heard he was from Wales.
Drunks from Wales!?! Tall tales I tell ya... Sad, but true.
Sounds brilliant! is there any clear evolution/development of Pirate gear through the age? If you had to put one piece of kit up at your desk to show off what would it be? Yes. What was being worn in 1650 is pretty different than what was worn by 1725. Especially for the English, as they were known to wear trousers. I'd show off with my blunderbuss, because it impresses the lubbers.
Oh, also sailors developed shorter waistcoats than lubbers.
So we're paying for your private yacht? Why? Not exactly. I am looking for people to pledge so that a pirate ship can be built and then used for educational programming. As for the "why", because it is a cool project with good rewards. Don't care about the project or rewards? Don't pledge.
Oh my gosh the project pledge rewards are like treasure in and of themselves. I'm dying to crew for a week!!! Thankee. I think we have some fun rewards for pledges. Toss down the loot, and once we finish building come out for a cruise!
Step 1: Become pirate. Step 2: Free drinks. Step 3: Profit? Still waiting on Step 3 here. But the drinks are nice.
You pretty much have my dream job. What's the most difficult part of your job, or something that you have to deal with that you didn't think would be part of the "life of a pirate"? The "worst" part of my job is having people scream "ARRR" at me all the time. It really gets annoying quickly. That and when people shout "the British" are coming". That being said, those people for the most part see someone who enjoys life and what they are doing and in a strange way are usually trying to join in the fun.
Second worse is sailing in really bad weather while wearing historical gear. The wet pirate smell is pretty funky.
The historical garb looks so good! I like the way people dressed back then. Anyway,I wish you the best in the project. it sounds like a lot of fun. Thankee. BTW- a good vendor for some kit is: Link to jas-townsend.com Check out their slops. Osnaburg and checked shirts are what most sailors would have.
So.. you dont punctuate your sentences with Arrr? I'll admit to the random druncken "ARRR", but generally no. I speak the Queen's when on duty.
Edit: what about things like "me hearties"? I don't use "me hearties", but I do call my ship mates mates from time to time. And I definitely call lubbers lubbers.
Thank you. I used to be in the SCA and actually have some garb. Nice. I play with the SCA and LHA from time to time. Always fun getting together with friends to exchange bruises.
It was fun,but after 13 years,we got tired of it and no longer are involved. I hear you. I have played with them for about 20 years, and have never gotten involved with drama or politics, so I still have fun at the ocassonal practice or war weekend.
What compromises will have to be made with the new ship to comply with modern day OH&S regulations? Will this pirate ship be dotted with bright orange life preservers all over the deck and enough life rafts for all crew and guests? We will need to have a working head, engine and prop, modern helm, etc. Our life preservers will be kept in wooden deck boxes, so out of sight. We will be mostly staying near coastal, so life boats are optional. For longer voyages we will need to put them on though. Other things on deck will be fire extinguishers, signs. Happily, a lot of modern gear can be camouflaged.
How do you feel about modern day piracy? Both online and in foreign seas. Online piracy I think is one of the dumbest things governments have ever tried to persecute. But, money is being lost, so someone needs to be made an example of. As for sea pirates today, they are doing it for the same reasons that pirates have always done it: there is too much money to be made doing it to resist, and not very good alternatives. Generally speaking pirates are working class people and always have been. For example Somalia has no infrastructure and their fishing waters have been decimated. They can pirate or starve.
Thank you :) what about headgear? Helmets have alwasy been my fetish for ancients, did the Pirates only ever wear soft caps (makes sense) or was there any form of armor used? Also have you ever seent he deadliest warrior pirate vs knight episode? what was your opinion on it? I have seen examples of boarding helmets that were thick leather caps. That is about the only armor for pirates I know of. Some Spanish were still wearing breast plates though, but I wouldn't dream of it on a boat. I did see that episode, and I call shenanigans. They used a bunch of pseudo science for no good reason as far as I can tell. The truth of the matter is that the winner is the bigger bastard. There is no definite "such and such would do it this way", because soldiers, warriors, fighters, what have you do not always follow a set path of action. They adapt or die.
It's hard to keep wit dry on a pirate ship. The dude is trying to help educate youngins on history, give him a break... or are you still pissy about the Gaspee and those barbarous colonies? Yeah! Someone else heard of Gaspee! We actually celebrate that here in Rhode Island EVERY YEAR!
What's the role of women in the world of pirates back in the day? If a woman wanted to join your project/ your ship crew, do they have to dress as a man? Back in the day there is some evidence of women as active crew. More usually, women that associated with sea rovers were of negotiable virtue. Women will be able to join as crew, and we have some fine ones already active within our group. Yes, crew dress as men. Flouncy skirts and rigging don't mix, and generally you don't want to go aloft nd show everyone your knickers.
Well hello there! We know each other, and I just wanted to say that I'm so proud of what you've accomplished! <3 LL. My only question is: what is the most awesome part of your job? The most awesome part of my job? Waking up in a hammock knowing that I'll get the opportunity to spend my day sailing, singing, talking, firing guns, and working with some of the best people I have ever met.
Or, travelling to new ports, meeting new friends, and enjoying fellowship with other reenactors from all over.
How did you get into this? How does someone like me get started into something like this. I've been wanting to do this myself, even when people try to tell me there's no such thing as a "black pirate". I've had little experience with this when I worked at Renaissance Faires, but I was quiet back then so I didn't talk much. Which fictional series (movie, book, tv) do you think has best represented the pirate culture? Are you in New England? We are always looking for new crew. If not, then I'd start with a google search of "pirate living history" and the name of the state you are in. I started my own group, because I'm obstinate, but there are times I wish I had joined another living history group before I started on my own. It would have saved a few stumbles. As for "No such thing as a black pirate", those people are WRONG! During the Golden Age of Piracy it was common for crews in the New world to be up to 30% black. And those men were treated as equals, getting an equal share and a vote in what happened on the boat (pirate ships ran as democracies). Edit: Slave owners were often terrified of pirates, not because of them attacking, but because they were known to happily accept runaway slaves as members of their crews. This is not to say all pirates were anti-slave. Henry Every was known throughout the Gold Coast as someone to trick blacks into coming aboard so he could then sell them. But a higher percentage of European pirates than land dwelling Europeans seemed to condemn the practice.
The best fictional series that I know of to portray pirate life: the newest Treasure Island starring Eddie Izzard is pretty good, but Hollywood has never been able to due justice to these men.
I wish. I reside in Central Florida at the moment. Any books you recommend reading? Johnson's General History of Pirates is a good start, but please bear in mind a lot of his stories are changed to have moral endings and sell books 300 years ago. Republic of Pirates by Woodard is a fun read. And Exqumelin's The Buccaneers of North America is good primary source documentation.
What are your feelings towards King George III? I never met the man, but I bear him no ill. He was no Queen Ann, who I hold in high regard, I'll tell you that much.
Awh, does that mean we won't see your crew at the burning of the Gaspee next year? I hope we'll be there. I love that event! *edit: this was the first year in 5 we, as a group, didn't participate. I was still there for a good part of Saturday. Love Gaspee.
Did you know that the Tampa Bay Buccaneers (NFL team) have a pirate ship INSIDE THEIR STADIUM?!?!?! Sounds cool. Can you get me in touch with their PR people? :D.
Who is your favorite pirate, and why is it Thomas Paine? My favorite pirate, if I were to have one, would probably be "Black Bart" Roberts. Very impressive track record of 400 vessels taken in three years.
I do like Paine, mostly because he has the longest career (spanning roughly 40 years), then he retired and married into a good family (governor's daughter).
Holy shit Bart musta been busy. He used good tactics as well. My favorite was when he captured a Dutch slave ship, asked (at gunpoint) where they did their shady deals and what signals where used to tell others "shady deals here", then used those signals to lure in shady slave traders looking to buy into a trap.
That's awesome, you never think tactician when you think pirate. Have you looked into the oriental pirates at all? I saw a picture of a Chinese ship that was like four times the size of a British navy ship. I have looked into Chinese a little, but mostly to look up Mrs. Chang. She was AWESOME! For the most part though my research is on colonial American Pirates.
What can people expect from an experience on your ship once it's built? Once we are finished with construction and running our season passengers of regularly scheduled tours will get to enjoy cruises where they learn about pirate history, hear sea shanties sung by the crew, get to help raise sails and take a turn at the helm, see black powder flintlocks fired, and enjoy some time out on the water. People who charter the Defiance will have the option to do the same, or enjoy their time with us however they would like. School groups will have all the options of a normal cruise, and we'll work with teachers to incorporate their experiences with what is going on in the classroom. Oh, and as long as we can swing it we'll also have overnight guests.
The overnight thing was going to be my next question. Will people be able to hire the ship and crew for their own event? And if so, for how long... and how many people can you accommodate? Ok, overnight is going to be subject to getting the US Coast Guard to do overnight guests. We'll have 13 bunks onboard, 3 of which will be for crew, so 10 guests can stay over at a time. People will be able to charter Defiance for private events, like wedding, etc. And really, they can do it for an hour to a whole day, to however much they want to pay for. We should be a 45-49 passenger rated vessel once completed.
What type of ship are you trying to build? We are building a "pinky" schooner. It's called that because of the pinched aft. these vessels developed in New England after the old Chebacco fishing boats.
Are going with the schooner because of being in New England, or is it your favorite? Mostly because it is very New England. My favorite vessel is actually the brigantine. I have been sailing on one for the last few years and they are really fun! But the pinky schooner is as RI as the quahog.
What would you do if I showed up in my Pirate Hunter shirt and gear from my time in Africa? Depends where I saw you. At the pub I'd wonder how you got by the doorman, on the boat I'd ask if you knew that we were reenactors.
What would you say are the minimum requirements for a pirate costume? Minimum: Sailor's slops, osnaburg shirt, neckerchief.
a well worn axe! I love my boarding axe. And my broad axes. And my tomahawks. ;) BTW- good call on knowing the most popular weapon of the age.
How often is the phrase "poop deck" put to good use in your line of work? There is a lot of jokes about the poop deck. But you'd actually do your business off the bow, or the head, of the vessel. Poop deck just refers to the highest deck over the aft cabin.
What have you learned about pirates that's surprised you the most? The broad range of who they were. For example, Edward Teach (Thatch), AKA Blackbeard was a large and imposing figure with a very rough reputation. This was carefully cultivated to make his job easier. However, accounts from people taken by Blackbeard mostly say that they were treated well by him, and he kept his men from harming them too. Meanwhile, people like Charles Vain also had reputations for violence. And this is because he was a sadist, and liked to hurt people.
Have you ever thought about formatting the buccaneer language into a translator app so's we can all talk pirate properly? I mean talk into a phone or computer and our words would be translated into pirate. Nope. I am technologically impaired. :)
Also, sailors talk like everyone else, except they have terms that many people don't know what they mean. For instance, If I asked you to tack the outer jib to port and meet me at the binnacle so we could set the spanker because someone crossed our hawse, most people would have no idea what I meant.
They will when you make the app! Just sounds like a fun way to maybe raise a little extra money for you guys if you could swing it... I'll toss the idea at a few of my more technology minded crew. I'm muddled at a lot past 1800.
Are you in need of a Captain? I'll settle for nothing less. Actually, yes. Do you have your 100 ton license?
Psh, I'm a pirate... Who needs a license Coast Guard, and they outnumber us. ;p.
But I'm Captain Jack, mate. In that case I shall allow you to parlay with the Coast Guard. Good luck. God speed. :) I'm sure it will work out very well.
I knew you'd warm up to me. Now, we'll need a crew, and I'm granting you title of commodore. I'll need a big hat. No feather though. They get too chewed up in the Block and tackles.
Best I can do with the resources at hand... I'll accept that!
Sid mier's pirates? Probably now very accurate considering on the hardest difficulty cutlasses were useless. For better accuracy you should have gone over the rail with an axe. Swords were damned expensive back in the day.
Never thought of that, come to think of it no one in that game looked poor or dirty at all. I have some kit that is more patches than original by now. Work clothes get worn down quick in the sea air, with plenty to catch on.
bullet holes. And people trying to stab you with pikes, swords, and knives. Not to mention axes chopping at you. Then there's powder burns, and the blood and powder residue getting rubbed into the material.This is why every Wednesday should be a "make and mend" day.
How can I become as cool as you? Hard work, practice, remember to laugh often and love hard.
I used to enjoy the old simulation game Pirates. If you've played it, how accurate is it? I have. It is ok as far as fun, and what cannons can do to another vessel, but story is Hollywood inspired, and it doesn't really let you get the feel of how wind and sail interact. You can get way too into the wind.
I remember it was a pain to sail against the wind, so reality is even worse? I know that ships can move forward against the wind. It was a pain in the game, but yes: in reality it is worse. Especially on a square rigger. Fore and aft rigged vessels can get a bit more into the wind, but not much past 70 degrees.
Is your mortal enemy, a ninja? No. I have some very good friends who are ninja. My mortal enemy is a bar tender with my tab.
No wenches? There are wenches in this world, and I have loved too few.
Do you watch One Piece? Can't say that I do. I watch very little TV, and tend to be way behind on popular culture. I actually just finished Battlestar Galactica for the first time.
In your honest opinion, who do you think would win in a fight, pirates or ninjas? Depends on the ninja and the pirates in question. Much like the Knight verses Pirate question earlier, there is no easy answer to this.
Lets say that the ninjas in question were sent from the emporer to assassinate black bart and his crew. I'd get a tub of popcorn and watch that.
Is it equal numbers, 1 pirate per ninja? Is this on the land or the water? Are the pirates taken unawares, or do they see the ninjas on the approaching vessel? Who is and isn't drunk on both sides (I've seen ninjas drink, no denying they are sloppy drunks). Very complex question.
What was your biggest pirate mix-up? Not quiet sure what you mean, but I'll take it you mean mistake. In which case I'd say going onto a human gyroscope ride but forgetting that I had a knife in my belt (all good sailors carry knives). After a few minutes of whirling about the knife came out of its sheath and smacked me dead in the eye. Luckily, handle first. I needed to wear an eye patch for about a week.
What is your favorite pirate movie? Hard to say. I like the first Pirates of the Caribbean, but hate all the others. I also am a fan of Capt. Blood.
Have you ever had sex on a pirate ship? Was there a talking parrot in the room. Yes and no, in that order.
I was told there would be rum. There is usually rum. And beer. And sometimes wine. And whatever else we can get our hands on. It is actually kind of surprising the amount of free drinks pirates get at bars.
I would think the free drinks would either be obtained because the bartender was afraid of getting hurt or robbed or looked up to the life of a pirate and wished to be one. It is often the other patrons who buy. You get talking, and they ask questions, then buy drinks. Or you can just sing some shanties and next thing you know others are buying you drinks.
Such a great question! People always think the pirate life looks so swashbunklingly easy. There is a lot of fun in my work. I get to sail, talk to people from around the world about a subject I love, play with swords and guns in public, and as mentioned elsewhere often get free drinks in bars.
On the other hand, I've been stabbed while giving sword demos, rained on, bumped, bruised, and had many obnoxious people come into my life, even if briefly.
In all, I'll keep doing it.
No direct link yet (it exists but there is nothing in it just yet. Though keep an eye out for "Raging Romans". I have a HEAP of episodes penned which are about to be animated but if you had any questions no matter how silly -ask them. Like you I love answering what I can. Very good. Looking forward to it. I like some Roman history, but I usually root for whomever they are attacking. I love Terry Jones' Barbarians series. On Youtube if you have not seen.
You awesomely crashed my friends' wedding a few years back. don't have a question, just saying.. but if you want to talk about it, thats ool too. HAH! Where did we do this? Newport? Rockport? I have crashed several wedding I am semi-proud to say. I hope they didn't mind. Most don't.
No, I believe this was welcomed; it was Laura and Zeppo's (I hope that's not too identifying for the GP) Yep. That was fun. We also had a sword fight at Jason and Kim's. :)
Oh damn, I missed it! Kinda. As I said in my edit, I'll still answer as I can.
Yeah, you might be if you are using an alternate or another account to push your ama through as this is 13 minutes old and has been used primarily for this ama. Sorry, joysiren isn't me. Keep trolling though. You could go pro.
Pirates murder people. Yes, pirates murder people. A lot of people murder people.
Why should people give you money? You should pledge to the Kickstarter for cool rewards, and to help fund educational programming if that is what you're into.
You are crazy. I've been called worse.
No I normally only fund people with a sense of humour. I have a great sense of humor.
Last updated: 2013-08-09 20:02 UTC
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