#BRONX film complet

[trashlama]

YAN!FUTURE!DONNIE X READER!!

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Heeeeeeyyyyy guess whose back!

This is a part of I guess this series of one shots I got going on. →This post can explain more←

This is the image I used for Donnie in this one. ↓

Art isn't mine but the design is radical!

Sorry this took so long. Honestly I almost didn't post it cause I didn't like how it came out. Like I kept trying to fix it to how I like it buuutt, this was the best that I could do. I might try rewriting it or somethin'. I was just trying to change it up buuutt, I suck. Did my best with the proof reading. Probably could have tried to proof read it more.

Honestly this fic is pretty dark. Originally was darker.

Please no minors, 18+ only!(There's no smut or anything sexual, just a lot of technically triggering elements)

The meme in this fic is not mine I just found them on Pinterest and they were too good.

Read the creator's notes below for more!

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Humming computer fans and diligent typing filled the silent void in the poorly lit room. If not for the obscured ominous glow of the various monitors littering the labatory you would've believed you had gone completely blind. Having already lost the vision on your right to the slimy pink tentacle bastards who transformed your planet into the living Hell on Earth.

Guess religion was right about something. At The End of Days the devil came for the damned. And in spite of your mother's faithful beliefs, there was never a savior to come swop away the righteous to the selective pearly gates of the Heaven she had mindlessly prayed to. She was wrong. Her savior locked her out.

There would be no salvation. Not for anyone.

Instead for the first thirteen years after the Krrang's invasion you suffered. Everyone suffered.

Shit hit the fan and it splattered like a chocolate pie in bad clown gag.

Overnight the world you had grown up in changed for the worse. Blind to the way society crumbled and turned into a Mad Max film. Unaware of the great loss. Naive and young you weren't prepared for the grotesque violence that replaced your boring mundane life that you had taken for granted.

How you wish there was a way to go back.

Return to days where your only worries were filling out job applications to move out of your mother's abode and getting into a good college. Begging whatever deities listened to accept you to one of the variety of schools you had applied for. Preferably one more than five hundred miles away from the run-down neighborhood in the Bronx you lived in. You've always wanted to travel the country and college opened up that opportunity to do so. Had everything gone according to plan you would've started your first semester that following fall.

Though it wasn't meant to be. Instead you spent that lonely winter, grieving

" (Y/n) "

At the call of your name the chain that hung from around your neck clanked as a single (e/c) orb snapped out of its routine day-dreams to look towards the owner of the tired deep voice that had called to you. It was Donatello. Said ninja turtle kneeling at your side next to the cot you both shared.

Within the nest of sheets you retracted from the curled position you had been laying in on top of the bed spread. A multi-paterned stitched quilt gifted by one of the softshell turtle's brothers— you forget who; rested at your feet, unused. Protecting thin (skin tone) skin from the piercing cold was a worn pair of faded PJs that consisted of a dark green long sleeve with fluffy grey plaid bottoms. The odd attire didn't bother you in the slightest. When living in the apocalypse fashion hardly matters. If it was usable it was wearable.

Despite of your efforts to block the aged mutant out by focusing your lone (e/c) gaze on soothing else. The Large cold hand of Donatello's petting the top of your head was all your traumatized receptors could focus on. Three lengthy jade digits combing rouge strands of unkept (h/l) (h/c) hair away from their position in your face. Wandering fingertips skimmed over your missing right eye. Playing with the white medical eye patch that kept the old wound hidden. Had this been seven months ago you would've already been trying to bite the technological General's scared appendage off. Though now at this point you just let the mutant do whatever. You didn't care.

The same regard was held when the purple clad turtle observed you. Anything and everything that flashed across your face was cataloged by your analyzing capter's dark narrowed stare. A common occurrence that never faltered in its repetitiveness.

Exhaustion dominated the aged jade complexion of Donatello's. His expression would be read bored if not for the controlled obsession that lurked in pools of night.

You always did like his eyes. Even when they were hidden behind the dual frames perched on his snout. One half a traditional prescription lens the other a crimson infrared optic that provided extra assistance to the current wearer. Like a moth to the flame you were drawn to the night sky he held in those dark pools.

"You're wasting the food Mikey brought you" the softshell flatly chastised. Those same magnetic dark eyes that had been locked with yours turned away momentarily to retrieve something from beside him. The tattered greyish purple cloak he wore tied loosely around his sturdy shoulders draped forward revealing the silver cybertronic mechanical substitute for his left arm. A necessary loss for the cause he dutifully worked for.

You hadn't respond to his comment.

For a moment you began to sink back into your land of memories if it had not been for the scrapping metal of the fork against the plate that was now in the purple bandana wearing turtle's grasp. Stabbing at the rations that the commissary passed out earlier that day. At least you're assuming it's day. It's hard to tell when you never leave the underground base, let alone the prison of Donatello's lab that doubled as his quarters.

Back in reality something moist pressed against your bottom lip.

"Eat."

Robotically you obeyed.

You learned a long time ago that starving doesn't work. It was this or the feeding tub. At least this didn't hurt your throat. The ache in your esophagus from the experience lasted for weeks after. Bile threatening to rise if you focused any longer on the nightmarish memory.

Up till the plate was cleared the mutant continued to feed you. Picking at the dish's portions until there was nothing left. After which the adult ninja turtle placed the cutlery to the side before taking a corner of his faded cloak to wipe away the food residue left around your mouth. Repeating the same method with the plastic cup that sat precariously on the table to the other side of you next to the cement wall.

For a moment his calculative narrowed gaze stared at you before deciding something.

"...I have to go work on the faulty pump in the filter for the hydroponic system in the Agriculture Unit later...." Thick brows frowed together in an unsure manner upon his purple-clad forehead as he continued. ".....would you be interested in joining me for the endeavor?" The aged ninja finally prompted.

You didn't respond.

Had this been seven months ago you would've replied with an immediate yes. Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Back then you would've thought somebody, anybody, would help you.

But if that were the case you would've been free already.

It wasn't necessarily a secret that you belonged to the purple bandana wearing brainiac. On the contrary it was a well known fact amongst the inhabitants of the base. It was just an unspoken topic. An issue that the Commander and the rest of the generals much rather sweep under the rug than to confront.

You learned it the hard way.

You had managed to get away somehow after Donatello first claimed you. Before the chained leash that pooled around you became a permanent fixture. In its place there had been a small amount of leeway the softshell gifted you. A fragile trust you didn't bother to strengthen prior to your attempt two months into your captivity. Maybe things would've been different.

You had told Donnie you were just gonna go to the commissary and get them some lunch. Claimed you were trying to be a nice, good partner. You didn't want to disturb the important work you were so proud of him for. Like a termite at Home Depo he ate it up. A bashful smile stretched across his jade complexion that was burnt red.

Playing the serpent who tricked Adam, you slithered from the technological garden of paradise. Departing with a false display of affection. Pride filled you from the phenomenal performance you gave.

Taking flight to the wind you ran down the Resistance headquarters hallways. Without meaning too you lost yourself around the twist and turns of unfamiliar corridors. Your limited vision and even less knowledge of the section's layout not being of much aid to your mission. Especially since prior to your imprisonment you hadn't ventured to this area since it was restricted to Resistance officers way above your ranking.

Though your plan was to run into someone. Anyone who could help you. You were gonna rat out that purple techno creep. He needed to pay. You were fed up with this stupid apocalypse.

Eventually after sprinting down the halls for God knows how long. You found your self face first into the plastron of General Michelangelo.

"Wwhooo! Slow down little missy! You're gonna give this old man a scare!" The greying box turtle joked even though you weren't very much younger than him. Catching your charging figure easily between rough moss palms. Out of breath you began spewing your story. Begging the mystic mutant to help you get away from his crazy purple coded brother.

"Oooohh, so yoouurr (Y/n)..." The youngest general gathered. Aged face scrunching up in a contemplative way, as if he was thinking. For a moment you had thought maybe the mutant turtle knew who you were cause somebody had reported your missing presence. Realized that you had been stolen by one of the very leaders they worked under. Unfortunately that was not the case.

"Yes! I'm (Y/n)! Your brother Donatello, he—"

"Said that if you got lost to return you to him!~"

What.

It was too late to retreat. You didn't even have the chance to react before the orange clad General had you on the ground. Wind punched from your lungs by the sudden force. Mouth mimicking a fish out of water as you gasped for much needed air. Next thing you knew your hands were bound behind your back by the same orange bandana wearing mutant you sought aid from. Kicking and screaming as the moss green Hamato sibling dragged you back to where you had started.

Entering the lab Michaelangelo greeted his flabbergasted older brother. Sporting a wide cheshire grin as he released his grip on you to only then in the same motion push your unbalanced wobbly stature forward caching yourself on Donatello's chest. Leaving shortly after with some sort of fucked up quip you couldn't hear past the pounding in your ears. Heart jackhammering painfully against your ribs. The beat too powerful for any other sound to break it's dominating rythem.

Were you about to have a heart attack?A stroke? You couldn't tell. You didn't think people your age had them.

Once left alone the white hot fury you had expected never came. No beating. Nor any dismemberment of a limb. There were no threats made for your dire transgression. No shouts or screams of possessive anger. Only unnerving still silence.

Somehow that was worse.

You lied. You tried to leave. You made a scene with his younger brother only for said orange clad sibling to drag you back like the dog who got out.

The first ten–fifteen minutes you both just stood there. There were no excuses nor pleading from your part. Just utter overwhelming suffocating quite. The jade and purple tattooed complexion of the General's who stood before you was drained to match snow. Face displaying a composed, conserved expression to anyone who was looking in from the outside.

Unfortunately for you it was always Donatello's dark eyes that gave everything away.

Hurt. He was undeniably wounded by the injury. You broke the thin veil of trust he gave you. You could have done whatever you wanted. As long as you didn't stray far from him. Stayed and supported him. It was all he wanted.

The softshell was so happy when you forged that lie believing the act to be true. Believing that you cared about his health and work. Being kind and supportive enough to trek and retrieve both of your guys' lunch. Except upon his younger mutant brother's arrival the fantasy he was living in was broken. It was all a lie. You deceived him. Betrayed the tempered trust that two of you shared. A thin string you willing snipped.

Saltwater streaks poured down in silent bunches as the aged ninja turtle lowered his head. He really thought you had loved him as you whispered sweet claims from soft deceiving lips that kissed his heated cheek a farewell. Departing with that smile that made his heart race. Donatello was hurt. And so the turtle did the only thing that would hurt you just as much as you had hurt him.

Had you known what he was going to do maybe you would've fought harder than you had.

No words were exchanged as the mutant scientist tied your jittery limbs to your paralyzed figure. Plastic white ties zipped painfully tight around (skinned tone) appendages. Though fear hadn't taken it's full course until the softshell began to secure a thick fabric around your head, blinding you. Finding the immediate endless world of black frightening.

"Please— don't do this— I-I'm sorry!" You plead as large cold hands slide a set of what you assume are noise canceling buds into your ears. You couldn't catch your breath. Your heart wouldn't still itself as it fought for space within your ribcage. "Please! I— mphmfh!"was all you could cry before lastly a gag was stuffed into your teriffied jaws. Based on the texture of the rough fabric you deduced it was most likely an old gym sock from the clothing bin. The worn garment scratched at the roof of your mouth making you taste cooper.

Donnatello hadn't planned to use this method this early on but, this was a lesson that needed to be learned. He was going to deprive you of your senses. Leave you lost just as he would've been without you. Maybe then you'd understand.

For some time you were just scared shitless. Frightful of the purple coded general's unknown intentions. Was he gonna torture you? Kill you and keep the body? The imaginary list was much more scary than the actual first quarter of the punishment . Thankfully nothing happened. The turtle left you be. Probably just watching you from his typical spinny chair from in front of the large monitor dominating the room. The motherfucker probably felt like Batman or some shit sipping on his coffee as you the Joker— fucked around in the holding tube.

When the endless darkness started to pick at your already aggravated anxiety you had tried to force yourself asleep to escape the void. However you found the effort quickly fruitless. Trapped without sound or any background stimulation aside from the limited range of touch at your disposal made the task feel impossible. Dissolving lines between real and what was not becoming harder to differentiate with every passing unknown second.

Attempts to keep your sanity felt futile in spite of efforts to keep the screws forming coming loose. Clawed (skin tone) palms and curling toes only did so much. When all else failed you felt only one thing could be done. You need to feel something. Anything. You couldn't do this anymore. The scratches in your palms did not suffice.

Doing what you felt was your only choice in your spiralling panic. You began to throw yourself around across the lab's tile floor. Using your upper body and knees you inch worm around the room. Purposely banging yourself into anything and everything so you may injure yourself. Feeding your starved receptors with whatever painful sensations you could produce.

Donatello was quick to remove the suppressors once you really started injuring yourself. Most likely calling it when the various wounds littered your (s/c) skin began to form. Following the path you had squirmed eyes like La Brea tar pits found speckles of crimson decorating a variety of the objects in his workspace. As if a baby crawled around repainting his lab with dots of red.

What a pain. Couldn't you have just accepted the punishment like an adult? Now he was gonna have to clean up this mess later. But alas just as many great minds of science had taught him. There was always a price to be paid for results. Maybe he should've just thrown you into solitary or made a modification or two to your Achilles tendons.... Next time.

Cold hands without delay discarded the ear buds and spit soaked sock. Your chest was still rising too fast. You were gonna puke if you stayed any longer in the dark. Though once the blind fold was discarded the softshell turtle's concerned expression was the first thing you saw. The sight of another instantly calming the bees stabbing your stomach lining. A flash of worry glimmered in those pools of ink. Only for the emotion to be consumed by the sticky black tar that lurked beneath.

"Did you learn your lesson?" The purple tattooed turtle questioned softly as he scooped your zip tied bound form into his mix matched arms. Combination of flesh and steel cradling you as he maneuvered towards his cot. Donatello was aware that you have one too but, recently the color coded general had been considereing just having you sleep with him. It'd save him space.

"I doubt it." he chided with a small grin that didn't match his eyes as he laid you down. Tucking you into his barely used sheets.

You didn't bother to request for him to remove the plastic bonds as exhaustion dragged you into the realm of slumber. Senses finally relaxing thanks to some stimulation. Allowing the phantom hand caresse the curve of your cheek as you drifted away.

When you awoke your injuries were bandaged and the plastic that had restrained you was gone. In the zip ties stead was a steel collar and chain hooped around the deadbolt installed in the cool tiled floor of the purple brainiac's lab. The same device you wore to this present day.

"(Y/n).... (Y/n)..."

"(Y/n)....."

"(Y/n)"

Oh no you got lost in your memories again didn't you? Based on the softshell's expression, your answer would be yes.

"(Y/n)... I think you should come with me when I go to the farming unit. I think it'd be good for you ....and maybe we'll even see Leon and Casey Jr. " Donnie soothed. His large cold hand returning at some point continued to comb the wild flyaways that tried to elude his threading jade fingers.

You didn't care. You bobbed your head. Listening but, not particularly agreeing nor disagreeing to anything as you went along with the general's wishes.

°°°°°°

In the hallway you and Donatello walked side by side. Your collar and chain were gone. Left behind in the lab due to the bondage being bolted to the floor. Not very mobile. Which in turn left you shackle free for the trip. Seven months ago you would've already tried to attack the turtle like the wild dog you were. You had been.

Now the tamed rescue, you leapt and barked without hesitation when commanded.

Like a good pup you didn't stray from your master's side.

Traversing through the base with the lumbering mutant was a quiet affair. No one bothered the two of you as the purple clad genuis led the way.

Here and there the technological general would make small talk by commenting about certain functions found throughout the headquarters along the short journey. Explaining uses of faculties and tech that had been constructed long before you ever stepped foot in the Resistance headquarters.

Long before you ever met the softshell who kept you prisoner in his room. Like a toy a spoiled child didn't want to share.

Pushing open the floppy doors to the Ag unit; bright UV rays burned your sensitive retinas that grew unconditioned to direct sunlight due to the dark room you were trapped in on a daily. Although unlike you, Donatello's dark narrowed stare remained unfazed by the bright light. Not even a stinge of discomfort upon disciplined matured features.

Artificial warmth even if false still felt soothing on your cold (skin tone) skin.

How you missed the real thing.

Missed the stupid picnics your mother would force you on. Laying under shady emerald trees in the smothering New York summer heat under a bright blue sky. Pouting as you watched your mother and brother played on the playground. You used to think those family outings were a waste of your time when you could be hanging with your friends or studying. Be anywhere but with them. How foolish you were.

A small frown laced your lips as you recalled the more peaceful days.

"(Y/n) this way" Donatello's voice called from in front of you. At some point having grabbed your hand to pull you closer to his tall stature as he escorted the two of you through the rows of growing produce. The tips of his long purple bandana tickled your nose but you made no complaints.

"Donnie over here!"

Onwards he directed you along.

Off in the near distance was the blue clad Commander. On his shelled back was a raven haired child that looked no more than nine.

"Oi! Casey Jr can you please be un bueno niño(a good little boy)!" The leader begged as the afro mentioned brown-eyed boy tugged at the long tied strands to his azure mask. Tighting the fabric painfully around his head. Giggling at his guardian's torment. "Nah! This is so much fun el anciano(old man) " Casey cheered, showing off a wide chipped tooth grin. A recent cosmetic development much to Leo's jargon.

Back and forth the two went as you and Donatello approached the comedic duo. The softshell grown a small grin on his normally uninterested expression.

" Thank Gram Gram you're here Donnie! The pump to the filter finally said capoot! And—"

"Yeah I know that's why I'm here." The jade colored turtle cut off his Commander.

Leonardo didn't mind his brother's injection. Smile still present upon olive skin.

"Alright-o dear brother-o! I'll leave you to it."

As the two siblings continued to chat over the needed maintenance, the raven haired boy leaning over the lumbering leader's shoulder stared straight at you. Eyes like teddy bear plushies bore into your being as they watched. Wide and impressionable. Brown judging spheres.

You could feel the bugs scuttling under your skin again.

"(Y/n)..., (Y/n) are you listening?"

Breaking from the losing staring competition you were having with the nine year old. Knowing dark eyes like night drew your attention back to the mutant who was cradling your hand between his own odd pair.

Once the scientist was sure he had all of you here he repeated his directions. " (Y/n) I want you to hangout out here for a little while I work. The pump requires more attention than I had initially thought..." Jade eyelids closed for a moment as the mutant exhaled his stored breath. " ...if you need me you can ask Leo. He had said he and Casey had some things to do here for a bit anyways so he doesn't mind watching you."

You didn't care. It was just nice being outside that damn lab in general.

With the nod of your head Donatello allowed your smaller hand free from his mix matched grasp. " I'll be back soon. If you get too hot tell Leo and he'll take you inside to cool down." The turtle further explained. It was like he wasn't sure if he could depart from you. Even if he was only temporarily leaving you under his twin's supervision. He still didn't like the idea of not having you beside him as he worked. However the space in the room with the filter was limited. Although Donnatello would prefer to have you in sight. Genius does take a little finesse and he always performed best with space.

With one more glance the softshell turtle turned and left. Walking towards the small building far off in the corner of the massive underground green house.

Once gone you were left standing there. Unmoving like a puppet without it's puppeteer.

You guess you stood there for too long cause at some point the Leonardo approached and rested his palm on your clothed shoulder. Probably making sure you're still there before his olive palm spirited away.

Hands very much like Donatello's. Too much like Donnie's. The touch made you shutter. You hated it. You hated the jade turtle who did this to you.

Based on the Commander's look you could tell he wanted to ask if you were good. Though the question would be pointless when the answer was as obvious as the dirt that coated the thin fabric of your eggshell colored slip-on flats.

"Sensei why is that weird girl that General Donnie brought only got one eye? Is she a pirate?" Casey Jr inquired not aware of the offensive statement he constructed.

The blue clad leader flicked his retainee's forehead. Lightly punishing the child as he chastised the raven haired boy for the rude question. "Casey Jr that's not how we talk about people. Especially ladies. If you have a question you ask them politely. " The retainer informed. Dark onyx eyes too similar to that of his brainac twin's slid back to your cemented figure.

You were waiting.

With an awkward grin Leo proposed that you join him and Casey Jr on their check up on the Agricultural workers. You didn't respond, just nodding to whatever the aged ninja turtle had suggested.

Around the large farming area that had to be as big, if not bigger than old New York City's Grand Central Station. The red eared slider led you and Casey Jr around as he performed leader duties. The task not being that tedious if it wasn't for the raven haired kinder who wouldn't leave you be. The orphan kept asking too many personal questions for your taste. None of which you responded too. Though that didn't mean it stopped the nine year old from chatting your ear off.

For what felt like forever Casey Jr went on about, everything. There wasn't a single topic he stuck to. Bouncing from asking about how you knew General Donnie to do you always wear pajamas? What was your favorite food? Do you have any parents? What's your favorite game in the rec room?

The kid was gonna be the death of you if not the UVs that were starting to roast you. The faded winter sleeping attire you wore not necessarily the best outfit to be clothed in while under the artificial rays. Though you didn't complain. Didn't want to miss this opportunity to be outside of the technological General's lab.

You weren't ready to go back to the darkness. Not yet.

A single (E/c) colored orb found itself focused on the sudden opportunity presented.

You didn't have to go back as long as you did this right. You could be free. You couldn't fuck this up again. Not again. The anxiety of the looming punishment sat in the back of your mind. Giggling. A child-like tone mocking you for your thoughts of freedom. Reminding you if you escaped something worse could happen. Would happen.

Blood trickled down the (skin tone) surface of your chin. You had accidentally chewed your bottom lip to ground beef with your nervous tick, again.

Using the right sleeve of your pajama shirt you wiped away the oozing crimson fluid.

"Are you okay (Y/n)?" Casey's high but worried voice broke you from your scheming thoughts.

Looking down at Casey Jr's baby checks that had been holding a wide chipped smile instead thinned out into a tight frown. Wide brown orbs innocently peered up at you with concern.

For a moment you didn't reply.

Looking past the apocalyptic born child observing the interaction between Leo and the worker he spoke to. Gageing how much longer you had before the Commander returned from the discussion.

" I'm fine... but, ....do you think you could help me with something Casey? "

°°°°°°°

When his softshell twin asked him if he could watch (Y/n) while he worked on the hydroponic filter pump. The red eared slider was not gonna lie, he was not looking forward to the task. Already having his own gremlin running a muck the last thing the blue clad Commander wanted was a creepy-ass robot following them around.

However whenever it came to Donnie and (Y/n) being involved in the same situation there was hardly room for argument. Leo was the leader of the Resistance he swore that he'd do his best to help end this apocalypse and to do so he needed a functional base. That entailed having a controlled food supply, functioning weaponry, dormitories, facilities— the works. If anything was to go down. The blue bandana wearing mutant only has one reliable individual who could repair, design, modify— you name it. In less time than a whole team of engineers and mechanics he could whip up— combined. Only Donnie could do it. It's cause of the afro mentioned scientist and his inventions that the Krrang hadn't taken them out yet. The aged blue bandana wearing turtle wasn't actually sure how long they could fend off the pink tentacle armada without his softshell twin.

The thought keeps him on edge sometimes— what if the turtle passed or chose not to use his gift the way he does. They'd be screwed in the long run. The turtle imagines it would be similar to that of ant colony walking into a spider's nest. The carnage would be unsalvageable. They'd have to use the last resort.

He couldn't afford for shit to go sideways.

And sometimes if that meant sacrifices... for the greater good so be it. It was something the mutant leader wasn't proud of.

Leo isn't even really sure when the purple clad mutant even met (Y/n) or how. Donnie kept mostly to himself. Never straying far from his lab and a working coffee machine. So the fact the caffine addicted nerd met someone, let alone a girl. Truly made the phenomenon a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes.

He knew what he was doing when Donnie made his ultimatums. It was (Y/n) or no base. The softshell mutant was aware the kind of game he was playing. How it would affect everyone. So many would be lost because the adult ninja turtle wanted to throw a tantrum. Leonardo was ashamed but, it was necessary. He had to give in to the mad scientist's demands. The olive skinned mutant would like to say he had no choice— But he did. And he chose to keep the Resistance alive rather than allowing you to be free. He couldn't. Donnie wanted you and so you were the purple clad General's. There was no room for negotiations. The softshell was always stubborn like that. He played the odds in his favor. He'd let the whole base crumble if it meant he couldn't have you.

And for the last year, that was that.

Leonardo knew that Donatello was keeping you in his lab and that at some point over the last twelve months the workspace began to double as the jade turtle's quarters as well.

Only discovering the new development when visiting his purple color coded brother one day. The blue bandana wearing leader doesn't remember what he had gone to his sibling's work space for but, once inside he found the usual cluttered layout. However off closer to the far wall in the direct line of sight was the (Blonde/Brunette/Raven or Scarlet Haired/ Etc) tribute his brother had demanded for.

This had been when the (e/c) eyed woman still had her own bed. Though at some point after your escape attempt that had been thwarted by Mikey. He remembered because of the presence of the steel restraints that you typically wore when in Donnie's laboratory.

In the corner you were laying down. Hands obviously bound behind your back. The (h/c) haired captive probably scratched her neck raw again. His theory only confirmed upon closer inspection. Beneath the steel collar a dressing of white gauze. Though that wasn't the only injury. Like a Christmas present you were wrapped almost head to toe in the cotton bandages. Most likely caused by other attempts to break free from your bonds which backfired. Resulting in Donnie just further inhibiting your mobility.

Sometimes he doesn't understand why the softshell turtle did what he does. If he loved you, why did he let you hurt yourself like this? The technological General's plan was to rid you of your will. Like the mustang in stables he was gonna break that need to be free. You would be his. The aged purple coded mutant wouldn't accept anything less.

It was creepy how his sciencey twin doted on his feral captive. How even when discussing the condition of the base the crippled mutant still gravitates towards your curled up figure. In spite your attempts to chomp off his jade digits the Donnie still continued to glide his fingers through (h/c) strands. The action was bizarre to the red eared slider. He couldn't relate but if this kept the softshell from throwing the headquarters into the destructive hands of the Krrang. So be it.

Which brings Leo back to the current task at hand. Watching both Casey Jr and his brother's captive as he did his patrols of the agricultural production. He needed to start getting a feel of the ratio amount of crops so he knew how to plan for the Resistance's future. Winter was gonna be coming soon and scavenging in the snow was not an easy feat. Especially with pink tentacle freaks and the assimilated around every lurking corner up on the surface.

Leo was sure that this was gonna be a pain in the shell however to his surprise he found some entertainment out of the one sided conversation Casey Jr was having with you.

Regardless of the lack of your response, the raven haired boy kept bombarding you with rounds of endless questioning. Like twenty-one questions but, with more like five hundred-fifty-five questions. It was hilarious. Many times as he was communicating with his subordinates he would over hear Casey Jr spout something random. Comedic prompting caused the mutant leader to muffle his chuckles on a few occasions. The action earned him a raised brow or two from a couple of agricultural workers.

Everything was fun and games, until it wasn't.

Leo had been strolling down one of the many select rows of dirt walkways onto the next location he needed a report from. He had been listening to his live comedy show when he noticed the lack of quips from his adolescent charge. That's when he peeked over his broad shoulder, only to find nothing but the dirt path beneath his feet. Casey Jr and (Y/n) nowhere to be found.

That's when suddenly shit turned into a real life Lou Jitsu movie with a plot twist that kept the viewer at the edge of their seat. Except for Leo this wasn't a Lou Jitsu movie. He fucked up. Shit wasn't just gonna line up and all his problems would be solved. No. Hot Soup he had to solve this himself. The Resistance Commander gripped the inside pockets of his loose fitted beige pants. A small amount of anxiety rose at the possible implication of the duo's absence meant.

Now the blue clad mutant was aware he was the sharpest tool in the shed but he knew some things. For example, you wanted to leave. Casey Jr knew how to leave the base. Leo taught him in case of emergency if the red eared slider himself or someone else wasn't present to assist the child. Said afro mentioned charge wanted you to respond to his pestering. And the Resistance leader was distracted by the comedic routine and his patrols to notice the disappearance of the two-man comedic troupe he had been chaperoning.

The grown ninja turtle knew what you were doing. If his hypothesis was correct—

You were trying to use Casey Jr to escape.

The blue bandana wearing turtle internally scolded himself for his stupidity. He knew you wanted to escape. He shouldn't have let his guard down just because of your meek unresponsive domineer and his humorous charge.

Donatello was gonna kill him if he didn't find you before the purple clad mutant was finished repairing the pump. Which at this point was any minute.

Taking a deep breath of air Leonardo calmed his startled nerves. The mutated Commander had no reason to stress. He could handle this easily. Reminding himself that he taught Casey Jr how to flee from the base. If that truly was the case this retrieval should be a walk in the park.

Cursing his luck under his breath the olive skinned turtle dashed off in the suspected direction that you and Casey had traveled. Unaware of inky orbs following his brother's retreating figure. Ignorant to the irritated displeasure that burned within the tary pits.

°°°°°°°°

As a kid your mother the ever devoted follower— used to warn you about making deals with demons and wicked imps. They'd offer whatever you wished for just a simple price before snatching away your soul. Never would you ever reach the kingdom in the clouds with her and your brother Ethan(I know so creative). Now adult, you knew that stuff was a crock of shit— but as a starry-eyed child with all the hopes and no crushed self esteem, you believed it. Though now as you traversed through disgusting sewer waste you can honestly say that it was a possibility. How else did you end up in this mess? You rolled the dice with the jade devil and now you couldn't pay.

"(Y/n)? .....Were you even listening?"

Without even realizing it you drifted off into your thoughts again an occurrence that only seemed to become more frequent the longer you stayed in that base. In that lab. With the purple bandana wearing turtle who betrayed your trust.

Hopefully after this you wouldn't have to worry about that mutated swindler ever again.

"Sorry.. I was just thinking about something...could you repeat what you said again?" You asked glancing down at your miniature guide, a tight smile presented on your (skin tone) face. It's been a while since you had to play nice.

It was selfish but, you had no other choice. You'd never have this opportunity again. You only had one way out. No one else was gonna help you. Push came to shove you were willing to do whatever it took to flee from the purple clad demon who wouldn't leave you be.

" Dios miós! I-iii aaasked why you're tryinna' to leave this base? Isn't everyone like, tryinna' to get in the base not out? " The doomsday child inquired. Emphasizing his question with a dramatic arched brow and one big questioning eye. The expression very animated. The kid likely picked up the look from a old salvaged comic from the Resistance headquarters' communal library.

Not prepared for the sudden insightful line questioning from the nine year old who up until now had been just asking whatever seemed to pop into his head.

With a forced grin you replied. "You wish." Teasing the now pouting child before continuing. "Though if you must know. I'm gonna go see some family." You lied releasing a tired exhale as your sole (e/c) orb looked around the seemingly empty canels that Casey was accompanying you through. Claiming that he only knew the way based on the look of the surroundings. How he tells the difference between one gross wall from another gross wall slightly boggled your head. Though if it got you out of this cement prison you didn't care.

For a moment as the two of you walked side by side the raven haired child peered up at you with a squinting gaze as he absorbed your answer. Another cartoonish action that made the corner of your lip slightly curl.

"Hmmmm... Alrighty! I can understand wanting to see your family. I lost my mother when I was young but, Leo and his brothers always make me feel right at home!" The young child perked as he grinned up at you with that wide chipped grin of his.

You missed this type of interaction. No fighting or an obsessive purple bandana wearing turtle lurking. Just two normal people just having a plain conversation. No commands or shifty deals. Just one person leading the other to the long awaiting freedom you've desired.

These interactions with the teddy bear brown eyed boy become more challenging with each quip the child spoke. Insects were drilling into the flesh under your skin again. Burrowing into the empty casket of your missing soul. Thriving on what is left of your sanity as they scuttled around in the memories you didn't want to face.

Somehow peering down at the chubby cheeks and scruffy black hair of Casey Jr's that didn't resemble Ethan in any way— still made you think of your deceased younger sibling.

He had been only eight years old he was the first to go out of your happy family trio. It had happened when the Krrang had first opened their portal. Neither one of you were prepared for the earthquake like shake before the ceiling of your mother's apartment collapsed and crushed the two of you under crumbling rubble. When you came to after pushing crumbled drywall from on top of yourself and searching for your younger sibling. All you found when you searched through broken pieces of your childhood home was blood. You couldn't lift the interior support beam off of where you had presumed Ethan was. The steel was far too heavy and your palms were too coated in the surrounding sediment to be able to lift the remaining pieces. You couldn't do anything. Unable to fulfill the role of the older sibling.

For hours you bawled as you had tried to wait for your mother's return. She had been at work when the Krrang attacked. You never did find out what became of her. You always did hope that she got away and somehow was doing well. Even if the reality is she most likely got assimilated or killed. You still always prayed she was doing good.

You just wanted to see them again. Go back in time and re-live the moments you carelessly spent. Fights and words you wish could be taken back. Reclaim wasted opportunities that you'll never have again. How you wish you could tell them you loved them both one last time.

"(Y/n) were here."

At the sound of Casey Jr's squeaky voice your lone (e/c) orb found presented before it was a waterfall of sludge that spilled over into a thirty-five foot drop. Leading down into what appeared into a bay of the same icky substance rushing past your soaked flats. An

With a cheeky grin the raven haired boy pointed down into the pool below. "This is it, the end of the line for me!" The boy quipped before continuing. "I can't go any further with you but, if you keep following that tunnel down there you should be out of the sewers in no time!" Casey finished with a smirk arms crossed over his tiny chest as he explained the directions. Obviously proud himself for remembering his Sensei's words.

" Thanks... " You grinned awkwardly. Not particularly fond of the idea of swimming through god knows what.

"Goodbye Casey, ...thank you for showing me the out." A small smile grew on your face as you looked back at the nine year old only to see the cause of your nightmares standing silently in the background. Glowing optic reflecting in the shadows like a beast prowling the jungle.

Suddenly the spacious catacomb you've been traversing through didn't have enough air. Your chest clenched tight around the squishy organs encased in your ribs.

"(Y/n) are you alrig—"

"Casey Jr stay back!"

It was Leonardo, already at his charge's side holding back the nine year old from advancing any further into the situation that no longer included them. Donatello already approaching forward with the same air of confidence he always carried. Expression studious and sharp. Although the purple tattooed turtle did not display it— he was fucking furious.

"I should've known you would do this to me, (Y/n). " The General dryly chuckled as he edged closer. Every bold step forward the purple bandana wearing ninja took, the closer your shaking legs stumbled towards the slimy edge of the trash filled waterfall. In his three fingered grip a pair of steel cuffs. The kind you see in the movies except from the look of the bulky things. The ones dangling from Donatello's right hand were real.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck— Things were moving too fast. Your rampaging pumping muscle was going to explode. Panicked breaths filled the range of sound your anxiety allowed at you honed in on the jade demon in front of you.

" I should've never made that deal with you... you lied to me. You knew that my mother was dead— YOU KNEW!" You cried as your lone (e/c) eye flashed back and forth between the cracking edge you stood on and the softshell who stood before you. "You fucking lied to me! You played me just so I would stay! I FUCKING HATE YOU! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Panting you learned forward, (skin tone) palms resting on your knees. Never breaking eye contact with the aged turtle who although appeared collected was everything but. Narrowed black eyes filled with so much anger. Though still allowed you continue.

"I... -pant-....will never.. -pant- ..fucking love you. You were a mistake. Any feelings I ever had for you were a mistake. I wish I never had met you. I wish I fucking died when you rescued me on your stupid scrap run those months ago..." Straighten your stature you gave the infuriated jade turtle one last look as you smugly looked him dead in the eye.

"I wish whatever fucked up God had chose to taken General Raph, ....had instead killed you..." You calmly stated. Laughing as you continued. Silent tears finally falling out of your last good eye. " Hahahaha— the only reason— you are soooo important enough to still be alive is because your older brother decided to give his life for all of you sick fucks! I pity his sacrifice— maybe at least if he was still here he would know how to handle shit instead of giving into an overgrown spoiled brat like you!"

Silence. No one made a peep. The only sound that broke through the thick tension in the tunnel was the rushing sound of the sewers water that at this point has successfully drenched the legs of your muck covered plaid bottoms.

In the background the fearless blue bandana wearing Commander's emotions were all laid out on his nonexistent sleeve. He was hurt, pissed, and over all he just looked disturbed with the overall conversation.

Meanwhile Casey Jr shielded his face into his Sensei's plastron. Quite sobs choking the boy as his tiny hands griped onto his Commander's beige pant leg like his life depended on it. Terrified of the situation that didn't make sense to the child. The sight made your heart ache just a little bit.

Donatello didn't say anything. He didn't do anything just bore holes into your soul. You had opened your mouth to continue berating the purple clad asshole who's kept you in his fuckin' lab for the last year. Forced you to sleep next to him. Locked you up like a dog when you tried to run away.

However the jade mutant beat you to the punch.

"Shut up. Don't you dare even say another fucking word. "The aged ninja seethed, closing the space between the two of you in a blink of an eye. His left metal palm shooting to grasp your according bicep, tightening his grip around the tender flesh.

" I don't ever want to ever hear you mention Raph's name ever again. You don't fucking deserve to say it. You're so ungrateful and pathetic it just makes everyone around you laugh at your stupidity. Are you really trying to leave the base? Me? For what? Just so you can go fucking kill yourself out there? I saved you. I'm supporting the human race even when all the facts say I shouldn't. That I should've given up on this stupid apocalypse alooong time ago but, I didn't. I had wanted to when we had crossed paths for the first time. When I rescued you, I changed my mind. Why can't you just be grateful!?!?" Donatello cried as he pushed you from the tunnels edge into the roaring murky waters below.

°°°°°

Beep...beep...beepbeepbeep

There she is.

The softshell will admit he lost a bit of his composure back there. He shouldn't have pushed you from that high of a point but, you just made him so mad. How dare you bring up Raph. You weren't there. You don't know what it was like on that battlefield. There was no winning, only retreat. You don't realize how much he wishes everyday that the one who had perished was himself not Raph. You don't realize. You're always so naive. That's why Donatello was here to keep you safe. It was for your own good.

There.

In the shallow waters was your water logged figure. Obviously you were out cold based off small rise and fall of your chest.

With a sigh, Donatello slid the projected screen from the monitor on his cybertronic arm. Deactivating the tracker that was implanted in your abdomen. Lucky for him had installed this little insurance a long time ago after one of your many fits just for this type of emergency. Finding the gadget handy in locating you both times. Not having to rely on his red eared slider twin's amazing capabilities.

Trekking into the shallow water the purple clad turtle reached down and retrieved your knocked out figure. Not caring particularly much about the condition of his loose dark purple pants that soaked up the surrounding water fairly quickly.

With a strong exhale of air the technological general retreated back to his base chastising you under his breath along the way. Once there the softshell would insure that you wouldn't have another opportunity like this again.

Like a true scientist Donatello learns from his mistakes and he'll keep trying until one of his punishments clicks. It's not like you won't give the techno demon the opportunity to do so. Not that Donatello minds.

After all where would science be without trial and error?

¶¶Creator's notes¶¶

Wazzup!

You guys made this far so you deserve the scoup on the next one-shot will be...

Drum roll🥁🥁

Yan!Future!Raph x Reader 🎉🎉

I don't have a picture for Future Raph but, if you guys have any good pictures saved hit me up I'm always open.

I have some ideas on how I want to do it. Though I could also turn it into a post movie sort of deal. Where it takes place after the events of the ROTTMNT movie. Thouughhh it's up to you guys. One person has already voted for some future Raph so we'll see what I come up with.

[gaast]

The video game industry is worth more than the film and music industries combined and I swear the only monographs that deal critically with games are those in game studies fields. You're about as likely to see a monograph do a close reading on a film as a book, and yet other narrative media tend to be underrepresented.

This isn't to say that because video games have so much economic value that they therefore must have value to critical theory and attendant discourses, but rather I think it demonstrates the very odd position that video games are in. Frankly, they're still seen as vulgar, and certainly too much so to merit critical treatment. This is a failure of scholarship. Pong, for example, was one of the first commercially successful video games, and it acted as something of a stand-in for table tennis. The arcade cabinet made table tennis more accessible to the public, who would otherwise require enough space, bodily ability, and access to a table (typically requiring wealth) to engage with the sport.

There's a tendency in some critical modalities to view sports and games as reproductions of capitalist imperatives to compete, win, and reign supreme. It's a rather reductive view of play that in many cases puts the cart before the horse. As esports leagues have shown, we played games against each other long before capitalists exploited our joy as labor.

In any case, Pong made more accessible certain physical modes of play that could very easily be impossible for the average American consumer to enjoy in 1971. Indeed, most sport is inaccessible, whether because of space (golf, association football), equipment (gridiron football), or the physical ability necessary to complete the basics of its play (hockey). The joys of playing table tennis were thus democratized in the arcade.

Sports sims developed over time but never lost their popularity. Titles like Tennis, Baseball, Tecmo Bowl, and Duck Hunt eventually gave rise to Punch-Out!!, which, uniquely among these examples, carried the implicit themes that made motion-picture successes like Rocky so indelible: the underdog can overcome seemingly insurmountable odds. Even a short king from the Bronx can defeat heavyweight boxing legend Mike Tyson with the right combination of skill, luck, and determination.

Interestingly, Punch-Out!!'s successful application of narrative technique didn't reframe the sports sim as a potential vehicle for narrative. Titles like Street Fighter II became successful less because they featured characters whose stories compelled audiences but rather because the technical achievements available in them hewed closer to the ideal of sport in general. By this I mean that I believe audiences, particularly sportswatching audiences, understand better than television executives that the hope for every game watched is that the game itself will be elegant and beautiful according to the specific sport. You don't have to be a fan of either team to enjoy a well-played Super Bowl because the art created on the field is universally appreciable so long as you can recognize the specific ways that gridiron football creates that beauty.

In this way we can recognize that narrative isn't a requirement of sports sims because, while individual sports seasons are enhanced by the narratives surrounding them, even in a vacuum these games can produce art in and of themselves. As such, it makes sense that licensing agreements would be made with sports leagues for permission to use their teams' and players' names and likenesses for their game products, as it is easier to make a beautiful game out of professionals at the highest, most difficult settings of their sports than it would be for amateur equivalents.

This is not to say that such considerations are necessarily consciously in mind when players purchase a sports sim. Rather, players enter into the basic contract that these games offer: play me, and you will have fun.

I also suggest that having a ludic sandbox available to them can help players engage with their favorite teams in a low-stakes way, thus offering numerous benefits to them perhaps better described in an essay examining sports fandom specifically.

In any case, ignoring the fundamental artform of each sport enables a quite crass view sports fandom in general. I believe that the very belief that sports are not art engenders the nasty comments you often hear of athletes, especially in the MLB. "These guys get paid to stand around for two and a half hours. And they get paid MILLIONS!" Of course, team owners agree. They also believe that players should be paid much less.

While art can sometimes elicit similar comments ("This Jeff Koons sculpture sold for HOW much? It's just a balloon animal!"), the so-called "legitimate" arts don't. A van Gogh of course deserves its price tag. Jaws of course should have cost millions of dollars to film.

Worth noting, of course, is that Jaws is an adaptation of a novel published a year earlier. Considered by critics at the time to feature simplistic characterizations, its suspense worked, and its marketing campaign made it widely-read. Jaws, the film, made enough improvements to the source text that its quality far outpaced the novel's, and it in turn became the archetypal summer blockbuster. This type of film is now generally regarded as being oversaturated and of low quality--and therefore of vulgar character.

Jaws was distributed to theaters in 1975, 4 years after Pong was put in arcades.

While film had to decay from art to trash, games started as trash and never elevated themselves (all of this, of course, in the critical consideration of the masses). And yet both Jaws and Pong represent the simple beauty of sport and competition--framed in different ways, yes, but with heroic underdogs, the uncertainty of victory, the elegance of struggle, sacrifice and strategy, all of this contributing to an experience of basic human cognitive joy, exultation in a play well-executed, a scene well-shot, a button well-pressed.

It's time to recognize such beauty where it is.

[boroughshq]

Welcome to the community bulletin board! Here are some events happening around the Boroughs this month:

April 1: April Fool's Day Special @ Punchline!, the Bronx

April 3: Run the River 5k @ the Bronx River, the Bronx

April 8: Solar Eclipse Viewing Party @ Manhattan

April 11: Pet Meet & Greet @ Prospect Park, Brooklyn

April 13: Scrabble Tournament @ Puzzles, Manhattan

April 22: Pot Painting @ Glazed Finish, Brooklyn

April 24: Scream Queens Marathon @ Technicolor Theater, Queens

April 19-21: April 26-28 BoroughsHQ Event 002: Art Festival (POSTPONED)

April 30: Tie Dye Fundraiser @ Tiny Tots, Staten Island

Continue reading below to find descriptive blurbs of each event. As a reminder, community events are optional events for members to use during their threads throughout the month of April.

April 1: April Fool’s Day Special at Punchline!, the Bronx

What better way to celebrate the national day of jokes than with a slew of professional jokesters? Join Punchline! for an hilarious one-night only lineup of some of New York’s brightest up and coming comedians! Laughs start at 7, and will keep on rolling all the way through to midnight!

April 3: Run the River 5k, Bronx River

In celebration of National Walking Day, non-profit organization StrideForward proudly invites you to join them for a scenic walk (or run) along the Bronx River! The race starts at 10am. All runners earn a complimentary medal upon completion, along with photo opportunities, healthy snacks, and a DJ playing them out at the finish line to boot! 

April 8: Solar Eclipse Viewing Party, Manhattan

For anyone not trekking to the Adirondacks for the total eclipse, you’re welcome to join in one of the many partial-eclipse viewing parties occurring around the city! Including one hosted by a well known local astronomy club, The New York Galaxy Patrol, in partnership with the Empire State Building! Ticket admission includes a pair of safe eclipse-viewing glasses and a solar themed cocktail drink. With music playing and a selection of food and drinks to purchase, guests are welcome to sit back, relax, and take in the sight of this remarkable occasion.

April 11: Pet Meet & Greet at Prospect Park, Brooklyn

Pet lovers rejoice! The Pet Lovers of New York (Brooklyn) Facebook group has scheduled a meet and greet for National Pet Day! All owners are welcome to mix and mingle with other owners — and don’t forget to bring your little ones with you! Pets ranging from dogs to birds to reptiles and everything in between are welcome!

April 13: Scrabble Tournament at Puzzles, Manhattan

For just a $30 cover, YOU can sign up to join in Puzzles’ Scrabble Tournament, in honor of National Scrabble Day. Starting at 2pm, join in as the entire foosball table section has been cleared out to make space for Scrabble tables. Winner of the tournament gets a weekend of FREE DRINKS from the establishment, and their name on the bar’s blackboard for ultimate bragging rights. Spectators welcome!

April 22: Pot Painting for Earth Day at Glazed Finish, Brooklyn

Happy Earth Day! To celebrate, Glazed Finish is offering an array of different sized plant pots for painting, all at a discounted price! 

April 24: Scream Queens with Technicolor Theater, Queens

Classic Scream Queens are taking center stage at Technicolor Theater for Scream Day. Enjoy the latest horror movies of today on the indoor big screens, and an assortment of classic horror films on the outdoor projector!

April 26-28: BoroughsHQ Event 002: Art Festival** Postponed to early May!

A festival of colorful spectacular, soon to take over the boroughs over the weekend of the 19-21 (& a week of ooc writing between 19-26). More information to come! **No threads allowed until week of event.

April 30: Tie Dye with Tiny Tots, Staten Island

Tiny Tots is throwing a fundraiser for a brand new playground! Support the cause by purchasing and dying your own t-shirt or pillowcase with them on National Tie Dye Day. The craft experience may be a little overpriced, but the proceeds all go to a good cause, and you get to have a fun tie dye experience!

Admin Note: The above events are all optional events that members are free to use as the setting for threads throughout the month of April. Though each event comes with brief descriptions, writers are free to manipulate and take liberties with them however they like for their threads. Additionally, writers are not restricted to only writing threads on the dates of the events listed; you are free to create threads around these events and post them whenever you like during the month of April.

[catdotjpeg]

A fake encampment was created at Queens College by CBS for the show FBI: Most Wanted on Monday (22 Jul). For clarification, the first two photos (with the fake tents and fake broken windows) are staged; the last two photos (with the person in the paramedic jacket and the placards) are of the real counterprotest.

Pro-Palestine advocates are criticizing Queens College, a school of the City University of New York (CUNY), for hosting a two-day TV production involving a prop protest encampment following an administrative crackdown on students for their Gaza advocacy efforts earlier this year.  The imitation campsite, consisting of multicolored tents and signs featuring ambiguous environmental protest language and deliberately misspelled words, is part of an ongoing shoot for CBS’s FBI: Most Wanted, a television series by Wolf Entertainment. According to an email sent by Queens College to community members, shared on X by Within Our Lifetime (WOL) organizer Nerdeen Kiswani, the mock encampment would feature “signage and branding for a fictitious university”; a “chase and arrest scene”; and a staged set with tents, firecrackers, and smoke effects. In response to Hyperallergic’s request for comment, a Queens College representative stated that the school “is often the site of television and film shoots by reputable production companies and media outlets.” 

“The campus community was advised in advance of the anticipated media shoot parameters, including the fact that the episode would focus on a climate change/environmental issue protest at a fictitious college,” the spokesperson said, adding that filming was completed today before noon.

Yesterday, July 22, the shoot was the focus of at least two actions led by pro-Palestine groups WOL, CUNY for Palestine, and National Students for Justice in Palestine. At Queens College, protesters alleged that their demonstration forced filming to wrap early, and outside the CUNY Graduate Center in Midtown Manhattan, more than 150 pro-Palestine advocates gathered to protest, joined by around 30 pro-Israel counterprotesters. 

“We’re here to send a very clear message to the CUNY administration that we will not stop until they drop the charges and until they meet the demands of student organizers,” Kiswani and other protesters at the Manhattan rally said in a call-and-response chant.  “But instead, what does CUNY do? They rent out Queens College for a film shoot for FBI: Most Wanted, where they set up a fake encampment to capitalize [on] the momentum of the Palestinian struggle,” the protesters continued, echoing long-standing calls for the school to divest from Israeli military interests and sever its relations with all Israeli academic institutions.

Carol Lang, an assistant professor at Bronx Community College who was at yesterday’s protest at the Graduate Center, told Hyperallergic that she broke a rib when police raided the City College of New York’s student solidarity encampment at the end of April, arresting 173 people. “[The police] knocked me down, and kept saying, ‘Move! Move!’ but there was no place to move. It was just this really big crowd, so we all fell on top of each other and my knee got all messed up when I slammed it against the ground,” Lang said. Hyperallergic has reached out to the New York Police Department about the allegations. “The criminalization of students who participated in encampments to stop a genocide is comical,” a protester at the Graduate Center who asked to remain anonymous told Hyperallergic. They added that they were suspended from their out-of-state school for participating in a solidarity encampment, which was also targeted by “many arrests and many suspensions.”

-- "TV Show’s Bizarre Mock Student Encampment Draws Protests in NYC" by Maya Pontone for Hyperallergic, 23 Jul 2024

[traipseartist]

July 17-21 - A Week on Trains into, out of, and around New York City.

Your average American has a train deficiency. Exposure is limited, sometimes contrived, and is usually entirely supplemented. Either by watching Buster Keaton films, or going to one of 3.5 Major US cities with functioning intra-regional transit (or any other major city not in this god forsaken car-wasteland).

New York City and the Outlying Territories qualify, but the train experience is a bit like a bullet in a windshield. The center is dense. Dense with humans, dense with train times, dense with platforms and letters and numbers and heat in the melting time of mid-July. As the cracks in the glass spider outward, the routes become more erratic, the landscape less recognizable, hours or days separate one train from the next. Amtrak, Metro North, The Long Island Railroad, New Jersey Transit, The Metropolitan Transit Authority, whatever the hell is going on with the multibillion dollar monstrosity that is the JFK AirTrain.

I am not new to trains as a concept of commuting--moving to NYC from the anemic public transit system that is MARTA in Atlanta (holding strong on US News's Top 10 Worst Traffic Cities in the US list since the 1996 Olympics) was definitely a shock but I... had ridden a train or two in my time! We would take MARTA to the airport in desperation! If it were the only way!

Needless to say, it took me no time to become the antagonistic New York pedestrian as depicted in any romcom trying to make New York seem like a frantic or chaotic landscape for the soft spoken. Public transit required no allegiance other than to that of speed and assimilation. Why would you drive? Why would you own a car? Where is it, exactly, that you were trying to go more slowly than the third rail could carry you?

When I moved to San Francisco I found that this allegiance was far thinner. Taking BART or Muni seemed sensical in some contexts, but truly insane in others. If you wanted to get beyond the video-game boundary that was Daly City or the Oakland Airport, well--that took a pledge. That took some dedication to the Earth or your wallet but it meant a complete disrespect for your time. My life was ruled by the CalTrain schedule from 2016-2018. My body began to pumpkin as the midnight hour approached on a Saturday night and I had to decide whether I would race sloppily down to the platform at 4th & King to catch the last train for the night or if the $100 Uber from the gin bar in The Castro back to my overpriced apartment in Redwood City was worth it. Couches were offered in pity but it always felt like an embarrassing concession to not having a spaceship-shaped Tesla of my own.

Now-a-days from my new home planet, a train for people is a memory, while trains for things rattle by soccer fields and public parks. Sometimes silently, sometimes in loud mockery of what America used to want.

Trains feel like what America used to want. And New York offers the whole range of that ancient desire.

Some of it is the red-hot impression of our post WWII golden era: knuckles holding onto subway straps and citizens rubbing the sleep from their eyes after nights in piano bars, of living out on the town. This part is rolled into New York's identity, especially. The City that Never Sleeps actually dozes on the A train, and wakes up in Canarsie by accident every now and again. But even when we're sleeping, we are moving, we are vibrating while doors clatter open and we drag air in from the Bronx and exhale it in Brooklyn.

Other parts of the American train system feel like long lost gospels lopped out of the New Testament. Where they fit into what would have been The Narrative is obvious. We live in a very big country, a country once dominated by its industry, its bubbling middle class, its desire to see the Grand Canyon and the contours of Mt Rushmore and Grandma Lola in Omaha. Yet somewhere along the line it feels like someone re-spun the tale with details that served themselves, and the story of the car and the open road sold well enough that the train bit lost bite. Like a pop star that only does well in Japan and other comparably unpredictable markets, we fell in love with the shape of the car, and the rest of the world never tried to trick themselves into believing they could always have ice cream for dinner.

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

I sit in the mostly empty dining car of The Pennsylvanian, it's been four hours and I have another five and a half to go. A full-faced conductor sits a few tables down from me. He wears his uniform hat--almost princely--and holds up the walkie-talkie connected to the Train's PA. He instructs us to look to our right out at Horseshoe Curve, an effective hairpin turn on the track completed in 1879 by immigrants working for $0.25 an hour. Work started in 1850 and hands turned from young to old making this grade slightly easier so that trains need not push up over the mountain to make it into Altoona, PA, dumping West Virginia coal and Pittsburgh steel at the feet of a living junction.

An old woman adds three sugars and four creams to her coffee in a paper cup and he stops his history lesson to help her carry the hot cup from the service window to her seat. For a moment I am in my country that never was, still moving across my home rectangle, in a book that got lost in the stacks of the Library of Alexandria.

[brokehorrorfan]

High Crime will be released on 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray + CD on August 27 via Blue Underground. The 1973 Italian-Spanish poliziottesco film is also known as La polizia incrimina la legge assolve.

Enzo G. Castellari (The Inglorious Bastards, 1990: The Bronx Warriors) directs from a script he co-wrote with Tito Carpi (Tentacles), Gianfranco Clerici (Cannibal Holocaust), and Leonardo Martín. Franco Nero, James Whitmore, Delia Boccardo, and Fernando Rey star.

High Crime The complete, uncut version of High Crime has been newly mastered in 4K with Dolby Vision HDR and DTS-HD Master Audio. It features reversible artwork. Special features are listed below.

Disc 1 - 4K UHD:

Audio commentary by director/co-writer Enzo G. Castellari

Audio commentary by actor Franco Nero and filmmaker Mike Malloy

Audio commentary by film historians Troy Howarth, Nathaniel Thompson, and Eugenio Ercolani

Alternate ending

Theatrical trailer

Disc 2 - Blu-ray:

Audio commentary by director/co-writer Enzo G. Castellari

Audio commentary by actor Franco Nero and filmmaker Mike Malloy

Audio commentary by film historians Troy Howarth, Nathaniel Thompson, and Eugenio Ercolani

The Genoa Connection - Interviews with director Enzo G. Castellari and actor Franco Nero

Interview with director Enzo G. Castellari

Interview with actor/stuntman Massimo Vanni

Interview with camera operator Roberto Girometti

Interview with composers Guido & Maurizio De Angelis

The Connection Connection – Featurette by Eurocrime! director Mike Malloy

Alternate ending

Theatrical trailer

Poster & still gallery

Disc 3 - CD:

Soundtrack composed by Guido & Maurizio De Angelis (Trinity Is Still My Name, Torso)

Franco Nero gives his most powerful performance as Commissioner Belli, a head-strong Italian cop who uncovers brutal murders in Genoa linked to Europe's lucrative heroin trade. When Belli and his family become targets, the obsessive cop turns up the heat in his fight to take down the smugglers importing the deadly dope from France. How much will Commissioner Belli sacrifice to bust the Marseille Connection?

Pre-order High Crime.

[oklcmc]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀،̲،̲⠀𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐓 ❪chapter seis：fortune favors the bold❫⸝ pt. 𝟐╱𝟐 [𝟏𝟖+]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀〝⠀I’m TRYNA be a LEADER⸝ but shit⸝ I’m FALLIN’ in⠀⠀⠀MY PAST⸝⠀〞 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✱ Tory Lanez — Adidas ❪2020❫

ׂ ̣ ○ . ° ♰ 𓈒 ॱ 𓂂 WORD COUNT⠀⦂⠀5，057

ׂ ̣ ○ . ° ♰ 𓈒 ॱ 𓂂 PAIRING⠀⦂⠀street fighter!black!male oc ❪keith powers❫ ✕ black!female oc ❪kelis rogers⸝ circa ‘99❫

ׂ ̣ ○ . ° ♰ 𓈒 ॱ 𓂂 FOREWARNING⠀⦂⠀This chapter will contain use of strong language and gore ִ 𖤠 Read at your own discretion.

ׂ ̣ ○ . ° ♰ 𓈒 ॱ 𓂂 AUTHOR’S NOTE⠀⦂⠀⠀⠀‘’⠀⠀⠀I’ve been working on this chapter progressively throughout these past few months of ‘22 and yet，I still don’t like the way it turned out. Given that it is just a filler chapter to give you guys hints on what everything’s leading up to in the next act，I still feel as though I could’ve put forth more effort with it to make it even more intriguing，but I’m not trippin’，’cause I really didn’t want to bring this chapter into ‘23 with me. Having this finally completed has been a huge weight lifted off my shoulders，you guys have no idea，so praise God for that! I can finally start the process of cracking down on my other hobbies besides writing this month，going into ‘23. As I would say back in my Wattpad days，show support by liking，reblogging or even commenting! I’m appreciative of every little interaction y’all give me，but more specifically with this piece of work here! Muah!⠀⠀⠀‘’

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀〝⠀MY THOUGHTS MUST BE RELAXED⸝ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀BE ABLE TO MAINTAIN ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀‘CAUSE TIMES IS CHANGED ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AND LIFE IS STRANGE

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀THE GLORIOUS DAYS IS GONE ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AND EVERYBODY’S DOIN’ BAD ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀YO⸝ MAD LIVES IS UP FOR GRABS!⠀〞

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀-ˋˏ⠀VINEGAR HILL⸝ BROOKLYN ⠀⠀⠀⠀SATURDAY⸝ OCTOBER 𝟖ᵀᴴ⸝ 𝟏：𝟏𝟕 AM ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀TYREE’S PAD⠀ˎˊ˗ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀🐉系🍱🥢🥡💮���𓄹

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓

ㅤㅤㅤ“𝕺KAY⸝ SO I’M FULLY AWARE that I’m late arriving to our Kung Fu Watch-A-Thon, but the great news is that I’ve come bearing gifts to make up for the time lost!”

After a forty-minute commute to the Soldier crew’s habitual dining place of Louie & Ernie’s Pizza back in The Bronx and weaving traffic for nearly the same amount of time, Kei and Lamar had successfully made it through the door of Tyree’s Vinegar Hill pad where Isaiah had been patiently anticipating their arrival on an empty stomach.

He sat slouched within his favorite seat within the apartment, arms crossed with his traditional attire of wrinkled baseball Jerseys and white crew neck T-shirts while The 36th Chamber of Shaolin aired on the 55″ flat screen television. The camouflage A Bathing Ape brand bucket hat he was then sporting had been slightly tilted down over his mahogany eyes, making it damn near difficult to tell on whether or not he had actually been watching the film or whether it had been watching him the entire time, especially beneath the dim directional lights of the front room.

They both had received an answer to their question when Isaiah went to adjust himself in the recliner at Kei’s bribery.

“Ah, I knew you couldn’t resist a good bargain,” Kei conveyed rather vivaciously, swiftly slipping from out her Cinderellaesque PVC pumps and leaving Lamar to fetch them like the mutt he was. She went to safely place her glass bag aside on the entertainment stand before taking the pizza boxes from his possession and going to approach Isaiah, kneeling before him in her authentic Thierry Mugler frock. “So what will it be tonight, Zay, plain cheese or Margherita?”

Without so much as a single utter, Isaiah didn’t hesitate when hungrily outstretching his hands for the box with the all cheese pizza stored inside of it.

“Now how’d I know you’d choose that one? More Margherita for me then,” She shrugged, placing the box of Margherita pizza on the coffee table before going to stand on her own two, facing towards the hallway in which their bedrooms resided while finally getting the opportunity to take down the high ponytail in her head that seemingly gave her a make-shift face lift and migraine throughout the course of the night. “I’ma go wash this makeup off and slip into something a little more comfortable. Keep my se—”

“Thank you.” An indistinct baritone voice muttered, causing Kei, as well as Lamar to pause dead in their tracks.

“Lamar, y-you said somethin’?”

“Hell nah!” He exclaimed, putting up a minor fight with the can of Red Bull he had managed to snag from the tall freestanding larder fridge while attempting to get it open. “I think that little nigga just talked!”

“Oh my God, Zay! You can talk?!?! It’s a miracle!” Kei exclaimed in excitement, clasping her hands together and bringing them up towards her gloss coated lips before turning to face Isaiah who had a bashful grin ghosting his full lips.

“That nigga hasn’t spoken in like five years!” Lamar stated, gently going to grab Kei up by her upper arm before catapulting her towering stature towards his own by his free hand. “Ay, whatever voodoo you performed on him and T, you need to try on me.” He blew a kiss in her direction in which she rejected by kissing her teeth and rolling her eyes before snatching away from him.

“It’s called “Decorum,” weird ass. You oughta learn more of it. Now if you’d excuse me, I’d like to go change unlike some people ‘round here. I ain’t gon’ name no names, and keep your hands out my pizza!”

“I bought the shit.” Lamar retorted, falling back onto the leather sofa.

“Yeah, with my man’s money!” Kei shot back once in the safety of her and Tyree’s bedroom before going to slam and lock the door.

“You, as well as I know that that’s bullshit, aight, Kei?! My mans owes me for all the babysittin’ I’ve done with you and Zay these past six years and countin’, for you, a month and countin’! Fuck else you think I’m gettin’ paid for? To sit ‘round, lookin’ pretty? Oh, I must’ve forgot, that’s you and Bianca’s responsibility, right? ‘Cause I ain’t tryna step on anybody’s toes!” Lamar shouted sarcastically in response from the living room area, mouth then full of cheese pizza.

“Tuh! Won’t ‘fend me none!” Kei sibilated once her high quality jewelry was removed and stored safely inside it’s organizer.

She opted her vintage Thierry Mugler frock for casual attire that was far less overstimulating, that being a graphic camisole top and a pair of loose fit denim shorts in which she had to fold the band over in order to keep them up on her waistline for the time being. She slipped her pedicured feet inside her green Marni Sabot mules with a very high priority of showering straight after dinner before retreating to the bathroom to rid her face of any makeup.

She was in the midst of drying her face with a few disposable Bounty quilted napkins when an obnoxious crash could be heard coming from the living room area, causing for her to pause all action completely. She thought nothing of it in that spare moment of silence, resuming with her nightly regime, chalking it up to being nothing more than Lamar’s ass horseplaying around with Isaiah, per usual, until it came to her name being shouted by Lamar, despair lacing his tone. She was sure on disposing the used napkins before rushing to his aide with her heart in her throat.

Kei knew something was off that night. Her intuition led her to believe so, and the blood smearing on the open door, staining Tec’s hands and all tracing back to the once white T-shirt of Tyree that was then soiled in it further proved that she should’ve stuck with her first instinct instead of putting her faith in his. She couldn’t bare the thought of losing another.

“TYREE!” Kei shouted unto him, knees collapsing at his side by the leather sofa in which his tremoring body was then laid upon. “Tyree...” She whimpered, tucking her quivering bottom lip between her teeth only momentarily as a tear fell from the tip of her tinted nose. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands or attire dirty when carefully going to bring his body closer to hers. She assumed the only way they’d receive any explanation on this at all was if they’d remain calm while going about it. “Tyree, baby, tell me what happened. Who did this to you, hm? C’mon...” She sniffed, damp forehead falling against his as she caressed his face for comfort though it did anything but that. “Please talk to me, baby. Just... Please!” She wept, losing patience as he convulsed within her arms.

By this time within the night, Tyree’s 6′2″ frame had succumb to severe pain due to the gunshot wounds that penetrated his shoulder and side. The amount of blood he had lost from the train station to right there on the sofa had him feeble and delirious. He could barely distinguish illusion from reality. A desperate cry for help would only resort in more blood being spilled, so was there even a point in entertaining the thought of it? If this were his fate then he was damn sure accepting of it.

“Tec, what happened tonight?!” When Kei couldn’t pry the answers from her boyfriend, she instead found herself inquiring the next person in line for the job. Her glossy eyes fell on Tec who paced at the center of the living room, bewilderness set into his expression as the events that took place well over an hour ago still played out in his head on a constant loop.

His blood-stained hands trembling with panic as he skillfully attempted to ignite the backwood tucked between his lips even in the condition of an sprained wrist. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around how none of them seen it coming, and on the other hand, he couldn’t help but to place blame on himself with how Tyree and Soldier ended up. So many “If’s” and “Maybe’s.” If only he had took his own truck instead of pooling with Soldier that night, it would’ve bought them more time to escape the Jakes with him. He could’ve gotten Tyree home much more quicker than what the train had, not to mention them having to walk blocks from the crime scene in order to catch that.

“Shit, I don’t know, Kei!” Tec bellowed in agitation once pulling the blunt from his lips, halting his pace only momentarily in order to gather his thoughts. “We was only supposed to be hittin’ The Heights to celebrate T’s win tonight. Couple bottles, some sesh, a few bitches, y’know? The usual. Shit took a left turn in Soldier’s whip once we found out them opp niggas was following us from the venue. Ra had to have been wit’ them niggas—”

“Ra?! As in Raphael?!” Lamar interrogated, head jerking back and eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Nah, no way.”

“Nigga, I’m tryna tell your ass, Ra was wit’ them niggas! Who the fuck else you think was bustin’ shots in T’s direction first?! In the front seat of our whip, at that?!” Tec sniffed, swiping his thumb beneath his frigid and tinted nose in anger by use of his dominant hand. “I saw the shit myself! Next thing you know, an old school Cadillac Coupe DeVille that them niggas was rollin’ in pulls up next to us and starts firing more shots. We all ended up crashin’ somewhere on 125th and Lex, but it ain’t end there. Tyree called himself hopping out to go after them niggas... Alone. Meanwhile, I’m left to tend to Soldier even though I’m just as fucked up as he is at that point,” He took a swift pull from his blunt, his vacant eyes wide open and set on nothing in particular as he went to close out his story. “I’m still not even a hundred percent sure what went down in that station earlier, shit, I’m not even sure if I want to know. I’ll let T tell y’all that part. All I do know is that Ra’s on the run, Soldier’s in the slammer and we out here.”

“Soldier’s in holding?” Kei questioned empathetically as if that had been the only statement she excerpted from his vent.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ way half these niggas jumped ship, Soldier’s in the can and we out here outnumbered, crippled or damn near dead! Let’s get Tyree to the nearest hospital so that we can go get back at them niggas!”

“Nigga, are you dumb, stupid or slow?! Did you not hear what the fuck I just said?! The streets is mad hot right now for any of us, that including Kei! It was mad surveillance cameras in that one spot. The best we can do right now is lay low ‘til it all blows over.”

“What?! And let him bleed out?!” Lamar questioned, extending his arms out in the direction of Tyree.

“I feel like you got somethin’ you wanna say, Lamar...” Tec stated, walking up on Lamar.

“You guys, is now really the best time for all this?” Kei questioned softly.

“Fuck that. I’m makin’ a housecall to Dr. Moore. He’ll clear all this shit up. C’mon, Zay. You ‘on’t need to be seeing all this.” Lamar stated, grabbing the back of Isaiah’s neck in a brotherly manner once he was in close proximity of him before they would both make their way to the back of the apartment.

“Yeah, you call that strung out ass nigga. I’m headin’ to the rooftop. I need some fuckin’ air.” Tec announced, slamming the door on his way out and leaving Kei on her lonesome.

Flatbush，Brooklyn

A very eager and even more anxious Jasper Valentine sat positioned in genuflect as he laced his Adidas with unsteady hands before his own son who laid fast asleep and bundled within the comfort of his own car seat warmer, on the porch of none other than the Lewis’.

It was well past midnight and New York had hit it’s lows as far as the fall weather was concerned which would explain their hefty getups, but Jasper had deep meaning to go a lot further in his.

“Ay, little man, it’s daddy here,” Jasper glanced down at his five-month-old son’s full face for what could potentially be the last time, his NUK brand pacifier being latched on sporadically throughout the infant’s deep slumber. “I realize... I realize that you’re far too young to comprehend just what I’m about to tell you, but I feel as though I at least owe that to ya dukes since your grandparents couldn’t exactly do the same when it came to us. I’m going away for a minute. Going to find your Titi Kei along with your Tío Antonio. It’s uncertain to me on just how long we’ll actually be away or if we’ll even be returning at all with the way things are lookin’ right now, but the really dope part about all this, is that you’ve got angels in your corner, ready and willing to protect you at any given cost, that including your abuela, your madre and even ya Tía XiXi, so you be a good boy for them ‘til papi gets back, hm? And just remember, no matter what happens after tonight, I love you, Joie Valentine. Never will stop lovin’ you.” He kissed his teeth with a wink, giving his son a gentle chin check that caused the infant to slightly stir in his sleep before standing to his feet and going to adjust the strap of the brimming The North Face jester backpack on his right shoulder which so happened to be considered Joie’s makeshift diaper bag since birth as well.

His right hand latched onto the handle of Joie’s car seat before finally facing towards the front door of the Lewis’ Flatbush brownstone and proceeding to ring the doorbell with whatever pride he had left in him.

Mrs. Lewis’ dainty stature would soon appear at the interior craftsman doors of the vestibule of her brownstone in a satin bonnet while tying her terry cloth bath rope closed over her muumuu nightgown with her eyes halfway closed shut.

“Jasper,” The elder woman exhaled deeply in relief, bringing the young man into her tight embrace almost as if she hadn’t been expecting his company. He would’ve done the same if it weren’t for him clutching on the handle of Joie’s car seat as well as the strap of his diaper bag. “Thank God you made it here safely,” She pulled back, clasping her hands together before bringing them up towards her full lips as she batted her natural lashes in his direction. “How you been holding up?”

“I’ll be at ease once I know Kei’s back home safe,” Jasper stated, a little hostile than he probably initially intended. This all stemming from their very first encounter with the police. Seemed as if everyone had questions, but no one had answers, so he was setting out to find them on his own. “Look, Mrs. Lewis, I... I just wanted to personally thank you for doing me this solid again. I really don’t know how me and mines would’ve even made it this far without the support of you and yours. The Tsangs included.”

“Jasper Valentine, there’s no need to thank me,” She insisted, grabbing at both of his brawny upper arms. “You just thank the Lord above for binding us together in trying times such as this and for giving you the strength and protection to carry on day to day, you hear?” Her fingers slipping beneath his chin affectionately in order to lift his head up in confidence so that they were seeing eye to eye had him smiling through the pain. “The only thing you need to do for me is to be sure Kei gets home safely, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” He nodded his head in agreement. “And I know you didn’t ask for anything in return, but I still left $500 in cash, my EBT card and the keys to the apartment in Joie’s diaper bag just in case I don’t make it back in time and he ends up needing more clothes, diapers, formula or anything else for that matter. I know you’ll be checkin’ in on mi abuelo as well though he’s pretty self-sufficient, but just in case, his SSDI check comes in on the third of each month and that’s usually what we’ll use to pay the rent with after getting his necessities.”

“I know you’re good for it, baby,” Mrs. Lewis assured, taking Joie as well as his diaper bag from his possession around the same time Antonio made an appearance at the vestibule in his coordinating black assemble. Boy, was she a strong woman to be her early sixties. “Now you two go and find your sister. I’ll be praying!” She shooed the young adults away from her stoop.

They would get halfway down the street before they’d open their mouths to say anything.

“You never told me where we’re headin’ first.” Antonio stated, lacing his favorite range of metallic silver Nike Air Force Foamposite Pro sneakers.

“We’re going to see a man about a horse.” Jasper informed nonchalantly, not willing to make further conversation than that as he would yank the hood of his pullover over his freeform locs at the signal of the crosswalk light.

Bloomingdale，New Jersey 3：16 AM

Jasper and Antoino’s excursion from the gutters of Flatbush, Brooklyn to the suburbs of Bloomingdale, New Jersey by use of the Q train was a straight shot that only took a two-hour duration if you included the bus rides in between. Their destination of the night was on the porch of a three-bedroom townhome complex located in a predominantly residential area. To say that they both felt every bit of out of place, especially dressed in all black while being Black, at this time of night, was an understatement, but they both knew that they were there to serve a greater purpose, so there was really was no use in turning back at that point in time. Plus the Rap music pumping from the inside told them otherwise. This had to have been a safe space.

“Yo, bro, just a reminder that when we get inside, let me do most of the conversing. Remember I told you on the train ride here that I’ve known these cats since high school and how they ain’t too fond of new people comin’ ‘round.” Jasper forewarned, ringing the doorbell to the townhome as instructed before stepping back to where Antonio stood, carelessly rolling his preferred strain of sour diesel into a fronto leaf just to calm his nerves since he couldn’t find the time to do so earlier.

“I gotchu, bro.” Antonio reassured, not even bothering to glance in his direction as the panel door before them flew open without even so much as an interrogation on their identities while standing on the opposite side, a thick fog of marijuana smoke following shortly after. Their choice in the likes of Baby Keem’s discography weren’t as muddled then with the door being wide open. They could make out every word being shouted within the sidebar conversations of those who occupied the living room area inside. Though it seemed too late within the night to be making plans to go anywhere far.

They could only guess who actually answered the door for them as their eyes fell onto a kid, no older than eight years old and evidently of mixed race just by the loose curl pattern of his untamed natural, standing in the doorway in Marvel thermal long johns and crew socks while rubbing his puffy eyes in closed fists.

“Ay, little man, your parents—” Jasper began to interrogate the boy on his parents whereabouts when the answer came stumbling into view.

“Blaze,” Though clearly inebriated, the woman was courteous enough to hiccup into her fist before clutching onto the door for some stability. “What’ve I told you ‘bout opening my door without permission from me or your dad, huh?!”

“Sorry, mommy...” Blaze sulked with his head hung low.

“There won’t be a “Sorry” next time. I’ma just start putting a belt to your ass, how ‘bout that?! Huh?! Now go to bed like I asked! You know good and dang on well you not supposed to be up at this time of night!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Blaze remained courteous throughout his mother’s dispute, turning on his heels to retreat to his bedroom, her eyes following him every step of the way.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that. These ki— Jasper?!” The young mother would cock an eyebrow, an inviting smirk ghosting her full lips as her hands fell to her waist at the sight of an old friend.

“Shawnee, hey,” Jasper greeted once coming to realization of it being his former friend from high school as she reached out for a hug to which he happily accepted. “Long time, no speak. It’s good to finally see you again. That’s you?” He asked, referring to the kid who had seen himself up to his bedroom.

“Um, yeah,” She nodded once pulling away from him and going to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Me and Juul’s. I heard you had one too. Congratulations.”

“Why, thank you.”

“The fuck is Juul?” Antonio muttered, only expecting for Jasper’s ears to hear until the back of Jasper’s hand came flying into his solid chest, nearly knocking the wind from him and the blunt from out his hand.

“Um, this is my brother-in-law, Antonio, but we call him Juice. I bought him along fo’ the ride.You think Juul’ll mind?”

“Course not. He’s been expecting your company, actually,” She stated, stepping aside to give them access to the townhome. “Upstairs, first door on your left.”

“Thank you.”

The duo would enter the townhome with great precaution, moving with stealth as they passed the kitchen, dining and living room areas that housed two more beautiful women— One sporting a bleached pixie cut and the other sporting a side swoop— Who indulged in their choice of marijuana or liquor while sparking up a conversation on the company as they passed by in order to reach the staircase.

They were hardly able to make it past the threshold of their designated bedroom within the townhome without firearms being pointed in their direction, causing for them to throw their hands up in defense.

“Yo, Juul, Paris, Sol? Chill! It’s just me, Jasper, from prep school, remember?” Jasper sputtered with his chest heaving as the trio hesitated to lower their weapons. He pondered on if this paranoid behavior came routine for the three, especially with a child being involved. Surely, these weren’t the same people he once considered running with back in prep school.

“Shit, Jasper,” Juul exhaled, running a clammy hand down his speckled face before being the first of the three to lower his weapon, surprisingly. “You gotta speak up next time. We almost blew your damn lid off,” He drawled, his ocean blue eyes scanning the room to catch his two colleagues still in defense mode. “They good.”

“They ain’t good ‘til I say they are,” Paris stated, glancing back at Juul.

Sol was an exchange student deriving from Japan at their time of prep school. He verbally spoke a lick of English and was more on the mute side either way which lead other people to push their own narratives about who he was as a person. Except for Paris. Paris was patient, ready and willing to protect Sol at all costs, study his culture and vice versa, so Sol would always feel the need to coincide with him, good or bad. They were the true definition of yin and yang. Before The Notorious 3 were even established, there was Paris and Sol, bonding over their passions for hypebeast fashion and music.

“I know that’s Jasper, but who the fuck is this Mr. T lookin’ motherfucker to the left of him? Nobody sent for him.”

True, Jasper thought.

He should’ve asked before stringing him along. He knew that they kept a knit operation and an outsider could cost them everything, so he couldn’t really blame them for being cautious.

“This is my brother-in-law, Antonio. We call him Juice. He’s just here lookin’ for the same answers as me, man.” This statement evidently put everyone’s racing minds at ease, causing for Paris and Sol to finally lower their weapons before Jasper and Antonio did the same with their hands.

“You should ask next time.” Paris suggested.

“No doubt.” Jasper agreed, hesitantly going to take a seat in the loveseat alongside Antonio.

“Y’all mind if I light this joint?” Antonio asked, making himself comfortable by removing his Supreme brand backpack before holding his fronto up to their eye level to prevent further suspicion.

“Yeah, man, knock yourself out.” Juul approved, taking a rip from his own form of antidepressant which so happened to be a vape.

“Now that the dust has settled, can we get down to business on my sister’s whereabouts?” Jasper inquired, irritation evident within his tone as he clasped his hands together.

“Course, bro. That’s what we’re all here for, right?” Juul stated with no particular response. “You know I’ve never beat around the bush with any of y’all, so I’ma just come right out and say that the reason the cops couldn’t find Kei is because she’s now apart of an underground street fighting ring.”

“She’s what?!” Jasper exclaimed in disbelief, leaping up from his place on the loveseat as if it would somehow obliterate the anger he’d been carrying all this time. He promised himself that he wouldn’t get riled up, no matter the circumstances that she were in, but he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that his baby sister had been engaging in an underground street fighting ring of some sort and how it only took Juul’s less than ten minutes to tell him so while it took the New York Police Department more than ten days to even identify XiXi’s lifeless body on a dead end street. They were useless! “Why y’all ain’t just tell me this shit on the phone earlier in the night, huh?! We could’ve been at these niggas’ spot!”

“Bro, don’t shoot the messenger, aight?! We just attended the spot earlier in the night after months of being absent from the scene. It would’ve been mad suspicious of us to go snatching Kei up without an actual plan in motion. Plus Kei didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger at that moment in time. What more do you want us to do?”

“To do your fuckin’ job, how ‘bout that?! Do exactly what I paid y’all to do! It’s not that fuckin’ hard!”

“And it ain’t that simple either, Jasper!” Juul’s reciprocated Jasper’s energy, pouncing up from his seat in the office chair before walking up on him. “And what you’re not about to do is come inside my crib and try to bitch me in front of our boys or my son while he’s lying in the next room! We beyond all this shit!” Being the bigger person out of the both of them, he gripped Jasper’s shoulder in order to compose him. “Look, I get your determination on getting your sister back home, Jasper, I truly do. I’d flip out if my sister was in a ring too, but you gotta keep in mind that these people we talkin’ ‘bout are just as lethal as us three, if not, more and on a much larger scale; therefore, we gotta be strategic on how we move.”

“Then what exactly is it that you suggest we do, Juul? ‘Cause I’m losing my patience. I’ll take them niggas on myself.” Jasper gritted, shooting daggers in his direction.

Truth be told, Juul hadn’t really had any particular plan in order. This was one of those plan-as-you-go situations, but he wasn’t about to let Jasper know that.

All previous tension within the room seemingly came to a standstill when all three of the women from earlier came bombarding the already crowded place with their inebriated spirits and the causes of them, sparing Juul some time to think this through.

Shawnee would stumble her way over to Juul before going to wrap her flimsy arms around his torso the best way that she could while her friend sporting the blonde pixie cut found a comfortable seat inside of Paris’ lap and the other replaced Jasper’s spot on the loveseat beside Antonio.

“Jasper, I’m sure you remember Shawnee,” Juul reintroduced his fiancée to his childhood friend as if they hadn’t already had the honor of doing so before he or Antonio had even stepped foot inside the townhome. “That’s Paris’ girlfriend, Phylum and their best friend, Angel, who’s pretty familiar with the underground scene, am I right, Angel?”

“Um, yeah,” Angel hesitated to answer, Seagram’s Escape Sangria wine cooler clenched within her hand. “Given I haven’t been in a few months.”

“That’s it!” Juul exclaimed, snapping his fingers.

“What’s it?” Jasper queried in irritation.

“Angel! We could use her as a decoy at the next street fight happenin’ at The Chop Shop in Queens! She can easily side with Kei, get the details on where they’re crashing at and from there, you and Juice’ll have y’all way on getting Kei out.”

Jasper didn’t know whether or not Juul’s plan was actually foolproof, but he didn’t think he had much of a choice at that point. He wasn’t familiar with that territory or it’s kindred, only Kei, so it was best to let him do his job, cause if the circumstances were up to him, he would’ve walked in, guns blazing over his sister.

“Aight, fuck it,” Jasper sighed out, giving in. “What’s the soonest you can get this all lined up?”

“Shit, tonight, but that doesn’t change the fact that the next street fight ain’t scheduled ‘til the end of the month.”

“Ain’t no sense in wasting time then. Let’s make it happen.”

“I’m on it, bro. You got my word.”

ׂ ̣ ○ . ° ♰ 𓈒 ॱ 𓂂 AUTHOR’S NOTE⠀⦂⠀⠀⠀‘’⠀⠀⠀Just to make one thing perfectly clear，I came up with Juul’s name way before this episode of Euphoria aired. I’m talkin’ year ‘20，so don’t even try me，ma’am. I’ll hopefully be seeing y’all the top of next year with a new chapter if my job and other hobbies don’t interfere with that，fingers crossed! Love y’all! Thank y’all for tuning in wit’ me. 'Til next time.⠀⠀⠀‘’

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ziggy baitinger as 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐄

⤷ occupation：juul and shawnee’s biological son

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀jasmine cephas jones as 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐄〝𝐍𝐄𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄〞

⤷ occupation：juul’s fiancée and blaze’s biological mother

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀jada pinkett smith，circa ‘95 as 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐌

⤷ occupation：paris’ long-term girlfriend

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀meagan good, circa ‘06 as 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋

⤷ occupation：shawnee and phylum’s girlfriend

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀angus cloud as 𝐉𝐔𝐔𝐋

⤷ occupation：1╱3 of the notorious 3

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀pharrell williams and tomoaki〝nigo〞nagao, circa ‘06 as 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 and 𝐒𝐎𝐋

⤷ occupation：2╱3 of the notorious 3

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀YOU’LL DISCOVER...

⁰⁰⁰.⠀⟆⠀ACT II：〝IMPERIAL OVERSTRETCH.〞 ⁰⁰⁷.⠀⟆⠀CHAPTER SIETE：〝THE MARATHON.〞❪COMING SOON❫! ⁰⁰⁰.⠀⟆⠀PINTEREST BOARD. ⁰⁰⁰.⠀⟆⠀MASTERLIST. ⁰⁰⁰.⠀⟆⠀TAGLIST.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀HERE!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⨳𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 🐚⋆ Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪taglist❫

@neeville​ @dtedani ✯ @negative-azure @aubreysgraham ✯ @itzkee ✯ @prettienee

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ⓒ oklcmc⸝ 2022.

[thelonelywiz]

MY WRITING.

you are my only friend. i am undone without you.

Table for Two (2019)

Summary: Alex Winfrey, an anxious and selectively mute 16 year old boy, lives in Titusville, FL and works at his uncle’s diner called the Hotspot Diner as a busboy. After making friends with Jackson “Jax” Abrams, local jock and overachiever, the two boys grow closer and after some digging, Alex gets closer to finding out where his absent mother is and eventually runs away to NYC to find her, bringing his new friend along with him.

Format: novel

Genre: young adult, contemporary, coming of age

Themes: friendship, love, family

Inspo: playlist & pinterest board

Status: WIP, turning it into a live action tv show :)

The Poet Virgil (2022)

Summary: In a world where monsters and humans coexist, anything can happen. Especially in the brownstones of Brooklyn, New York City. 

The famous vampire poet, Virgil, lives with his roommate, Bea, a werewolf and former rock star drummer of BLUDHOUNDS turned grade school teacher. With his very last chapbook in the works and an award ceremony to attend, Virgil has a speech to write. But when his literary agent and best friend (and Bea’s on and off girlfriend), Calypso is found dead, he and Bea are spun into the world of murder mysteries and conspiracy. The threat of succumbing to their monstrosity increases as tensions and risks run higher, and Virgil and Bea must learn to face their grief together despite their differences. With the help of Bea’s brother, Seven; a fairy from the Bronx, Juno; an unlikely ally, and an eager human barista, a team of monsters (and Aaron) is just what the five boroughs need to defeat The Hunters once and for all. 

In this romantic comedy turned murder mystery, The Poet Virgil tells a story of death, love, and what it means to be seen as a monster.

Format: screenplay

Genre: urban fantasy

Themes: grief, justice, friendship, family, generational trauma, love, hope

Inspo: playlist & pinterest board

Status: COMPLETED, available to read, turning it into an animated tv show :)

What Her Name Wasn’t (2022)

Summary: A college student who can see ghosts befriends a ghost girl from the 50s after renting an apartment off campus, and they team up to figure out who killed her and her family (and she helps them get with their crush, wing woman style).

Format: novella in five parts

Genre: new adult, contemporary, mystery

Themes: friendship, death

Inspo: playlist & pinterest board

Status: COMPLETED, available to read

Drastic Times (2022)

Summary: Set in the late 90s that’s split into three perspectives. One story is of a pair of twins running from the law and their past, another is a housewife making the best of a bad situation, and the last is a “rookie” detective trying to get his friend back.

Detective KASPER MONTE makes a mad dash out of Los Angeles after pulling his sister out of the muck. Again. BLAIR MONTE, an infamous criminal, unfortunately can’t talk her way out of this one. The twins must drive across the country to a safe haven in the American Southwest, confront the dynamic they share, face their own identities, and find their place in the world.

States away in a holy rolling town in Missouri, DELIA WRIGHT struggles to break out of her shell and make the hardest decision of her life: run away for her and her daughter’s safety and threaten her tense relationship with God, or appease her abusive husband and keep up her good Christian lifestyle for everyone’s sake. 

Right on Kasper’s trail, Detective REX slowly unravels the twists and turns that is his friend’s past. Along the way, Rex encounters an orphan girl who’s seen more than she should, and as she tags along he must figure out what it means to have a family of his own, and if his mission is really worth it.

In this nonlinear NEO-NOIR film, one must either live with the consequences or learn to take some drastic measures.

Format: screenplay

Genre: neo-noir, crime drama

Themes: identity, family, morality, the cycle of violence, love, hope

Inspo: playlist & pinterest board

Status: COMPLETED, available to read (though i still need to edit it)

Into the Dead of Night (2023)

Summary: It’s the summer of 1877, the ending years of the American Frontier, and three lives are changed forever. A former slave turned poor cowpoke struggles to reconcile with his past mistakes, an immigrant with the voice of an angel finds love atop a horse and comradery among cowboys, and a seasoned cowgirl from an endangered tribe ventures out to take back what belongs to her. With manifest destiny on the rise and the string of murders leading back to the man who started it all, Bellamy has a choice to make: keep running or stop the trail of bodies in his wake.

Format: podcast

Genre: western, historical fiction, audio drama

Themes: magical realism, hope, family, love, friendship, identity, community, justice

Inspo: playlist & pinterest board

Status: WIP, written the first few episodes of season one

Deadwood (2023)

Summary: Eldritch horrors, ghosts, immortal entities, losing the ones you love, and the inherent humanity in survival.

Format: podcast

Genre: horror anthology

Themes: grief, hope, survival, death, love

Inspo: playlist & pinterest board

Status: WIP, written the first seven episodes of season one (1 story out of 9)

Let’s Live Anyway (2023)

Summary: After going to the surface to their war-torn world on their 18th birthday and experiencing the side effects of radiation poisoning, Claudia and Lex seriously contemplate taking their lives and grapple with what lead them into their suicide pact

Format: graphic novel

Genre: coming of age

Themes: hope, friendship, grief

Inspo: playlist & pinterest board

Status: WIP, brainstorming

Eve, Undone (2023)

Summary: *coming soon*

Format: novella trilogy

Genre: high fantasy

Themes: corruption, environmentalism, freedom, friendship, love, family, grief, hope, war

Inspo: playlist & pinterest board

Status: WIP, outlining + worldbuilding

The End of All Things (2023)

Summary: On the last day of senior year before summer vacation, the world ends. But that doesn’t matter because Veronica is in love with her best friend Ace, and no space meteors are gonna stop her from telling her how she feels

Format: short film

Genre: young adult, contemporary, apocalypse 

Themes: friendship

Inspo: playlist & pinterest board

Status: WIP, brainstorming

[anarcho-occultism]

Tracy Jordan

Tracy Jordan (1966-March 17, 2026) was an American actor and musician active from 1978 until his death. Jordan was born in Yankee Stadium and, owing to both the unusual location and the simultaneous focus on the arrival of the world-eater Galactus by most public officials, was not officially issued a birth certificate. Jordan grew up in the Knuckle Beach neighborhood of the Bronx, which was infamous for high crime rates and general dysfunction. The Cult of Quetzalcoatl regularly abducted sacrifice victims from the neighborhood, a fate which Jordan only narrowly avoided on at least two occasions. Owing to his family’s precarious financial situation, Jordan eventually dropped out of high school and relied on sporadic odd jobs such as acting as a busboy at the legally dubious ‘McDowell’s’ restaurant in Long Island. Jordan longed for bigger things, however, being drawn to acting after a chance encounter with actor Charles Hayden Savage while he was filming an episode of Brazzos. Jordan was able to become a cast member on the short-lived show Ray Ray’s Mystery Garage which aired on IBC from 1978 to 1980. Once the show ended, Jordan became a street performer who specialized in basket drumming for cash on the streets of New York City.

Jordan’s ultimate break would not come until 1984. That year, Jordan heard about the Apollo Theater’s Amateur Night and decided to perform stand-up during it. During the performance, Jordan proved popular with the audience which happened to include prominent comedian Jonathan Crunk. Crunk, viewing Jordan as having potential, took him under his wing and was able to get him his first big breakthrough of adulthood by joining the cast of Studio 60 in the 1987-1988 season. Jordan was a cast member on the show for over a decade, during which he played many notable roles. During the Gulf War and Eugenics Wars, Jordan regularly portrayed General Warren Boutwell giving bombastic and at times derailed press conferences and continued to depict him after Boutwell exited the military to start a restaurant. He also participated in many parodies of the children’s show Mr. Robinson’s Neighborhood, including an infamous sketch where he portrayed the eponymous Robinson vandalizing the setting of My Friendly Neighborhood to reduce completion. Jordan additionally played a camera operator in Studio 60’s infamous Gordy’s Home sketch, which was never aired after the original airing in 1998. Jordan attracted praise for many of his performances and was able to leverage his new status to advance his career further.

Jordan began his music career in this time, intially mainly recording novelty songs in the vein of the late ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic. However, Jordan soon sought to branch away from this. He joined the Lethal Interjection Crew in 1994 but left two years later after a falling out with its leader Thugnificent. Jordan released several rap singles throughout the 1990’s but was never able to release a full album which thus prevented him from earning full-fledged stardom in the world of music. Jordan also acted in several B-movies during this era, including Cleaver II, Who Dat Ninja, Rescue Bay: The Movie, Hard to Watch, Angels With the Filthiest Souls and The Crows Have Eyes, as well as several episodes of the Night Springs revival. Jordan also dabbled in voice acting, primarily in English dubs of Japanese anime series thanks to connections with Japanese production companies he formed while filming Samurai I Amurai. Jordan notably participated in the English dubs of Tinymon, Pink Dark Boy and Mew Mew Kissie Cutie (a performance which was widely panned and Jordan claims was done ‘to buy a vacation house’). Jordan also got married during this time to Angie Shepherd, though initially he refused to acknowledge the marriage to maintain a playboy public image.

In 1999, Jordan expressed disappointment he was stuck with B-movies and comedies and announced he was quitting in favor of directing, announcing his first project would be a serious. biopic of President Douglass Dilman with he himself in the role of the nation’s first African-American president. However production hit snags quickly. Jordan had not asked the Dilman family for permission to make such a film and a spokesman denounced the idea of Jordan making such a movie. He additionally announced his friend Vincent Chase had been cast as a member of Dilman’s Secret Service detail before Chase committed to the role and the two had a falling out when Chase publicly said he had never signed on to the role. The production ground to a halt when his executive producer (who de facto was a second director) Roman Bridger was killed after becoming yet another in the infamous chain of Ghostface murderers. Despite this, Jordan continued to try to go through with the film, pouring much of his own money to salvage it, but in the end His Accidency would never make it to audiences.

Some have suggested the erratic behavior Jordan began displaying in the 2000’s was a result of frustration his more serious artistic intentions were blocked. It has been suggested Jordan’s infamous 2003 trip to Wadiya and public embrace of the nation’s dictator Haffaz Aladeen was a scheme to try to get money from Aladeen to sustain his movie. During the 2001 dot com recession, Jordan expressed a positive attitude towards the infamous Project Mayhem, drawing widespread criticism. Jordan also, on multiple occasions, assaulted paparazzi with various improvised weapons, including a prop from the original Galaxy Wars that Jordan had purchased for $2 million at a charity auction. These controversies caused significant damage to Jordan’s career and by the mid-2000’s, Jordan was nearly bankrupt and struggled to find work. However, he was able to secure a leading role in the sketch comedy series The Girly Show in 2006, which subsequently was rebranded as TGS With Tracy Jordan and took on a renewed life as a program no longer solely targeting a female audience. Jordan did continue to draw controversy–a PSA where he told African-Americans ‘don’t vote’ aired three times before Jordan requested it be taken off the air–but it did enable a greater deal of stability. Jordan was able to have the financial security to pursue a more stable interest in his hobbies such as American history, a passion he picked up after learning of his descent from Thomas Jefferson and his slave Sally Hemmings. He played a crucial role in funding the team that debunked the claims of the so-called ‘Washingtonians’ clan of cannibals that they were descended from George Washington. During Jordan’s time on TGS also involved recurring feuds with co-star Jenna Maroney, though the two would ultimately leave the show on amicable terms. Jordan’s career arguably peaked in this time period as he ultimately became an EGOT winner after winning all 4 of the entertainment industry’s most prestigious awards.

After the conclusion of the show, Jordan once again developed a controversial reputation. After the Awakening of Magic, Jordan would begin to espouse a number of human supremacist sentiments. He would be temporarily banned from The Circle after calling for killing vampire celebrity Lestat de Lioncourt and the expulsion of Prince Krel of Akiridion from Earth after he criticized Jordan’s comments. Jordan also was temporarily arrested after egging Justin Russo following his election as President of the Magical Congress of the United States in 2015. Jordan would announce a presidential bid on a human supremacist–but otherwise rather left-wing–platform in 2016, though he failed to obtain ballot access and was only able to earn status as a write-in in the states of New York, Illinois and Winnemac. Beyond this political drift, Jordan also was dogged by more mundane celebrity scandals. Jordan got into a physical altercation with pop musician Connor4Real in 2014 that led to him being hospitalized with a broken pinkie. His wife’s reality show Queen of Jordan drew controversy for an episode where the Jordans insisted on continuing a California vacation even in the midst of a kaiju attack which was accused of encouraging dangerous behavior by the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps. Jordan did begin to calm down after his personal physician, Dr. Leo Spaceman, was arrested for helping manufacture Substance-D and Jordan revealed Spaceman had been giving him some of the said substance while claiming it was vitalizing medicine, a factor helping drive his erratic tendencies.

Citing a desire for more privacy, Jordan would move to Canada in 2019, where he remained through the COVID-19, Kongoli flu and Alvin virus outbreaks. Jordan was thus not in the US when the President’s Day Massacre occurred and installed David Jefferson Adams as President. Jordan denounced the coup attempt and expressed support for the efforts of the Left Eye and other groups to violently resist the far-right takeover of America, causing a rift between him and his old employer Jack Donaghy (who, while opposed to the coup attempt, favored a strategy of nonviolent resistance). Jordan announced another bid for the presidency in 2024 and gained some traction after the Adams-stacked court disqualified Governor Georgina Hobart from consideration. Jordan announced former Republican Senator Alex Keaton as his running mate and was, surprisingly, allowed to run by the Adams regime, though Adams’ allies within the New Founding Fathers movement likely only did so presuming Jordan’s status as a de facto exile and history of erratic behavior would weaken his chances. Jordan would officially received 12% of the popular vote and won a faithless elector from the state of Vermont who defected and voted for Jordan after another elector was arrested for voting for the state’s socialist former Senator Julian Felsenburgh. Jordan would remain in Canada for the rest of his life, as his poor physical health meant that when a resurgence of the Kongoli flu occurred in 2026, it proved to be a fatal infection. Jordan died on the same die as his TGS co-star Maroney, who also died of Kongoli flu in New York City–in an eerie parallel to Jordan’s ancestor Thomas Jefferson and his rival/friend John Adams.

References

30 Rock, Marvel Comics (The Coming of Galactus, ), Q: The Serpent God, Coming to America, Only Murders in the Building, Scrooged, Carter’s Army, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Star Trek, Undercover Brother, Saturday Night Live, My Friendly Neighborhood, Nope, Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, The Boondocks, The Sopranos, Baywatch, Home Alone, Schitt’s Creek, Alan Wake, Johnny Test, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Undertale, The Man, Entourage, Scream, The Dictator, Fight Club, iCarly, Masters of Horror, Shadowrun, Interview With The Vampire, 3Below, Wizards of Waverly Place, Harry Potter, Works of Sinclair Lewis, Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping, Pacific Rim, A Scanner Darkly, The End of October, The Sadness, The Handmaid’s Tale, Shattered Union, Sorry to Bother You, The Politician, Family Ties, The Purge, Lord of the World

[ausetkmt]

Atlas of African-American History

Click the title to download for free on Z-Lib

Building on the authoritative text of the first edition, ''Atlas of African-American History, Revised Edition'' chronicles the important cultural, historical, political, and social experiences of African Americans through the years.

Completely updated and revised, this fascinating book features numerous full-color maps - 18 of which are new - that engage readers with easy-to-grasp facts, figures, and images of everyday life. Ten new black-and-white photographs, eight new full-color photographs, and four line illustrations enliven the text.

Coverage includes: The dramatic 1839 journey of the Amistad, including its successful slave rebellion; The labor activism of Albert and Lucy Parsons, an interracial couple who led the eight-hour-day movement and the national railroad strike; The accomplishments of Matthew Henson, who, with Robert Peary, discovered the North Pole in 1909; The post - World War II influences that drove the economic rise of a new black middle class; analysis of how the cultural contributions of writers, actors, athletes, musicians, and other artists helped define American culture during the 1960s and 1970s; The rise of hip-hop and rap from a local South Bronx phenomenon into a powerful industry capable of launching other businesses.

The coverage also includes: Demographic profiles of the health, education, employment, income, spending habits, homeownership, and other benchmarks of African Americans, as well as how these compare with those of other Americans; The powerful role of theater, comedy, TV, and film in presenting and shaping the image of African Americans from the mid-1970s to the mid-1990s; and The persistent social, racial, and economic issues that still confront America, as highlighted by Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans.

[lboogie1906]

Stacey Lauretta Dash (born January 20, 1967) is an actress. She played Dionne Marie Davenport in Clueless and its television series of the same name. She has appeared in the films Moving, Mo' Money, Renaissance Man, and View from the Top. Other television work includes appearances in the series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Single Ladies, and Celebrity Circus. She has appeared in music videos for Carl Thomas' "Emotional" and Kanye West's "All Falls Down". Girl,". Born in the Bronx, he is the daughter of Dennis Dash and Linda Dash. Her brother is Darien Dash, who is the founder of DME Interactive. Her cousin is Damon Dash, the former CEO and co-founder of Roc-A-Fella Records. She made her first television appearance in Farrell: For the People. Her first notable appearance was as Michelle on The Cosby Show. Her first substantial television role was in TV 101. Her first major film role was in Moving. She starred in Illegal in Blue. She appeared in View from the Top, Gang of Roses, and Getting Played. She has appeared in small guest roles on television shows such as Eve, and CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. She posed nude in the August 2006 issue of Playboy. She launched a lingerie line called Letters of Marque. She completed filming roles in I Could Never Be Your Woman, Nora's Hair Salon II, Fashion Victim, Ghost Image, and American Primitive. She filmed Phantom Punch, Secrets of a Hollywood Nurse, and Close Quarters. She performed in Celebrity Circus. She appeared as a recurring character in The Game. She starred in Dysfunctional Friends. She was featured in Funny or Die and the web series Stacey Dash Is Normal. She had been hired as a contributor for "cultural analysis and commentary." After several controversial comments, it was announced that her contract would not be renewed. She married producer Brian Lovell (1999- 2005), married British executive James Maby (2005-2006), married actor Emmanuel Xeureb (2007-2011), and married lawyer Jeffrey Marty (2008-2020). She has two children. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence https://www.instagram.com/p/CnozXm1LgsF/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

COMMEMORATING 40 YEARS OF A CULT/AMERICAN/HIP-HOP CLASSIC -- RELEASED THIS MONTH, 40 YEARS AGO.

PIC INFO: Resolution at 2409x3084 -- Spotlight on FAB 5 FREDDY (Far right) and ROCK Steady members in front of the now world famous "Wild Style" mural by Zephyr, Revolt, & Sharp, c. 1982. 📸: Martha Cooper.

MINI-OVERVIEW: ""I feel very humbled by the fact this film has lasted in the hearts and minds of so many for so long,” says Grandmaster Caz, who starred in "Wild Style." “I’m awed and flattered by the influence the movie has had on so many and it sits as a testament to those of us who dedicated our hearts, spirits and efforts to this culture now called Hip Hop.”

Ahearn tapped into the psyche of NYC’s youth when he shot on location in the South Bronx and downtown as the story unfolded around a tagger named Zoro (Lee Quiñones). He worked with real subway/street artists, B-boys, MCs and emerging turntablists, who shaped the future by just being themselves. Among other all-city innovators and rockers on-screen: Grand Master Flash, Busy Bee, the Cold Crush Brothers, Sandra “Lady Pink” Fabara, the Rock Steady Crew and Fab 5 Freddy. Unlike today, there was no YouTube to push your product, no corporate sponsors or studio backing.

“We were way out there without any visible funding … development was done in a complete vacuum,” Ahearn tells Tania Fuentez Media ahead of Monday’s celebration. “Everyone was worried it (Hip Hop) was gonna be a fad, it would disappear or people would forget about it. This was in the fall of 1980 when I was talking with people about making the film … of course, it never disappeared.”

Continuing, he reflects: “The film acted as a kind of statement of Hip Hop … most people didn’t know what it looked like or felt like. I am very proud of the vibe we caught in the movie. It may get a little sentimental with Lee and Lady Pink or it may get a little funny with Fred or Busy Bee, but it was real.""

-- TANIA FUENTEZ MEDIA (wordpress)

Source: https://taniafuentez.wordpress.com/2013/08/25/art-why-wild-style-still-matters-30-years-later.

[adamwatchesmovies]

1990: The Bronx Warriors (1982)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

I watched 1990: The Bronx Warriors as part of my exploration of the “Road Warrior Post-Apocalyptic” genre. For the most part, the various imitators and derivatives have been aping the Mad Max franchise. This is the first time I’ve seen “inspiration” principally drawn from the other two establishing films of the genre: Escape from New York and The Warriors. The results are one of the most uninteresting and cheap attempts I’ve seen so far.

In (the then futuristic) year 1990, New York’s Bronx is dominated by crime and declared a No Man’s Land. The police have given up all attempts to bring order to the raving biker gangs who roam the streets. Ann (Stefania Girolami), the 17-year-old heiress to the nefarious Manhattan corporation runs to the lawless wasteland to hide from the responsibilities she will soon inherit. There, she befriends The Riders and their leader, Trash (Marco Di Gregorio). To get the woman back to the boardroom where she belongs, the Manhattan Corporation hires a mercenary named Hammer (Vic Morrow) to do anything it takes.

It begins as a thinly veiled rip-off of John Carpenter’s memorable action film and then turns into a cheaper, lazier, and endlessly duller version of Walter Hill’s cult-classic. You go in assuming this will be a cheap film; the other Post-Apocalyptic adventures didn’t exactly have big budgets. Even so, this is inexcusable. This film is too low-grade to deliver even the mildest form of vehicular carnage, which is a shame because the Warriors’ – I mean the Riders’ – motorcycles look so flimsy you know they’d fly in a million pieces if they hit even a medium-sized pothole. I’m not joking when I say it looks like they bought a bunch of Halloween decorations – on November 1st when they’re heavily discounted- and then glue-gunned them onto the steering wheel of their motorcycles.

The performances are horrible and the actors are made to look even worse by the ADR. Everyone’s all mush-mouthed, and with the home release’s lack of subtitles, you’ll struggle to understand what anyone is saying. Had this plot had any kind of substance or complexity to it, you’d be completely lost. Nonetheless, you keep watching, hoping there will be some cool stunts or hand-to-hand combat scenes to make this effort worth your time. Your hope is in vain.

The only way to draw enjoyment from 1990: The Bronx Warriors is by making fun of it. Even so, it doesn’t have much to offer. It’s agonizingly dull and so obviously devoid of any kind of passion, enthusiasm or effort. The one thing that might bring a smile to your face are some of the characters’ names and the art direction. If it seems as though I’m grasping at straws, I am but how could you not laugh at characters named Hotdog (Christopher Connelly), Witch (Elisabetta Dessy), The Ogre (Fred Williamson), Ice (John Loffredo) and… Paul (Rocco Lero)? Some of the random gangs receive given quirks that make them mildly diverting, such as a group of mimes who perform a coordinated dance, but those add nothing to the story. It’s a flat picture, obviously shot in a run-down neighbourhood. It drains the life out of you.

I suffered through 1990: The Bronx Warriors so you wouldn’t have to. There’s no reason to see this, even if you enjoy the stories it’s shamelessly burglarizing. I didn’t think it could get any worse than Exterminators from the Year 3000, but here we are. To survive these films, I’m going to have to set the bar way lower than expected. This Italian production has not one, but two sequels and I can’t imagine either being any better than this. (On DVD, August 4, 2018)

[lilad03-blog]

Daniel Grimaldi: Actor, Scholar & Scientist

     Daniel Grimaldi was born in 1946 and is an American actor and mathematics professor who is best known for his roles as twins Philly and Patsy Parisi on the award winning HBO television series The Sopranos. 

     While researching this piece, I wasn’t sure if all the dates synched up over on the Forever Fordham site? If what I read was true, he started Fordham at an age when most of us were sophomores in high school. 

Entered Fordham University at 16 Years of Age

     “I attended Xaverian High School in Brooklyn.” The obviously very bright, ambitious  powerhouse explained, “I was sixteen when I graduated. I received several scholarships

(including) a full one to Fordham. Many of my classmates were going.”

     He was a Screen Actors Guild award winner, in 2008, for Outstanding Performance by an Ensemble in a Drama Series for The Sopranos. He opened up about his college experiences at the Rose Hill Bronx campus by saying: “I commuted by train. One hour and forty five minutes each way. In my sophomore and junior year a friend drove. But often I would have to take the train because our schedules did not jell. In senior year I used my father's car,” added the 5 foot-4 inch dedicated alumni. “My family couldn't afford the room & board. One of the few regrets I have in life is not living on campus.”

Don’t Go In The House!

     His first break came in 1979 as the star of the above titled independent horror film. It is described as “A young man who was driven mad by the death of his abusive mother now stalks young women with a flamethrower.” 

Note: I’ve watched, and yes it is as nasty as it sounds. If you are interested, here is the YouTube link-be careful: r. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kxmz1vjCOk4&t=6s

Bell Laboratories Scientist

     Doctor Daniel Grimaldi went on to complete a Master of Science in Operations Research from NYU and a  PhD in Data Processing from City University of New York. That early IMDb.com credit above was in 1979. It sounded like those 13 years between might have been filled with working on your Master's degree and PhD? Turns out there was more to his development before being bit-by-the-acting-bug. 

     “Acting was not a thought. It just popped into my mind when I worked at Bell Labs as a member of technical staff in computer graphics.” I looked up archived copies of the University newspapers (The Ram) and did NOT see any productions that mentioned his name. It turns out he didn’t perform in any collegiate shows/plays. He added, “I went to study with Lee Strasberg (starting) in 1970.”

            (aveleyman.com)

Let’s Get To The Quote: “It won’t be cinematic.”

     For those who haven’t seen the episode, on The Sopranos, from all those years ago-let me set the scene. New Jersey Mob Boss Tony Soprano has one of his many adulterous love affairs. This time he meets Gloria. Who is pretty, a successful Mercedes Car sales rep and a bit of a world traveler. The two meet in the waiting of the mutual psychiatrist, accidentally due to a scheduling mix-up. After a point, Tony wants to end it. Gloria  not only wants to be part of the gangster’s life she even goes so far as to make contact with his wife. (Oh girlfriend, you can do so much better.)     

     He sends Patsy Parisi, our boy Dan-Class of ‘66-to scare her away while ostensibly test driving a car. Away from the protection of her suburban New Jersey dealership, he pulls over: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GCQnTPF4_o

Note: Between now and posting of this article I can’t afford to have YouTube delete this one. So, basically he pulls out a gun and points it at her. Warns her to distance herself from Soprano and his family or she will be dead; by his hand. No ancient Greek tragedy or retired NFL Quarterback stuff for her to go on to the next world on.  

Got To Have A Side-Hustle

     I didn’t get a definitive answer, from the Assistant Professor Mathematics & Computer Science at Kingsborough Community College, in Brooklyn, when I asked if “It Won’t Be Cinematic”will be on your tombstone? But I did get a smile.

Can We Make It A Point to Carry His Name Forward?

      Here is a post from the 78 year old Fordham Alumni; His request on the Instagram Account where you can follow him too.

References

[mcbastardsmausoleum]

HIGH CRIME (1973) 3-Disc Limited Edition 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray + CD arrives August 27, 2024 from Blue Underground

Label: Blue Underground

Duration: 103 Minutes

Rating: Unrated

Region Code: Region-Free

Video: Dolby Vision HDR 2160p Ultra HD Widescreen (1.85:1), 1080p HD Widescreen (1.85:1)

Audio: English: 1.0 DTS-HD MA; Italian: 1.0 DTS-HD MA with Optional English SDH, Français, Español, English for Italian Audio Subtitles

Director: Enzo G. Castellari

Cast: Franco Nero, Fernando Rey, James Whitmore, Delia Boccardo

In the Tradition of THE FRENCH CONNECTION

Franco Nero (DJANGO) gives his most powerful performance as Commissioner Belli, a head-strong Italian cop who uncovers brutal murders in Genoa linked to Europe's lucrative heroin trade. When Belli and his family become targets, the obsessive cop turns up the heat in his fight to take down the smugglers importing the deadly dope from France. How much will Commissioner Belli sacrifice to bust the Marseille Connection?

Fernando Rey (COMPANEROS), James Whitmore (THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION), and Delia Boccardo (TENTACLES) co-star in this violent, action-packed crime thriller from Co-Writer/Director Enzo G. Castellari (STREET LAW). Blue Underground is proud to present the complete, uncensored version of HIGH CRIME (LA POLIZIA INCRIMINA, LA LEGGE ASSOLVE) from a brand-new 2024 Dolby Vision HDR 4K master, loaded with hours of exclusive Extras, for the first time ever in America!

Special Features:

Disc 1 (4K UHD Blu-ray) Feature Film + Extras:

- Audio Commentary #1 with Co-Writer/Director Enzo G. Castellari

- Audio Commentary #2 with Star Franco Nero and Filmmaker Mike Malloy

- Audio Commentary #3 with Film Historians Troy Howarth, Nathaniel Thompson and Eugenio Ercolani

- Alternate Ending

- Theatrical Trailer

Disc 2 (Blu-ray) Feature Film + Extras:

- Audio Commentary #1 with Co-Writer/Director Enzo G. Castellari

- Audio Commentary #2 with Star Franco Nero and Filmmaker Mike Malloy

- Audio Commentary #3 with Film Historians Troy Howarth, Nathaniel Thompson and Eugenio Ercolani

- The Genoa Connection – Interviews with Director Enzo G. Castellari and Star Franco Nero

- From Dust To Asphalt – Interview with Director Enzo G. Castellari

- Hard Stunts For High Crimes – Interview with Actor/Stuntman Massimo Vanni

- Framing Crime – Interview with Camera Operator Roberto Girometti

- The Sound Of Onions – Interview with Composers Guido and Maurizio De Angelis

- The Connection Connection – Featurette by EUROCRIME! Director Mike Malloy

- Alternate Ending

- Theatrical Trailer

- Poster & Still Gallery

Disc 3 (CD):

- HIGH CRIME Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by Guido and Maurizio De Angelis (with EXCLUSIVE Bonus Track)

Sell Points:

- Enzo G. Castellari’s violent, action-packed crime thriller arrives in America for the FIRST TIME EVER!

- WORLD PREMIERE! Brand-new 2024 4K master of the complete uncensored version

- UHD features 2160p Ultra HD Resolution and Dolby Vision HDR, with DTS-HD Master Audio

- Blu-ray features 1080p HD Resolution, with DTS-HD Master Audio

- Fully loaded with hours of exclusive Extras!

- Limited Collector’s Edition includes 4K UHD Blu-ray, Blu-ray, Soundtrack CD with Exclusive Bonus Track, reversible sleeve, and embossed slipcover (First Pressing Only)

- National Print Advertising and extensive Online Exposure

- Directed by Enzo G. Castellari (STREET LAW, 1990: THE BRONX WARRIORS)

- Starring Franco Nero (DJANGO, ENTER THE NINJA), Fernando Rey (COMPANEROS, THE FRENCH CONNECTION), Academy Award nominee James Whitmore (GIVE ‘EM HELL, HARRY!, THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION), Delia Boccardo (TENTACLES, HERCULES)

- Features a killer soundtrack by Guido and Maurizio De Angelis (TORSO, THE BIG RACKET)

- In the tradition of THE FRENCH CONNECTION, DIRTY HARRY, and BULLITT

Film Reviews:

“An Extraordinary Film… One Of The Best Examples Of Poliziotteschi Cinema!” – 10K Bullets

“A Top Tier Poliziotteschi… Full Of Impressive Action Sequences!” – Backseat Mafia

“A Masterpiece… As Good As 70s Italian Crime Movies Get!” – Rare Cult Cinema

“Franco Nero Delivers An Incredibly High Octane Performance!” – The Geek Show

[dankusner]

Recalling Meryl Streep’s “Half-Assed Genuflection”

To her friends, Sister Margaret McEntee, of the Sisters of Charity of New York, is Sister Peggy.

In 1956, when she was a twenty-one-year-old rookie teacher at St. Anthony School, in the Bronx, she was Sister James, a name that she shed in the late sixties, after the reforms of the Second Vatican Council.

Among her first graders was a shy kid named Johnny.

“Every day, he’d raise his hand: ‘May I sharpen my pencil?’ ” she recalled recently. “The pencil sharpener was at the end of four windows, and he watched everybody going by. Finally, I said, ‘Johnny, you don’t have to sharpen your pencil. You just want to see what’s going on out there!’ ”

Decades later, in 2004, Sister Margaret found out that her former student, John Patrick Shanley, had written a play called “Doubt,” in which a young nun named Sister James, who teaches in the Bronx, is torn between a charismatic priest, Father Flynn, and her rigid supervisor, Sister Aloysius, who suspects the priest of molesting a schoolboy.

Sister Margaret attended a performance Off Broadway, and Shanley nervously watched her watch his rendering of her younger self.

“It’s magnificent,” she told him.

She saw the play again when it moved to Broadway, and met with Meryl Streep and Amy Adams when Shanley turned it into a film.

“They would sit together with the habit on, and they’d be knitting,” Sister Margaret recalled of the two actors. “I said, ‘Oh, I knit,’ and I used to bring my baby booties over. The three of us, we had this little knitting circle.”

Streep thanked her by name when she won the SAG Award.

“Doubt” is now back on Broadway, in a Roundabout revival, and Sister Margaret, a cheery, chatty eighty-eight-year-old, had once again met with the cast, including Zoe Kazan, who plays Sister James.

“They always pick a good-looking young actress to play me,” Sister Margaret boasted.

She sat in a former novitiate, now an administrative building on the Riverdale campus of the University of Mount St. Vincent, which the Sisters of Charity founded as a women’s academy, in 1847.

(About sixty Sisters live in the on-site convent, and the “Doubt” film was shot at the chapel.)

Sister Margaret had seen the revival two nights earlier, but some thirty Sisters were about to catch the Saturday matinée.

They boarded a chartered bus, wearing cardigans and trousers and blazers.

“Doubt” is set in 1964, when the Sisters still wore black robes and bonnets, but the order abandoned the habit in the late sixties, post-Vatican II, to be more accessible to the community.

Many had short white hair and spoke in honking New York accents.

Sister Donna Dodge, the order’s current president, had enjoyed the movie, but was critical of Streep’s “half-assed genuflection.”

In the sixties, there were more than a thousand Sisters in New York, but their number has dwindled to a hundred and forty, with a median age of eighty-five.

Last spring, after two decades in which no new members had joined, the Sisters voted to take a “path of completion,” meaning that they will let the order, which began in 1817, die out with them.

“We prayed about it, and then we asked people to vote, and it was unanimous,” Sister Donna said.

Laypeople will continue to run their ministries, including a housing program and a home for foster children.

The Sisters, meanwhile, will put their affairs in order while they’re still spry enough—a task akin to drawing up a will.

“Women have a lot more opportunities to serve in whatever way they want,” Sister Donna noted. “It’s just not an attractive life style, for some reason.”

“If you don’t deal with this sort of behavior quickly, it can spread to the rest of the flock.”

They arrived at the theatre and filed through metal detectors.

After the show, they convened in an upstairs lounge and snacked on pretzels.

The play had brought back memories of the old days.

“The whole idea of ‘the priest is always right,’ ” one Sister said. “Sisters had a place and shouldn’t overstep their boundaries.”

Another found the bows on the actors’ bonnets “a little droopy.”

The cast emerged from the elevators, to cheers.

Kazan, who had changed into a T-shirt and ripped jeans, hugged Sister Donna and said, “I’m so moved that you guys all came.”

Someone asked her to sign a Playbill.

The nuns had strong feelings about Sister Aloysius, played by Amy Ryan.

“She was such a bitch!” one salty Sister told Kazan. “I felt very bad for you.”

They took a group photo; Liev Schreiber, who plays Father Flynn, towered above the Sisters.

“Was your cap tight on your ear?” Sister Mary Sugrue, who joined in 1955, asked Kazan.

“It itches sometimes,” she confessed.

They traded notes: Kazan used part of a milk jug to stiffen her bonnet; Sister Mary had used a Clorox bottle.

“I keep thinking, Sister James is a nun even on her day off,” Kazan said. “She’s always got to wear this habit.”

“It took a while for that to change,” Sister Mary said. “Then they allowed us to wear white habits in the summertime, which was much better.”