#Cameron has a shark gun it's great

[rarestdoge]

This goes on main bc I keep thinking about it fjejrjr

[theobxhummingbird]

Unreachable (Chapter 2)

(credits to owner) (A JJ Maybank and Nova Fleming love story)

While Kiara Carrera was pacing back and forth, Nova took the time to calmly work on her perfumes. The girl was so disappointed at her father, for cutting off her friend's earnings, that she couldn't do anything but say too many sorrys to Nova. -I'll talk to him when I get home. He can't just do something like that, because you were late for five minutes. -Kie, -Nova raised her head to look at her, -you promised not to interfere. I told you because you wanted to know. Your dad has the right to cut off and add in on his worker's earnings. And that doesn't mean opposite for me, just because I'm your friend. So please don't make me regret telling you. -Fine, let's say I didn't tell him, -said Kie, -but what if he keeps doing it, not only to you, but to everyone else? -First of all, sit down, I see you doubled, my head's dizzy and second of all he won't because I won't be late anymore. -Okay, let's not talk about my dad anymore, -she sat down as Nova told her, -tell me the other news. -That is even messier, I guarantee you. -said Nova. She started talking about the showering she lived the day before. And while she was talking Kie's face had a slight surprise, until Nova told her what she did to the car, Kie's eyes widened and he mouth dropped to the floor. -You did what?!  Nova, what-how-um-that is so not your action. -she stuttered. -I know, but I guess anger took over me and I couldn't anymore? -she answered as Kie shook her head. -What? -Nothing...just...I am surprised. What did he look like? Have you seen him around OBX? -No, I have no clue on who he is. -she nodded her head. -Maybe it was Rafe...no, but what will he do at the Wreck. -Kie put her thinking mode on, tapping the cement with her foot. -Hmm...tell me what he looks like, maybe I know him. -Let's close this topic and never open it again, because I'll explode. -Nova shoved the perfumes in the box, putting the away in the glass cupboard. -Tell me, how was your day? -Adventurous. We took the HMS Pogue for a ride and something happened...-she tried to find words; obvious that there's something she's hiding, -The boys and I had to visit a place and yeah, that was it. Nothing much actually. -Great, great. -said Nova, not getting into detail. -There's a kegger tonight, mind coming? -I don't know... -Don't say you're busy, because I know you aren't. You'll get to meet my friends as well, it'll be fun. -Fine Kiara, I'll go this time. -Awesome, I'm telling the guys. -she took out her phone, and texted the groupchat.

Kiara dragged Nova to her house, so they could get ready together. She took out her entire wardrobe and placed it on her bed. -Choose. -she said, hands on her hips. -What do you mean 'choose'? -Choose an outfit that you'll wear. -I'll just wear this, no big deal. -she looked at her clothes. -No way, you need to make a first impression. They boys need to see a lady. -Kie, why are you complicating it? Let's just go, if you're changing I'm waiting here. -Okay, I'm going then. Nova waited for Kie and when she was ready, they both went to the Boneyard. The party had already started. -Hey, John B. -said Kie, giving him a hug. -This is Nova. -Nice to finally meet you Nova. -he shook her hand. -Nice to meet you too. Kie and Nova, sat with John B, until Pope came along and introduced himself. The Boneyard started to fill with more people. -All right, -spoke John B, -you can't understand the Outer Banks, without understanding the Boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layered burrito. There's us and our friends, the working-class derelicts. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They're mostly from poncey-ass boarding schools, just rich trustfarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless. Here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks. -Love the summary, thank you. -said Nova. Nova was enjoying the view of the water, while Kie and John B  were minding their own business. Pope was talking to her from time to time. -Virgos are like,so organized. -said Kie to a guy, -Like,all my friends that are Virgos are like--- -It's kinda weird when on TV, we see people die, and they just kinda sit there, but in actuality, they would be shitting and farting up a storm. -Pope said to Nova. She sat, nodding her head cluelessly. -Mm-hm...don't understand it, but I love that you shared this information with me. -she said. -What is she doing here? -Kie said suddenly, as Nova turned to see what she's talking about. -That's Sarah Cameron.Kook princess. -John B said to Nova. -I know, I clean the Cameron house. - Oh really. She was Kiara's best friend in the ninth grade, worst enemy in the tenth grade. I work on her dad's boats, so, you know, I've seen her around. -he glued his look to her. As he observed Sarah Cameron, a blonde guy approached her way. -Then that's Topper, -he sighed, -her not so pleasant boyfriend. -Why not pleasant? -Nova laughed. -He thinks Pogues were bred to mow lawns. -Where did he read that, jeez? They all shared a laugh and enjoyed the kegger; Nova refusing every cup of beer the three of them offered her. The moon had popped up above the water, while the crowd had fun at the kegger. -John B! -somebody said. -What are you doing? -John B approached him. From the crowd, Nova couldn't see who it was, so she stood next to Pope and Kie; them being the only ones she knows. -I got this for you. -he handed him a red, plastic cup of beer. -Yeah, I'll take a sip. -said John B, reaching for the cup, when JJ turned around. -Oh wait. Hey, hey. Hey, Sarah! -he said. -Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage? -No, thanks. -she held onto Topper's hand. -Come on, is it not fancy enough for you? -No. We were just leaving. -Hey, you know what? I'll take it. -said Topper, -I'll--Thank you, man. I appreciate it. -That's nice, but I didn't ask you. If you said pretty please, maybe, but you didn't. -John B tried to push the blonde from him. -Oh, pretty please. -Yeah. Sarah? You can have it. -Pretty please? Topper wacked the beverage out of his hands, splashing it on his face, -She doesn't want it, you-- -Okay! -said Sarah. The blonde caught him by the collar, but John B was quick  to pull him away. Nova, Kie and Pope all got up to see what's happening. Nova's face dropped into a million pieces, at the view of the boy next to John B. -Him--- -No no no no. -said John B. -You're so funny, man. -Hey. -said John B, trying to calm him down. -Dirty Pogues! -yelled Topper, John B grunted and pushed him away. -John B! -yelled Pope. -I don't feel that this is good. -said Nova. -Because it isn't! -said Kie. -Babe, babe, babe, babe, babe--said Sarah, trying to stop Topper, but his swings his fist and hits John B's face. The crowd gasps and Nova and Kie get closer to where Pope was stood. -Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right? As the crowd yelled 'fight', Nova's whole stomach was tied in knots; the one time she ever lets go of her fear, everything has to turn bad. John B stood from the water, hitting Topper, both of them falling in it. -John B let go, man! -yelled Pope. -Stop, you guys! -said Kie, turning her head for help. -Topper!Stop! -That's what I'm talking about! Come on! -yelled the blonde, as they kept punching each other. -Oh my god...-said Nova. Suddenly, they punched their way to the water and Topper holds John B's head under water, drowning him. -Topper! -said Sarah. -Topper, stop, no! The blonde paced around, trying to think of a way to help his best friend. -He's drowning him! -said Pope to Kie and Nova. -I know! -said Kie, totally helpless. A gun safety clicks and the blonde holds a cold weapon to Topper's head. -Yeah, you know what that is. You move, broski. -Come on. Chill, dude. -said Sarah. -JJ! JJ. The blonde from the Wreck; totally understandable of why Nova wasn't surprised of his action. -Chill. -Stop! JJ! -Put the gun down. -Sarah tried to yell at the top of her lungs. -Did you say something, princess? -Stop! Kie! Can you check your psycho friend, please? -she turned to her. -Okay, everyone, listen up! -he straigthened his back, -Get the hell off our side of the island! JJ lifted the gun up and shot three times in the air. -Are you crazy? You idiot! -Kie pushed him by the chest. -Stupid! -said Pope. -You idiot, why would you do that? -I'm saving his life, okay? -Stupid! John B plops in the water and Nova's whole body froze, hot tears forming in her eyes, as she helplessly looks at John B. JJ turns around and sees her, tilting his head and realizing who she is. His eyes go wide and he drops the gun on the sand, making her flinch. -You--

[sculptorofbeginningslibrary]

Black Eyes & Bloodlust - Chapter 12

My Masterlist

Black Eyes & Bloodlust Masterlist

Summary: Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

Characters: DeanxReader, Sam, Cas, a few OC’s

Warnings: SMUT so typical A/B/O warnings, Slow burn (and I mean it. SLOW BURN GUYS.) Language, depictions of mental illness, Gore and Violence. (Warnings will apply to all chapters just to cover all the bases.)

Word Count: ~3500

A/N: First official fresh-chapter post on this blog, woo!

Beta’d by @justcallmeasmodeus

AS ALWAYS,

ENJOY!

__~*~__

The smell of gasoline was overwhelming as you filled up the tank of your car for the third time. Since Rowena had sent you on your way with a knowing smile and a pat on the cheek, every sense seemed heightened, kicked up another notch and helping push you headlong into what was starting to feel less like a dream-state and more like an entirely different dimension.

The roads you traveled now were familiar, a path you’d driven a hundred times, and yet everything felt new. Different. The piney smells you’d always found soothing were pungent instead, the bright greens of the surrounding forests too sharp and the crunch of pine needles under your shoes too loud. It felt like you were treading muddy water, desperately trying to stay upright while the tide of darkness tried sweeping your feet from under you.

At the same time, you could feel the dispassion. A calm that even the strongest current couldn’t shake. You were on a mission. A shark who’d scented blood and was on the hunt.

The only coherent thought was getting home.

Getting to Dean.

Rowena hadn’t been lying about that much at least. You could feel his energy inside you, pulling you to him as surely as something had pulled you to Rowena, crawling over and under your skin like an angry colony of ants.

There was a sense of freedom on the road as you traveled, enhancing the strange calm, but every time you stopped it fell away, leaving only the roar of your impending collapse.

Despite the eddies of emotion, you wished you’d always lived like this. Even flying down the highway your eyes seemed to notice every beautiful detail you’d been deprived of while wrapped in a cocoon of normal, and it made you furious. It felt like you’d missed out on some great big party and only now was the door cracking open so you could catch a peek of the festivities. Being stuck in one place, trapped in a nine-to-five job and feeling like some school girl dreaming about your perfect Alpha was a hell you never wanted to go back to.

The job was gone, and your dreaming days were over. Your eyes were open, and nothing from before mattered. Once you had Dean, the shattered pieces of your life would fall back into place.

Wind coming in the open window whipped against your face, cooling your skin and keeping the urge to vomit at bay. So much medicine had been through your system lately your body was in shock, stuck between heat and fully shutting down, but something kept you going.

Your arm throbbed almost in response to the thought.

Absently, you wondered if Rowena had been right about the magic she’d made sure to mention without providing any real answers.

The woman was a mystery, but like everything else, she didn’t matter. Every tire rotation brought you closer to your goal, and your foot pressed harder into the gas pedal. Your fingers toyed with the small, burlap, bag she’d given you for protection. Twisting it around your fingers sent tingles up your spine, making you wonder if it was for your protection at all. There was a palpable field of energy surrounding it that didn’t feel friendly.

At the next rest stop, you chucked it into the trash can. You were only a few hours from home and feeling stronger than you’d ever felt in your life, you didn’t need protecting.

__~*~__

Dean had gotten his own motel room after visiting Y/N’s apartment, unable to stomach looking at his brother and friend. He spent the night tossing and turning, the sleep he desperately needed refusing to stick around for long. During the short spurts of unconsciousness he was tortured with visions. He kept seeing himself as the one poking bloody holes and slicing up innocent Omegas, his hands were the ones smoothing their hair almost affectionately, his voice was cooing soft words so contradictory to the pain he was inflicting, his fingers delicately pulling open the sticky pages of an old family bible to store the bloody souvenirs.

Saving them, velvet shadows crusted in blood whispered from the back of his mind, you’re saving them. You’re opening their eyes. Letting them see the truth.

Every time he jerked awake the Mark flared and the visions lingered. In those fleeting moments he forgot it was not him committing these crimes, it was his Omega. Fueled by the Mark and twisted into a shell of her former self. When coherence returned he did remember. He remembered that it was still his fault.

Her mysterious connection to him was the cause, and she’d been thrust into the world of the supernatural, unaware and beyond unprepared to deal with the shared darkness raging inside them.

The guilt was a living creature as Dean left the bed and paced the room, alternating between reading pages of her file as he walked and sitting to take long pulls from the bottle of Whiskey sitting on the table. He stared at the pictures of her as he drank. He’d left them splayed out and scattered around the table, just like the two of them. When he was finally drunk enough to lay back down, he pulled Y/N’s balled up shirt from underneath the covers and tucked it close.

Dean woke again after a few hours, his body a raging storm of hormones.  The sun was barely seeping through the curtains and the room was cool, but a thick layer of sweat coated his mostly naked skin, and cold chills rolled violently from head to toe. Her shirt was draped across his face from where he’d fallen asleep desperately inhaling her scent.

Dean cursed inwardly. He should have known better.

Through the fog, he moved her shirt and stripped off his boxers before stuffing his hand under the pillow. Dean’s fingers sought out the soft fabric of her panties bundled beside his gun and pulled them out. The silk was cool and refreshing against his heated skin. Dean inhaled her clean scent as one hand brought the sheen fabric to his nose while the other trailed down his chest and abdomen to seek out his painfully hard cock. His thumb traced the mushroomed head, swollen, purple, and leaking with his need for her.

His cock jumped at the soft touch and he groaned, unable to stop his hips from flexing.

After rearranging himself against the pillows, Dean wrapped the silk around his cock and held it in place at the base. His fingers dug in through the silk, teasing the sensitive juncture just below his swelling knot. The fabric desensitized him enough to wrap his palm around the thick shaft and give it a languid pump. He did it again and again until his head fell back heavily into the wall, his eyes closing as he got lost in the sweet sensation of his tightening grip.

Taking her clothes had been questionable at the time, but now Dean was thankful he had them. Y/N’s scent may have sent him into an early rut, but they were hard proof that he wasn’t far from her.

He was picturing her smile as his hand worked, imagining how pretty her mouth would look wrapped around his cock, how soft her skin would be under his fingers and how sweet her voice would sound begging for his knot.

The silk was better than any lube as he sped his fist up, bucking up into it as his fingers twisted circles that tugged his balls up and ground against his knot.

__~*~__

The urge to pee had overtaken the hunger for snacks on your way into the convenience store, so you were in the bathroom when it hit.

The cramp came from nowhere and doubled you over, dropping you quickly to your knees. A thick gasp echoed around the stone room as a tingle stole over your clit and sank deep into your abdomen. Your hand shoved it’s way into the pajama pants you were still wearing, seeking relief of any kind. Two fingers sank knuckle deep into the slick that had gathered, and immediately you were pumping them against the trembling walls of your pussy, searching out your g-spot. Your palm smeared slick over your aching clit as another cramp rattled your teeth, the pressure blooming quickly into splintered pleasure. Hips bucking, you pressed and moaned until your walls finally fluttered and clamped down around your fingers.

You rode your own hand as aftershocks zipped through every nerve. When it was over finally you collapsed to the filthy floor, exhausted and confused.

__~*~__

Dean’s breathing was staccato as he pumped his fist to a furious crescendo, his body flushed and sweating, legs squirming and feet digging into the sheets until his knot popped and he came with a loud cry. Trapped between the silk and his pulsing cock his cum flooded out, squelching through the fabric as he kept moving his hand until he couldn’t take it any longer.

__~*~__

“You said we couldn’t trust them, then turned around and gave them Y/N’s file without a warrant!”

Doctor Mara rolled her eyes as Doctor Cameron shoved a cup of coffee at her before stomping over to the bar of their two-bedroom hotel suite. This was the same argument they’d had multiple times since she’d handed the file over to the youngest Winchester, and she was just about done with the entire charade. Months of planning had come and gone and she was anxious to see the rest of her plan through.

“Yes. I did. They’re FBI, Cameron. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Like hell we didn’t! And what if they find her before we do? Hmm? What then? Everything will be ruined. All our data lost! Tainted!” He slammed two mini-shot bottles and clenched his fist. “They’ll take her to some government facility and drug her up and all of our work will have been for nothing!”

“Cameron!” The cold eyed woman snapped, finally tired of his jabbering. “They will not find her. What’s happening to Y/N will lead her right back to us, just in time for the next phase.”

The hypnotist glared at her incredulously, unable to fathom her reasoning, or how she was sitting so calmly in that hotel robe while the FBI stole their patient, and with her, every viable option for future research.

“How can you possibly know that? She’s missing! What if the cops are right? What if she’s already dead? Then where’s my rare case and my fucking book?” Doctor Mara rounded the bar where Doctor Cameron was pounding more shots. Her delicate hand came to rest on his own, her thin fingers wrapping his wrist like a creeping vine. His eyes searched hers as her grip tightened with a strength that surprised him.

Her voice was a growl as she spoke, spooking Cameron into silence. “I don’t care about your god-damned book. She is not dead, because her body would have been found already you moron! She will come because the connection to her Alpha demands it. That’s why.” 

“Her Alpha? What the hell are you--” Long nails slashed into Doctor Cameron’s wrist, and he tried to wrench away from the suddenly terrifying woman to no avail.

“The Winchesters are not FBI you little shit, and I’m tired of hearing your whiny voice. Fuck the research. Fuck your book. Shut up, before I make you.” When her eyes flashed black, Doctor Cameron screamed, renewing his efforts to escape Doctor Mara’s grasp. Annoyed with the squirming man, Doctor Mara shoved him away. His head hit the wall with a thunderous crack, and he collapsed to the floor.

She didn’t need to check for a pulse, the perks of being a demon meant she could hear his weak heartbeat and feel the pulse of his tainted soul. The demon didn’t need him any longer… not with Y/N on her way to Dean.

The Winchester had stolen darkness not meant for him and murdered the Queen of Hell with it. The demon would see his queen murdered in return. Y/N’s soul was already corrupted, damned to hell alongside Dean Winchester the instant Doctor Mara had fully unlocked their connection through Cameron’s hypnosis.

She sipped the lukewarm coffee with a grin, feeling smug. The intended transformation was almost complete. Poor little Y/N, ripped apart on the inside by things she would never comprehend, and soon, ripped apart on the outside as well. Hopefully by her own mate.

What a show.

__~*~__

The sun was going down when you finally pulled into your apartment complex.

Your sweaty hands were searching out the prescription bottles the minute you threw the car in park, and you started to shake when you realized they were empty.

Fuck. Were there more inside?

You cautiously peered around the parking lot. Nothing seemed amiss, but there was a foreboding feeling stealing away the dispassion and replacing it with panic.

Then you noticed Lane’s car parked next to your spot.

Double fuck.

You debated leaving. Just turning around and driving until you couldn’t see straight, but an image flashed into your mind and wouldn’t leave.

Dean and Lane, standing together in your apartment.

Dean. Your Alpha.

Lane the perfect wife.

Lane, the perfect mother...a better Omega than you could ever be.

Lane, the traitorous bitch, offering Dean everything you couldn’t.

How dare she.

Everything was red as you fled the car, deliriously stomping your way up the stairs with murder in your heart. Halfway up a cramp brought you down, your involuntary scream echoing through the hallways. You could see your door as  your fingers clutched into the ratty carpet fighting to crawl the remaining few steps to the landing.

The door flung open, and out stepped a disheveled Lane. Her hair was a mess, her face red and swollen.

In the back of your mind you knew it was probably from crying or worry, but the rash on your arm was pulsing wildly, drowning out the logical thoughts struggling to the surface. Black streaks undulated from the center of the Mark, driving the darkness deeper into your heart.

Dean is in there with her, it whispered vehemently. She’s fucking your Alpha. Traitor. Whore. Weak willed woman in desperate need of a strong man. She should die.

Lane cried your name over and over as tears of relief and happiness started to flow, completely missing the violent growl directed at her. Before you could react, her arms were under yours, helping you stand and maneuvering you into your apartment.

His scent was everywhere, mingling unpleasantly with hers. You shoved her away to rush into the living room.You couldn’t smell yourself anymore, and the smell of death was only faint now, barely a whisper among the other unfamiliar scents. Your mind registered these things but did not latch onto them. Only one thing had your focus.

Dean.

Every heartbeat was the pulse of his name in your veins, the smell of him different than in your dreams and diluted by time yet unmistakable. Your drive to find him had you staggering to the couch before you realized his scent wasn’t there.

He was here. He had to be. You changed directions and headed down the small hallway. Discovering your empty room brought forth a scream of rage just as Lane stepped in behind you.

“Y/N…” Her voice was soft, but echoed in the emptiness of your heart as you whipped around to face her.

Lane gasped when your eyes connected with hers. Your pupils had stolen all the space within, making her reel back. She thought you’d gone feral, and her heart clenched with anguish. “Oh shit...Y/N, it’s me...It’s Lane, your sister.”

“I know who you are, whore.” You spat, snarling as you took a step closer. The anger was pulsing deeper with every inhale of your Alpha’s scent; your temperature rising every moment he wasn’t touching you.

You were fighting two urges at once, unsure of which to address. There was the urge to find Dean, and the urge to see your forearm drenched in Lane’s blood. You wanted to shove your hand so deep into her chest you brought her heart out the other side and then rip it back through to show it to her before she died. You wanted to toss her broken body down the stairs and resume the hunt for Dean.

You did neither as your heat finally consumed you, full blown and aching for something that was too far away. The cramps were constant now, sweat rolling from every pore as you collapsed under the weight of the Mark and your heat.

Lane watched in horror as you reached for her, the rash on your arm a twisted rainbow of infection and your eyes blazing with emotions she hadn’t seen before. You fell unconscious after snarling at her one final time.

__~*~__

Dean was in the shower when Sam started pounding on the door. Sam could smell Dean’s rut, and was frantic in his knocking.

“Dean!”

Dean growled as he yanked the knob to turn off the water, breaking it on the way down.

“Fuck off Sam!”

The knocking increased. “Dean! It’s Y/N! She’s home! Lane just called and…” Sam stopped speaking when the door flew open. His nose rankled at the scent of his brother’s activities but he kept quiet. Dean was soaked but flinging his clothes on faster than Sam had ever seen, and suddenly the car keys were flying at his face.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” Dean shouted, spurring Sam into action.

Within moments, Dean was hopping into the passenger seat, his eyes wide and the Mark burning.

Sam floored the gas, speeding through the nighttime traffic, ignoring street signs and stop lights. He knew Dean wouldn’t stand for any delay in his condition. Sam skidded into a spot as close to Y/N’s apartment as he could get, but before the car completely stopped Dean was racing up the steps.

“Dean!” Sam called, but Dean was ignorant to anything but getting to Y/N.

Instead of his Omega, he found Lane crying at the top of the stairs.

“Where is she?” Lane flinched at the belligerent tone but recognized it for what it was.

Panic.

She wondered briefly why an FBI agent would be reacting so strongly to her sister, but weakly pointed at the door. Dean rushed inside, following the scent of Y/N’s heat and abandoning Lane to her grief.

__

Sam trotted up the steps and stopped when he reached Lane. She didn’t flinch when he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but neither did she stop crying. “What happened to her?” A sob racked her chest as Sam pulled her in, wrapping her tightly in his arms.

“I don’t know,” he lied smoothly, “but we’re gonna find out. We’re gonna help her, okay?” He waited for her nod into his chest before pulling her gently away and looking into her watery eyes. “I know it’s hard...but I need you to tell me what happened here.”

“Where is she?” Came Dean’s roar, interrupting the conversation before it began and sending Lane back into Sam’s arms in terror.

“Dean what’re you--”

“She’s gone! I can smell her but she’s gone!”

Lane whimpered, “She was just here I…”

“Why would she leave? Don’t lie to me!” Dean howled, snatching Lane up and shaking her until Sam pulled him off.

“Dean! You know what’s happening to her because it’s happening to you. Where do you think she is?”  

Dean’s chest was heaving as he glared around Sam at Lane. He had an unexplained and sudden hatred for her that made him want to kill her as surely as if she were a monster. She wasn’t, however, he forced himself to remember. She was human. His mind swirled with the violence the Mark was craving, thoughts tinged in red and black as he fought to stay level headed. Her song taunted him, the soft notes floating across his senses alongside her fresh scent.

He snatched the keys and flung himself away from Sam, heading back down the stairs at a run.

“I’ll take you back to your hotel.” Sam whispered.

“She’s my sister...”

“I’m sorry for all this, but you need to be out of the way for this part, okay?”

Lane nodded dumbly as Sam led her to her own car, the roar of the Impala fading into the night.

__~*~__

Your feet ached as you stalked down the sidewalks in the dark. You’d left your car in front of a random grocery store after jumping out of your second floor window. Consciously, you knew something was wrong. A jump like that should have at least slowed you down, but it it hadn’t. You’d been in your car and gone gone before Lane had stepped onto the landing to give you your space. Disappearing into the night was a glaring symptom of exactly how wrong everything was, but something had been wrong for going on a year now, and no one had been able to help you.

You thought you were hunting Dean when you’d first set out, your heat addled brain leading the way towards relief. Instead, as the scent of him faded something else replaced it. Something dark. The same something that had been writhing in your mind and body, forcing it’s way upwards while forcing you down. The same something that was on your arm. You knew that now. The darkness was speaking to you directly, as if it had a mind of its own, but it was using your voice.

Weak. They’re all weak. You were weak. Not anymore. Save them. You know how. You’ve always known.

You passed the park, multiple stores and not a few suburbs before finding your way to the woods. It was a small patch, surrounded on all sides by the downtown strips. Your worn shoes crunched angrily through the debris until you reached the spot you were looking for.

__~*~__

Dean didn’t need anyone to tell him where she’d gone. The Mark was raging, his rut acting as a compass now that he had the scent so fresh in his nose.

He sped through the empty streets as Sam had, ignoring all safety and stop lights on his way downtown.

__~*~__

The Omega in you was howling for release, but the darkness in you howled for something else altogether.

As you watched, a young Omega left The Club across from you, alone. She tossed her hair, revealing her clean neck, and a malicious grin split your ragged features. She was so much like the first one.

She was perfect.

__~*~__

Questions? Comments? Incoherent screaming?

Bring it on!

🖤

__~*~__

Story Tags:

@allaboutbailey @alligator210 @amarokofficial @antiscocialfanwarrior​ @bodhi-black @deanna-s-winchester @deliciouslydisturbed365 @edensparks​ @erinmcd1234 @faith901t-blog @fangirl-and-medstudent-help​ @fangirlanotherjust​ @flamencodiva @getnaildbyme @hennessy0274-blog @hotterthanfire-colderthanice @jodibullock1 @karouwinchester​ @katkit73 @kbl1313​ @kittenofdoomage​ @mannls​ @mbbevans @mistress-sassafras @ne-gans @pickleporkupine @rainbowkisses31 @secretlysage​ @shatteredabby @spnskinnyballs​ @starfirerules​ @tamtamlov @tgwge @thatrandomredheadchick @tumbler-tidbits @ultrahviolent @violentmommabear42 @weepingwillowphoenix @whisperingwillows @wildsageleon @winchesterprincessbride @witchyhoeski​

4ever&ever Tags:

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[letterboxd]

Fate.

“The reason that they choose to pick up a gun or punch someone in the face or fight for their lives is usually different than the reasons you’d find for a man.” Terminator: Dark Fate director Tim Miller discusses David Fincher, James Cameron and female action heroes in an exclusive chat with Letterboxd.

Tim Miller is here to save the Terminator franchise. Like many of us, Miller (the director of Deadpool) is a massive fan of the first two films, and not so much of the last three.

Miller’s new film, Terminator: Dark Fate, positions itself as a direct sequel to the iconic Terminator 2: Judgment Day and ignores all the films made subsequent to that 1991 classic. The connection is strengthened by the participation of James Cameron (director and co-writer of the 1984 original and Judgment Day), who has a story credit on Dark Fate, and Linda Hamilton, who returns to play Sarah Connor for the first time since 1991.

In the new film, Connor is one of two people—alongside Mackenzie Davis’s augmented future soldier Grace—attempting to protect Dani Ramos (Natalia Reyes) from the super-advanced Rev-9 terminator (Gabriel Luna). Dani is a young Mexican woman fated to play a critical role in a future war between humans and machines (specifically, an artificial intelligence called Legion).

Arnold Schwarzenegger and Linda Hamilton in a scene from ‘Terminator: Dark Fate’.

Although Connor prevented Judgment Day in T2, something similar eventually transpired in the future, once again pitting humanity against a seemingly insurmountable artificial intelligence threat. Arnold Schwarzenegger also shows up as an aged T-800, and the film has fun with his presence.

A few weeks back, the Alamo Drafthouse treated audiences who thought they were going to see T2 with a surprise screening of Dark Fate. “This is the third film I’ve always wanted…” was the reaction from Letterboxd member CJSFilms. “Changed the story enough without completely jumping the shark and had some great new characters along with amazing work to the older ones.”

“Part of me can’t really believe I liked it so much, but it’s the truth,” said azureblueworld.

Miller recently spoke with us about Dark Fate, as well as answering some questions about his life in film.

Mackenzie Davis and Natalia Reyes in a scene from ‘Terminator: Dark Fate’.

It’s relatively rare in action cinema to have three female protagonists. What do you think that brings to Terminator: Dark Fate? Tim Miller: I think it brings a lot, both in the making of it and in the film itself, because from a plot standpoint, you don’t often have enough stories where women are in these action roles. The reason that they choose to pick up a gun or punch someone in the face or fight for their lives is usually different than the reasons you’d find for a man. You don’t often find a woman killing people for vengeance or these typically macho things. So, I find those reasons much more interesting. This is why I love Sarah Connor. This is a woman who is fighting to protect her child and there is no more powerful imperative than that. So we have all of that and you have Grace coming back from the future. We really didn’t play too much upon it, but Grace is Dani’s surrogate child. She finds her in the ruin when she’s twelve and raises her. So the idea of a mother having to send her daughter back for the fate of humanity is pretty powerful and it’s not the usual male-centric reasons for doing shit like that.

Then, because we had John Connor, the whole male as the savior of humanity thing has been done. But secondly, I just feel like Dani would be a different kind of leader. I always used the analogy of yes, she’s tough and she’s a great leader, but she’s more Obama than Patton in my mind.

Mackenzie Davis is amazing in this movie. What kind of thinking went into the conception of her character, Grace? I remember the moment very clearly because my favorite author of all time, Joe Abercrombie, who writes fantasy not sci-fi, primarily, although his Shattered Sea books are sort of post-apocalyptic. Joe was in the writers’ room, I love him. He’s a great English author. If you haven’t read him, do. We were talking about how there’s always this trilogy of characters: there’s the protector, the hunter and the prey in Terminator movies. We were talking about the protector, and Joe said, “What if it’s this female super soldier who comes back from the future, and she’s all fucked up and scarred and she has to take a lot of drugs because she’s been enhanced with stolen Legion technology?” It wasn’t Legion at that time, it was stolen advanced AI technology adapted for humans and she was kind of a machine fighter. And she has to take these drugs all the time because they amp up her immune system, and jack up her reflexes and things like that. And I thought, ‘Oh, that’s fucking cool’. Everybody else did, too.

And Mackenzie plays her with so much humanity, which is why I really did not want to get the obvious casting takes for that role. They would show me some actors who were super accomplished martial artists or fighters or things like that. I knew that she would be, in many ways, the heart of the movie. I mean Sarah, of course, is the heart of the movie ultimately, but for so long in this film, Sarah is emotionless. She’s a terminator, you know? She’s fucked up. And Mackenzie had to be this person [for whom] you could really identify with her mission and her humanity.

Director Tim Miller and Linda Hamilton on the set of ‘Terminator: Dark Fate’.

What movies did you watch to prepare for making Terminator: Dark Fate? I watched all of the Terminator movies—good and bad—again, of course. I watch Aliens all the time. Then I watched Alien again, too. Because I think Terminator has moments of tension, for sure. [Alien³ director] David Fincher’s favorite moment in Terminator: Dark Fate, oddly, was the shots of Gabriel [Luna] walking around Carl’s house after they’ve left, in this creepy sort of home invasion moment. So I think Terminator’s always had a horror element to it.

I love movies that have heroes. Movies like Gladiator and Blade Runner are some of my favorites. Gladiator has the heroic element of the person who’s been beaten down but refuses to lose, [that’s] definitely in Terminator movies. Blade Runner has the element of the hero who gets their ass handed to them every time, but keeps getting back up and I feel like that’s kind of what happens in these chase scenes where you can never defeat a terminator. You get your ass kicked but somehow you manage to get away and fight another day until eventually something else defeats them.

I have less of a broad spectrum of movie-watching. I read a lot and that’s where a lot of my love of sci-fi comes from. I tend to—like I think a lot of nerds—you have your favorites and it’s hard to get out of that rut because it’s so not often that good stuff comes around that you can put on that list of favorites.

Gabriel Luna and friend in a scene from ‘Terminator: Dark Fate’.

Was there a particular film that, when you saw it, made you say, “Okay, I’m doing this. I’m gonna make movies”? Aliens. The thing that Jim does so much and so well is really gives the characters a sense of reality, that they feel grounded and what I love about his movies also is the writing always feels very organic to me. In too many movies, you can feel that the writer or the director made a decision on what way to move the story based on a plot [point], rather than it coming organically from the characters. In Jim’s movies, you never feel that. In fact, when I met him I was surprised because I thought [he] must write forward from character instead of having some pre-ordained idea of where it’s going to end up. And he said, “No, oh no. I think of: ‘Oh, man. I want to see this big fucking action scene and then I work into it’.” But I guess the magic comes in the fact that you don’t feel that.

He mentioned the flying scene in Avatar, which I loved, which is this falling-in-love scene when they’re learning to fly. I said, “But you have this great falling-in-love scene.” He goes, “I just wanted to do a really great scene of them flying around Pandora in these cool, swooping camera moves and this bad-ass flight sequence. And then it became the falling-in-love sequence.” So that was the surprise for me and a little bit of insight into Jim’s magic.

How many times would you say you’ve seen Aliens? Oh fuck, 50 plus, easy.

What's the sexiest film you’ve ever seen? The sexiest? 9½ Weeks.

What film do you have fond memories of watching with your parents? Poseidon Adventure, the original. I remember Gene Hackman. I remember Shelley Winters’ death where she was the Olympic swimmer who gained too much weight, but she managed to save everybody. Then I remember Gene Hackman jumping out over the fire to turn off that big knob to cut the steam off so everybody else could escape and then dropping into the fire. Heroes. Always heroes sacrificing. I love it.

What classic are you embarrassed to say you haven’t seen? Citizen Kane. That’s easy.

What filmmaker, living or dead, do you envy or admire the most? David Fincher, who I’m lucky enough to call a friend. David hasn’t made a bad movie ever.

What’s it like working with him [the pair collaborated on the Netflix sci-fi anthology series Love Death + Robots]? David’s great with me. He’s much more trouble if you’re an executive who tries to fuck with him. I couldn’t tell you why, to this day, that he and I are friends because I’m so messy and he’s so precise, but he’s been so helpful to me as a friend and as a mentor over the years that I can’t underestimate the value of it. He’s the funniest, smartest guy in the room wherever he is.

Tim Miller on the set of ‘Terminator: Dark Fate’.

He’s kind of enigmatic. I love how seemingly quiet he is. He doesn’t put a huge amount of himself out there. Well, that’s in contrast to how quiet he’s not when he’s one-on-one or in a meeting, because he loves to talk. He puts on a show and his knowledge of film and filmmaking is so encyclopedic that you really just kind of sit back and watch. When we were pitching Heavy Metal, which was pretty much Love, Death + Robots before it was Love, Death + Robots, we pitched probably 100 times. It was always really great for me to sit back and watch him work, because back then it was pre-Deadpool and nobody really paid attention to me in the room. So I got a front-row seat to watching David work and especially watching him work in the Hollywood system, which is a unique and interesting system.

What’s a film you wish you had made? Saving Private Ryan. Again, I’m such a one-dimensional filmmaker. It all comes back to heroism. The fact that all of them could sacrifice for this mother that they don’t know, where they imagine her hearing this news of all of her sons being dead. That’s really who they sacrifice themselves for because they don’t know Ryan, he’s just another guy. It’s a powerful message about humanity that I thought was great. Tom Hanks is just, he’s the most amazing combination of strong and vulnerable, which I find really interesting in a hero. That’s very human, you know?

If you were forced to remake any classic, what would you choose? I’m very interested to see what Denis Villeneuve does with Dune because it’s a great book and they’ve never managed to make a good movie out of it.

‘Terminator: Dark Fate’ is in theaters now. Comments have been edited for clarity and length.

[yobaba30]

trump’s reality TV gig

Expedition: Robinson,” a Swedish reality-television program, premièred in the summer of 1997, with a tantalizing premise: sixteen strangers are deposited on a small island off the coast of Malaysia and forced to fend for themselves. To survive, they must coöperate, but they are also competing: each week, a member of the ensemble is voted off the island, and the final contestant wins a grand prize. The show’s title alluded to both “Robinson Crusoe” and “The Swiss Family Robinson,” but a more apt literary reference might have been “Lord of the Flies.” The first contestant who was kicked off was a young man named Sinisa Savija. Upon returning to Sweden, he was morose, complaining to his wife that the show’s editors would “cut away the good things I did and make me look like a fool.” Nine weeks before the show aired, he stepped in front of a speeding train.

The producers dealt with this tragedy by suggesting that Savija’s turmoil was unrelated to the series—and by editing him virtually out of the show. Even so, there was a backlash, with one critic asserting that a program based on such merciless competition was “fascist television.” But everyone watched the show anyway, and Savija was soon forgotten. “We had never seen anything like it,” Svante Stockselius, the chief of the network that produced the program, told the Los Angeles Times, in 2000. “Expedition: Robinson” offered a potent cocktail of repulsion and attraction. You felt embarrassed watching it, Stockselius said, but “you couldn’t stop.”

In 1998, a thirty-eight-year-old former British paratrooper named Mark Burnett was living in Los Angeles, producing television. “Lord of the Flies” was one of his favorite books, and after he heard about “Expedition: Robinson” he secured the rights to make an American version. Burnett had previously worked in sales and had a knack for branding. He renamed the show “Survivor.”

The first season was set in Borneo, and from the moment it aired, on CBS, in 2000, “Survivor” was a ratings juggernaut: according to the network, a hundred and twenty-five million Americans—more than a third of the population—tuned in for some portion of the season finale. The catchphrase delivered by the host, Jeff Probst, at the end of each elimination ceremony, “The tribe has spoken,” entered the lexicon. Burnett had been a marginal figure in Hollywood, but after this triumph he, too, was rebranded, as an oracle of spectacle. Les Moonves, then the chairman of CBS, arranged for the delivery of a token of thanks—a champagne-colored Mercedes. To Burnett, the meaning of this gesture was unmistakable: “I had arrived.” The only question was what he might do next.

A few years later, Burnett was in Brazil, filming “Survivor: The Amazon.” His second marriage was falling apart, and he was staying in a corporate apartment with a girlfriend. One day, they were watching TV and happened across a BBC documentary series called “Trouble at the Top,” about the corporate rat race. The girlfriend found the show boring and suggested changing the station, but Burnett was transfixed. He called his business partner in L.A. and said, “I’ve got a new idea.” Burnett would not discuss the concept over the phone—one of his rules for success was to always pitch in person—but he was certain that the premise had the contours of a hit: “Survivor” in the city. Contestants competing for a corporate job. The urban jungle!

He needed someone to play the role of heavyweight tycoon. Burnett, who tends to narrate stories from his own life in the bravura language of a Hollywood pitch, once said of the show, “It’s got to have a hook to it, right? They’ve got to be working for someone big and special and important. Cut to: I’ve rented this skating rink.”

In 2002, Burnett rented Wollman Rink, in Central Park, for a live broadcast of the Season 4 finale of “Survivor.” The property was controlled by Donald Trump, who had obtained the lease to operate the rink in 1986, and had plastered his name on it. Before the segment started, Burnett addressed fifteen hundred spectators who had been corralled for the occasion, and noticed Trump sitting with Melania Knauss, then his girlfriend, in the front row. Burnett prides himself on his ability to “read the room”: to size up the personalities in his audience, suss out what they want, and then give it to them.

“I need to show respect to Mr. Trump,” Burnett recounted, in a 2013 speech in Vancouver. “I said, ‘Welcome, everybody, to Trump Wollman skating rink. The Trump Wollman skating rink is a fine facility, built by Mr. Donald Trump. Thank you, Mr. Trump. Because the Trump Wollman skating rink is the place we are tonight and we love being at the Trump Wollman skating rink, Mr. Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump.” As Burnett told the story, he had scarcely got offstage before Trump was shaking his hand, proclaiming, “You’re a genius!”

Cut to: June, 2015. After starring in fourteen seasons of “The Apprentice,” all executive-produced by Burnett, Trump appeared in the gilded atrium of Trump Tower, on Fifth Avenue, to announce that he was running for President. Only someone “really rich,” Trump declared, could “take the brand of the United States and make it great again.” He also made racist remarks about Mexicans, prompting NBC, which had broadcast “The Apprentice,” to fire him. Burnett, however, did not sever his relationship with his star. He and Trump had been equal partners in “The Apprentice,” and the show had made each of them hundreds of millions of dollars. They were also close friends: Burnett liked to tell people that when Trump married Knauss, in 2005, Burnett’s son Cameron was the ring bearer. 

Trump had been a celebrity since the eighties, his persona shaped by the best-selling book “The Art of the Deal.” But his business had foundered, and by 2003 he had become a garish figure of local interest—a punch line on Page Six. “The Apprentice” mythologized him anew, and on a much bigger scale, turning him into an icon of American success. Jay Bienstock, a longtime collaborator of Burnett’s, and the showrunner on “The Apprentice,” told me, “Mark always likes to compare his shows to great films or novels. All of Mark’s shows feel bigger than life, and this is by design.” Burnett has made many programs since “The Apprentice,” among them “Shark Tank,” a startup competition based on a Japanese show, and “The Voice,” a singing contest adapted from a Dutch program. In June, he became the chairman of M-G-M Television. But his chief legacy is to have cast a serially bankrupt carnival barker in the role of a man who might plausibly become the leader of the free world. “I don’t think any of us could have known what this would become,” Katherine Walker, a producer on the first five seasons of “The Apprentice,” told me. “But Donald would not be President had it not been for that show.”

Tony Schwartz, who wrote “The Art of the Deal,” which falsely presented Trump as its primary author, told me that he feels some responsibility for facilitating Trump’s imposture. But, he said, “Mark Burnett’s influence was vastly greater,” adding, “ ‘The Apprentice’ was the single biggest factor in putting Trump in the national spotlight.” Schwartz has publicly condemned Trump, describing him as “the monster I helped to create.” Burnett, by contrast, has refused to speak publicly about his relationship with the President or about his curious, but decisive, role in American history.

Burnett is lean and lanky, with the ageless, perpetually smiling face of Peter Pan and eyes that, in the words of one ex-wife, have “a Photoshop twinkle.” He has a high forehead and the fixed, gravity-defying hair of a nineteen-fifties film star. People often mistake Burnett for an Australian, because he has a deep tan and an outdoorsy disposition, and because his accent has been mongrelized by years of international travel. But he grew up in Dagenham, on the eastern outskirts of London, a milieu that he has recalled as “gray and grimy.” His father, Archie, was a tattooed Glaswegian who worked the night shift at a Ford automobile plant. His mother, Jean, worked there as well, pouring acid into batteries, but in Mark’s recollection she always dressed immaculately, “never letting her station in life interfere with how she presented herself.” Mark, an only child, grew up watching American television shows such as “Starsky & Hutch” and “The Rockford Files.”

At seventeen, he volunteered for the British Army’s Parachute Regiment; according to a friend who enlisted with him, he joined for “the glitz.” The Paras were an élite unit, and a soldier from his platoon, Paul Read, told me that Burnett was a particularly formidable special operator, both physically commanding and a natural leader: “He was always super keen. He always wanted to be the best, even among the best.” (Another soldier recalled that Burnett was nicknamed the Male Model, because he was reluctant to “get any dirt under his fingernails.”) Burnett served in Northern Ireland, and then in the Falklands, where he took part in the 1982 advance on Port Stanley. The experience, he later said, was “horrific, but on the other hand—in a sick way—exciting.”

When Burnett left the Army, after five years, his plan was to find work in Central America as a “weapons and tactics adviser”—not as a mercenary, he later insisted, though it is difficult to parse the distinction. Before he left, his mother told him that she’d had a premonition and implored him not to take another job that involved carrying a gun. Like Trump, Burnett trusts his impulses. “Your gut instinct is rarely wrong,” he likes to say. During a layover in Los Angeles, he decided to heed his mother’s admonition, and walked out of the airport. He later described himself as the quintessential immigrant: “I had no money, no green card, no nothing.” But the California sun was shining, and he was eager to try his luck.

Burnett is an avid raconteur, and his anecdotes about his life tend to have a three-act structure. In Act I, he is a fish out of water, guileless and naïve, with nothing but the shirt on his back and an outsized dream. Act II is the rude awakening: the world bets against him. It’s impossible! You’ll lose everything! No such thing has ever been tried! In Act III, Burnett always prevails. Not long after arriving in California, he landed his first job—as a nanny. Eyebrows were raised: a commando turned nanny? Yet Burnett thrived, working for a family in Beverly Hills, then one in Malibu. As he later observed, the experience taught him “how nice the life styles of wealthy people are.” Young, handsome, and solicitous, he discovered that successful people are often happy to talk about their path to success.

Burnett married a California woman, Kym Gold, who came from an affluent family. “Mark has always been very, very hungry,” Gold told me recently. “He’s always had a lot of drive.” For a time, he worked for Gold’s stepfather, who owned a casting agency, and for Gold, who owned an apparel business. She would buy slightly imperfect T-shirts wholesale, at two dollars apiece, and Burnett would resell them, on the Venice boardwalk, for eighteen. That was where he learned “the art of selling,” he has said. The marriage lasted only a year, by which point Burnett had obtained a green card. (Gold, who had also learned a thing or two about selling, went on to co-found the denim company True Religion, which was eventually sold for eight hundred million dollars.)

One day in the early nineties, Burnett read an article about a new kind of athletic event: a long-distance endurance race, known as the Raid Gauloises, in which teams of athletes competed in a multiday trek over harsh terrain. In 1992, Burnett organized a team and participated in a race in Oman. Noticing that he and his teammates were “walking, climbing advertisements” for gear, he signed up sponsors. He also realized that if you filmed such a race it would make for exotic and gripping viewing. Burnett launched his own race, the Eco-Challenge, which was set in such scenic locations as Utah and British Columbia, and was televised on various outlets, including the Discovery Channel. Bienstock, who first met Burnett when he worked on the “Eco-Challenge” show, in 1996, told me that Burnett was less interested in the ravishing backdrops or in the competition than he was in the intense emotional experiences of the racers: “Mark saw the drama in real people being the driving force in an unscripted show.”

By this time, Burnett had met an aspiring actress from Long Island named Dianne Minerva and married her. They became consumed with making the show a success. “When we went to bed at night, we talked about it, when we woke up in the morning, we talked about it,” Dianne Burnett told me recently. In the small world of adventure racing, Mark developed a reputation as a slick and ambitious operator. “He’s like a rattlesnake,” one of his business competitors told the New York Times in 2000. “If you’re close enough long enough, you’re going to get bit.” Mark and Dianne were doing far better than Mark’s parents ever had, but he was restless. One day, they attended a seminar by the motivational speaker Tony Robbins called “Unleash the Power Within.” A good technique for realizing your goals, Robbins counselled, was to write down what you wanted most on index cards, then deposit them around your house, as constant reminders. In a 2012 memoir, “The Road to Reality,” Dianne Burnett recalls that she wrote the word “FAMILY” on her index cards. Mark wrote “MORE MONEY.”

As a young man, Burnett occasionally found himself on a flight for business, looking at the other passengers and daydreaming: If this plane were to crash on a desert island, where would I fit into our new society? Who would lead and who would follow? “Nature strips away the veneer we show one another every day, at which point people become who they really are,” Burnett once wrote. He has long espoused a Hobbesian world view, and when he launched “Survivor” a zero-sum ethos was integral to the show. “It’s quite a mean game, just like life is kind of a mean game,” Burnett told CNN, in 2001. “Everyone’s out for themselves.”

On “Survivor,” the competitors were split into teams, or “tribes.” In this raw arena, Burnett suggested, viewers could glimpse the cruel essence of human nature. It was undeniably compelling to watch contestants of different ages, body types, and dispositions negotiate the primordial challenges of making fire, securing shelter, and foraging for food. At the same time, the scenario was extravagantly contrived: the castaways were shadowed by camera crews, and helicopters thundered around the island, gathering aerial shots.

Moreover, the contestants had been selected for their charisma and their combustibility. “It’s all about casting,” Burnett once observed. “As a producer, my job is to make the choices in who to work with and put on camera.” He was always searching for someone with the sort of personality that could “break through the clutter.” In casting sessions, Burnett sometimes goaded people, to see how they responded to conflict. Katherine Walker, the “Apprentice” producer, told me about an audition in which Burnett taunted a prospective cast member by insinuating that he was secretly gay. (The man, riled, threw the accusation back at Burnett, and was not cast that season.)

Richard Levak, a clinical psychologist who consulted for Burnett on “Survivor” and “The Apprentice” and worked on other reality-TV shows, told me that producers have often liked people he was uncomfortable with for psychological reasons. Emotional volatility makes for compelling television. But recruiting individuals for their instability and then subjecting them to the stress of a televised competition can be perilous. When Burnett was once asked about Sinisa Savija’s suicide, he contended that Savija had “previous psychological problems.” No “Survivor” or “Apprentice” contestants are known to have killed themselves, but in the past two decades several dozen reality-TV participants have. Levak eventually stopped consulting on such programs, in part because he feared that a contestant might harm himself. “I would think, Geez, if this should unravel, they’re going to look at the personality profile and there may have been a red flag,” he recalled.

Burnett excelled at the casting equation to the point where, on Season 2 of “Survivor,” which was shot in the Australian outback, his castaways spent so much time gossiping about the characters from the previous season that Burnett warned them, “The more time you spend talking about the first ‘Survivor,’ the less time you will have on television.” But Burnett’s real genius was in marketing. When he made the rounds in L.A. to pitch “Survivor,” he vowed that it would become a cultural phenomenon, and he presented executives with a mock issue of Newsweek featuring the show on the cover. (Later, “Survivor” did make the cover of the magazine.) Burnett devised a dizzying array of lucrative product-integration deals. In the first season, one of the teams won a care package that was attached to a parachute bearing the red-and-white logo of Target.

“I looked on ‘Survivor’ as much as a marketing vehicle as a television show,” Burnett once explained. He was creating an immersive, cinematic entertainment—and he was known for lush production values, and for paying handsomely to retain top producers and editors—but he was anything but precious about his art. Long before he met Trump, Burnett had developed a Panglossian confidence in the power of branding. “I believe we’re going to see something like the Microsoft Grand Canyon National Park,” he told the New York Times in 2001. “The government won’t take care of all that—companies will.”

Seven weeks before the 2016 election, Burnett, in a smart tux with a shawl collar, arrived with his third wife, the actress and producer Roma Downey, at the Microsoft Theatre, in Los Angeles, for the Emmy Awards. Both “Shark Tank” and “The Voice” won awards that night. But his triumphant evening was marred when the master of ceremonies, Jimmy Kimmel, took an unexpected turn during his opening monologue. “Television brings people together, but television can also tear us apart,” Kimmel mused. “I mean, if it wasn’t for television, would Donald Trump be running for President?” In the crowd, there was laughter. “Many have asked, ‘Who is to blame for Donald Trump?’ ” Kimmel continued. “I’ll tell you who, because he’s sitting right there. That guy.” Kimmel pointed into the audience, and the live feed cut to a closeup of Burnett, whose expression resolved itself into a rigid grin. “Thanks to Mark Burnett, we don’t have to watch reality shows anymore, because we’re living in one,” Kimmel said. Burnett was still smiling, but Kimmel wasn’t. He went on, “I’m going on the record right now. He’s responsible. If Donald Trump gets elected and he builds that wall, the first person we’re throwing over it is Mark Burnett. The tribe has spoken.”

Around this time, Burnett stopped giving interviews about Trump or “The Apprentice.” He continues to speak to the press to promote his shows, but he declined an interview with me. Before Trump’s Presidential run, however, Burnett told and retold the story of how the show originated. When he met Trump at Wollman Rink, Burnett told him an anecdote about how, as a young man selling T-shirts on the boardwalk on Venice Beach, he had been handed a copy of “The Art of the Deal,” by a passing rollerblader. Burnett said that he had read it, and that it had changed his life; he thought, What a legend this guy Trump is!

Anyone else hearing this tale might have found it a bit calculated, if not implausible. Kym Gold, Burnett’s first wife, told me that she has no recollection of him reading Trump’s book in this period. “He liked mystery books,” she said. But when Trump heard the story he was flattered.

Burnett has never liked the phrase “reality television.” For a time, he valiantly campaigned to rebrand his genre “dramality”—“a mixture of drama and reality.” The term never caught on, but it reflected Burnett’s forthright acknowledgment that what he creates is a highly structured, selective, and manipulated rendition of reality. Burnett has often boasted that, for each televised hour of “The Apprentice,” his crews shot as many as three hundred hours of footage. The real alchemy of reality television is the editing—sifting through a compost heap of clips and piecing together an absorbing story. Jonathon Braun, an editor who started working with Burnett on “Survivor” and then worked on the first six seasons of “The Apprentice,” told me, “You don’t make anything up. But you accentuate things that you see as themes.” He readily conceded how distorting this process can be. Much of reality TV consists of reaction shots: one participant says something outrageous, and the camera cuts away to another participant rolling her eyes. Often, Braun said, editors lift an eye roll from an entirely different part of the conversation.

“The Apprentice” was built around a weekly series of business challenges. At the end of each episode, Trump determined which competitor should be “fired.” But, as Braun explained, Trump was frequently unprepared for these sessions, with little grasp of who had performed well. Sometimes a candidate distinguished herself during the contest only to get fired, on a whim, by Trump. When this happened, Braun said, the editors were often obliged to “reverse engineer” the episode, scouring hundreds of hours of footage to emphasize the few moments when the exemplary candidate might have slipped up, in an attempt to assemble an artificial version of history in which Trump’s shoot-from-the-hip decision made sense. During the making of “The Apprentice,” Burnett conceded that the stories were constructed in this way, saying, “We know each week who has been fired, and, therefore, you’re editing in reverse.” Braun noted that President Trump’s staff seems to have been similarly forced to learn the art of retroactive narrative construction, adding, “I find it strangely validating to hear that they’re doing the same thing in the White House.”

Such sleight of hand is the industry standard in reality television. But the entire premise of “The Apprentice” was also something of a con. When Trump and Burnett told the story of their partnership, both suggested that Trump was initially wary of committing to a TV show, because he was so busy running his flourishing real-estate empire. During a 2004 panel at the Museum of Television and Radio, in Los Angeles, Trump claimed that “every network” had tried to get him to do a reality show, but he wasn’t interested: “I don’t want to have cameras all over my office, dealing with contractors, politicians, mobsters, and everyone else I have to deal with in my business. You know, mobsters don’t like, as they’re talking to me, having cameras all over the room. It would play well on television, but it doesn’t play well with them.”

“The Apprentice” portrayed Trump not as a skeezy hustler who huddles with local mobsters but as a plutocrat with impeccable business instincts and unparalleled wealth—a titan who always seemed to be climbing out of helicopters or into limousines. “Most of us knew he was a fake,” Braun told me. “He had just gone through I don’t know how many bankruptcies. But we made him out to be the most important person in the world. It was like making the court jester the king.” Bill Pruitt, another producer, recalled, “We walked through the offices and saw chipped furniture. We saw a crumbling empire at every turn. Our job was to make it seem otherwise.”

Trump maximized his profits from the start. When producers were searching for office space in which to stage the show, he vetoed every suggestion, then mentioned that he had an empty floor available in Trump Tower, which he could lease at a reasonable price. (After becoming President, he offered a similar arrangement to the Secret Service.) When the production staff tried to furnish the space, they found that local venders, stiffed by Trump in the past, refused to do business with them.

More than two hundred thousand people applied for one of the sixteen spots on Season 1, and throughout the show’s early years the candidates were conspicuously credentialled and impressive. Officially, the grand prize was what the show described as “the dream job of a lifetime”—the unfathomable privilege of being mentored by Donald Trump while working as a junior executive at the Trump Organization. All the candidates paid lip service to the notion that Trump was a peerless businessman, but not all of them believed it. A standout contestant in Season 1 was Kwame Jackson, a young African-American man with an M.B.A. from Harvard, who had worked at Goldman Sachs. Jackson told me that he did the show not out of any desire for Trump’s tutelage but because he regarded the prospect of a nationally televised business competition as “a great platform” for career advancement. “At Goldman, I was in private-wealth management, so Trump was not, by any stretch, the most financially successful person I’d ever met or managed,” Jackson told me. He was quietly amused when other contestants swooned over Trump’s deal-making prowess or his elevated tastes—when they exclaimed, on tours of tacky Trump properties, “Oh, my God, this is so rich—this is, like, really rich!” Fran Lebowitz once remarked that Trump is “a poor person’s idea of a rich person,” and Jackson was struck, when the show aired, by the extent to which Americans fell for the ruse. “Main Street America saw all those glittery things, the helicopter and the gold-plated sinks, and saw the most successful person in the universe,” he recalled. “The people I knew in the world of high finance understood that it was all a joke.”

This is an oddly common refrain among people who were involved in “The Apprentice”: that the show was camp, and that the image of Trump as an avatar of prosperity was delivered with a wink. Somehow, this interpretation eluded the audience. Jonathon Braun marvelled, “People started taking it seriously!”

When I watched several dozen episodes of the show recently, I saw no hint of deliberate irony. Admittedly, it is laughable to hear the candidates, at a fancy meal, talk about watching Trump for cues on which utensil they should use for each course, as if he were Emily Post. But the show’s reverence for its pugnacious host, however credulous it might seem now, comes across as sincere.

Did Burnett believe what he was selling? Or was Trump another two-dollar T-shirt that he pawned off for eighteen? It’s difficult to say. One person who has collaborated with Burnett likened him to Harold Hill, the travelling fraudster in “The Music Man,” saying, “There’s always an angle with Mark. He’s all about selling.” Burnett is fluent in the jargon of self-help, and he has published two memoirs, both written with Bill O’Reilly’s ghostwriter, which double as manuals on how to get rich. One of them, titled “Jump In!: Even if You Don’t Know How to Swim,” now reads like an inadvertent metaphor for the Trump Presidency. “Don’t waste time on overpreparation,” the book advises.

At the 2004 panel, Burnett made it clear that, with “The Apprentice,” he was selling an archetype. “Donald is the real current-day version of a tycoon,” he said. “Donald will say whatever Donald wants to say. He takes no prisoners. If you’re Donald’s friend, he’ll defend you all day long. If you’re not, he’s going to kill you. And that’s very American. It’s like the guys who built the West.” Like Trump, Burnett seemed to have both a jaundiced impression of the gullible essence of the American people and a brazen enthusiasm for how to exploit it. “The Apprentice” was about “what makes America great,” Burnett said. “Everybody wants one of a few things in this country. They’re willing to pay to lose weight. They’re willing to pay to grow hair. They’re willing to pay to have sex. And they’re willing to pay to learn how to get rich.”

At the start of “The Apprentice,” Burnett’s intention may have been to tell a more honest story, one that acknowledged Trump’s many stumbles. Burnett surely recognized that Trump was at a low point, but, according to Walker, “Mark sensed Trump’s potential for a comeback.” Indeed, in a voice-over introduction in the show’s pilot, Trump conceded a degree of weakness that feels shockingly self-aware when you listen to it today: “I was seriously in trouble. I was billions of dollars in debt. But I fought back, and I won, big league.”

The show was an instant hit, and Trump’s public image, and the man himself, began to change. Not long after the première, Trump suggested in an Esquire article that people now liked him, “whereas before, they viewed me as a bit of an ogre.” Jim Dowd, Trump’s former publicist, told Michael Kranish and Marc Fisher, the authors of the 2016 book “Trump Revealed,” that after “The Apprentice” began airing “people on the street embraced him.” Dowd noted, “All of a sudden, there was none of the old mocking,” adding, “He was a hero.” Dowd, who died in 2016, pinpointed the public’s embrace of “The Apprentice” as “the bridge” to Trump’s Presidential run.

The show’s camera operators often shot Trump from low angles, as you would a basketball pro, or Mt. Rushmore. Trump loomed over the viewer, his face in a jowly glower, his hair darker than it is now, the metallic auburn of a new penny. (“Apprentice” employees were instructed not to fiddle with Trump’s hair, which he dyed and styled himself.) Trump’s entrances were choreographed for maximum impact, and often set to a moody accompaniment of synthesized drums and cymbals. The “boardroom”—a stage set where Trump determined which candidate should be fired—had the menacing gloom of a “Godfather” movie. In one scene, Trump ushered contestants through his rococo Trump Tower aerie, and said, “I show this apartment to very few people. Presidents. Kings.” In the tabloid ecosystem in which he had long languished, Trump was always Donald, or the Donald. On “The Apprentice,” he finally became Mr. Trump.

“We have to subscribe to our own myths,” the “Apprentice” producer Bill Pruitt told me. “Mark Burnett is a great mythmaker. He blew up that balloon and he believed in it.” Burnett, preferring to spend time pitching new ideas for shows, delegated most of the daily decisions about “The Apprentice” to his team, many of them veterans of “Survivor” and “Eco-Challenge.” But he furiously promoted the show, often with Trump at his side. According to many of Burnett’s collaborators, one of his greatest skills is his handling of talent—understanding their desires and anxieties, making them feel protected and secure. On interview tours with Trump, Burnett exhibited the studied instincts of a veteran producer: anytime the spotlight strayed in his direction, he subtly redirected it at Trump.

Burnett, who was forty-three when Season 1 aired, described the fifty-seven-year-old Trump as his “soul mate.” He expressed astonishment at Trump’s “laser-like focus and retention.” He delivered flattery in the ostentatiously obsequious register that Trump prefers. Burnett said he hoped that he might someday rise to Trump’s “level” of prestige and success, adding, “I don’t know if I’ll ever make it. But you know something? If you’re not shooting for the stars, you’re not shooting!” On one occasion, Trump invited Burnett to dinner at his Trump Tower apartment; Burnett had anticipated an elegant meal, and, according to an associate, concealed his surprise when Trump handed him a burger from McDonald’s.

Trump liked to suggest that he and Burnett had come up with the show “together”; Burnett never corrected him. When Carolyn Kepcher, a Trump Organization executive who appeared alongside Trump in early seasons of “The Apprentice,” seemed to be courting her own celebrity, Trump fired her and gave on-air roles to three of his children, Ivanka, Donald, Jr., and Eric. Burnett grasped that the best way to keep Trump satisfied was to insure that he never felt upstaged. “It’s Batman and Robin, and I’m clearly Robin,” he said.

Burnett sometimes went so far as to imply that Trump’s involvement in “The Apprentice” was a form of altruism. “This is Donald Trump giving back,” he told the Times in 2003, then offered a vague invocation of post-9/11 civic duty: “What makes the world a safe place right now? I think it’s American dollars, which come from taxes, which come because of Donald Trump.” Trump himself had been candid about his reasons for doing the show. “My jet’s going to be in every episode,” he told Jim Dowd, adding that the production would be “great for my brand.”

It was. Season 1 of “The Apprentice” flogged one Trump property after another. The contestants stayed at Trump Tower, did events at Trump National Golf Club, sold Trump Ice bottled water. “I’ve always felt that the Trump Taj Mahal should do even better,” Trump announced before sending the contestants off on a challenge to lure gamblers to his Atlantic City casino, which soon went bankrupt. The prize for the winning team was an opportunity to stay and gamble at the Taj, trailed by cameras.

“The Apprentice” was so successful that, by the time the second season launched, Trump’s lacklustre tie-in products were being edged out by blue-chip companies willing to pay handsomely to have their wares featured onscreen. In 2004, Kevin Harris, a producer who helped Burnett secure product-integration deals, sent an e-mail describing a teaser reel of Trump endorsements that would be used to attract clients: “Fast cutting of Donald—‘Crest is the biggest’ ‘I have worn Levis since I was 2’ ‘I love M&Ms’ ‘Unilever is the biggest company in the world’ all with the MONEY MONEY MONEY song over the top.”

Burnett and Trump negotiated with NBC to retain the rights to income derived from product integration, and split the fees. On set, Trump often gloated about this easy money. One producer remembered, “You’d say, ‘Hey, Donald, today we have Pepsi, and they’re paying three million to be in the show,’ and he’d say, ‘That’s great, I just made a million five!’ ”

Originally, Burnett had planned to cast a different mogul in the role of host each season. But Trump took to his part more nimbly than anyone might have predicted. He wouldn’t read a script—he stumbled over the words and got the enunciation all wrong. But off the cuff he delivered the kind of zesty banter that is the lifeblood of reality television. He barked at one contestant, “Sam, you’re sort of a disaster. Don’t take offense, but everyone hates you.” Katherine Walker told me that producers often struggled to make Trump seem coherent, editing out garbled syntax and malapropisms. “We cleaned it up so that he was his best self,” she said, adding, “I’m sure Donald thinks that he was never edited.” However, she acknowledged, he was a natural for the medium: whereas reality-TV producers generally must amp up personalities and events, to accentuate conflict and conjure intrigue, “we didn’t have to change him—he gave us stuff to work with.” Trump improvised the tagline for which “The Apprentice” became famous: “You’re fired.”

NBC executives were so enamored of their new star that they instructed Burnett and his producers to give Trump more screen time. This is when Trump’s obsession with television ratings took hold. “I didn’t know what demographics was four weeks ago,” he told Larry King. “All of a sudden, I heard we were No. 3 in demographics. Last night, we were No. 1 in demographics. And that’s the important rating.” The ratings kept rising, and the first season’s finale was the No. 1 show of the week. For Burnett, Trump’s rehabilitation was a satisfying confirmation of a populist aesthetic. “I like it when critics slam a movie and it does massive box office,” he once said. “I love it.” Whereas others had seen in Trump only a tattered celebrity of the eighties, Burnett had glimpsed a feral charisma.

On June 26, 2018, the day the Supreme Court upheld President Trump’s travel ban targeting people from several predominantly Muslim countries, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo sent out invitations to an event called a Ministerial to Advance Religious Freedom. If Pompeo registered any dissonance between such lofty rhetoric and Administration policies targeting certain religions, he didn’t mention it.

The event took place the next month, at the State Department, in Washington, D.C., and one of the featured speakers was Mark Burnett. In 2004, he had been getting his hair cut at a salon in Malibu when he noticed an attractive woman getting a pedicure. It was Roma Downey, the star of “Touched by an Angel,” a long-running inspirational drama on CBS. They fell in love, and married in 2007; together, they helped rear Burnett’s two sons from his second marriage and Downey’s daughter. Downey, who grew up in a Catholic family in Northern Ireland, is deeply religious, and eventually Burnett, too, reoriented his life around Christianity. “Faith is a major part of our marriage,” Downey said, in 2013, adding, “We pray together.”

For people who had long known Burnett, it was an unexpected turn. This was a man who had ended his second marriage during a live interview with Howard Stern. To promote “Survivor” in 2002, Burnett called in to Stern’s radio show, and Stern asked casually if he was married. When Burnett hesitated, Stern pounced. “You didn’t survive marriage?” he asked. “You don’t want your girlfriend to know you’re married?” As Burnett dissembled, Stern kept prying, and the exchange became excruciating. Finally, Stern asked if Burnett was “a single guy,” and Burnett replied, “You know? Yeah.” This was news to Dianne, Burnett’s wife of a decade. As she subsequently wrote in her memoir, “The 18-to-34 radio demographic knew where my marriage was headed before I did.”

In 2008, Burnett’s longtime business partner, a lawyer named Conrad Riggs, filed a lawsuit alleging that Burnett had stiffed him to the tune of tens of millions of dollars. According to the lawsuit, the two men had made an agreement before “Survivor” and “The Apprentice” that Riggs would own ten per cent of Burnett’s company. When Riggs got married, someone who attended the ceremony told me, Burnett was his best man, and gave a speech saying that his success would have been impossible without Riggs. Several years later, when Burnett’s company was worth half a billion dollars, he denied having made any agreement. The suit settled out of court. (Riggs declined to comment.)

Article from January 7, 2019 By Patrick Radden Keefe

Yobaba - New Yorker mag articles are LONG; I posted this mostly for my own reference so I will have a record of it; that said, I strongly urge everyone to read this. it explains a lot.

[footyplusau]

Leon Cameron throws challenge to GWS Giants star Jonathon Patton

Giants coach Leon Cameron has challenged star forward Jonathon Patton to maintain his high standards for the top-of-the-table showdown with Geelong this week.

Coming off a poor game before the bye, Patton responded with one of the best games of his injury-interrupted career on the weekend against Brisbane.

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Riewoldt denied certain major

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Dogs sneak past Roos by one point

Dogs sneak past Roos by one point

The Western Bulldogs put a horror month behind them with a one-point last minute win of the Kangaroos at Etihad Stadium.

Riewoldt denied certain major

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Riewoldt denied certain major

Riewoldt denied certain major

Nick Riewoldt looked destined to kick another six points but the Suns’ Jack Leslie had other ideas.

Saints return to top eight

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Saints return to top eight

Saints return to top eight

St Kilda are back inside the top eight after a sluggish 32-point win over Gold Coast at Etihad Stadium.

AFL plays of round 14

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AFL plays of round 14

AFL plays of round 14

Hawk Mitchell helps ground the Crows, Swan Mills takes a ripper defensive grab, Roo Higgins does a ‘Charlie Dixon’, Dees break a western hoodoo and the final touch from Docker Walters delivers ecstasy for Chris Scott .

Richmond continue dominance of Carlton

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Richmond continue dominance of Carlton

Richmond continue dominance of Carlton

Richmond have continued their dominance of Carlton, sealing a sixth straight win over the Blues.

Sea Eagles too good for Sharks

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Sea Eagles too good for Sharks

Sea Eagles too good for Sharks

There was no second-half turnaround for the Sharks this week as the Sea Eagles leapfrog them on the ladder.

Frantic finish from Fremantle

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Frantic finish from Fremantle

Frantic finish from Fremantle

The Dockers gave it their all in the final 30 seconds against Geelong to set up a frantic finish decided in the final kick of the game.

Cats win after Walters misses on siren

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Cats win after Walters misses on siren

Cats win after Walters misses on siren

Geelong have held on by two-points at home to Fremantle, after Michael Walters missed a shot from 20 metres on the siren.

Dogs sneak past Roos by one point

The Western Bulldogs put a horror month behind them with a one-point last minute win of the Kangaroos at Etihad Stadium.

Playing as a ruck-forward rather than his customary role exclusively in attack, Patton bagged four goals to go with 23 possessions and 13 marks.

His performance drew plaudits from the great Leigh Matthews, and gives Greater Western Sydney more flexibility inside their forward 50.

Response: Patton’s game against Brisbane was one of his best.  Photo: Getty Images

Giants big man Rory Lobb, who resumed in the reserves on the weekend, had been playing that ruck-forward role before he was injured.

“It was an outstanding game,” Matthews said on Channel Seven’s AFL Game Day program.

“If he can play at that level consistently, that’s another string to what is another pretty good bow the Giants have in their forward group.”

Cameron said Patton had bounced back from an ordinary month against Brisbane, but stiffer opposition awaits on Saturday night at Spotless Stadium in the form of the third-placed Cats.

“I will be the first to admit his last three to four weeks have been up and down,” Cameron said.

“We challenged him strongly during the week, he challenged himself really which is pleasing.

“When you have players reflecting on their own performance in a way you don’t sugarcoat it, then you’re getting somewhere. Jon didn’t sugarcoat his performance against Carlton.

“I thought he really jumped at the footy and gave us something different in the ruck. It’s a step in the right direction.

“The challenge for Jon, we come up against Geelong in what will be a cracking game. You won’t always be able to produce that and take your five or six contested marks, kick four goals, but what you want to be able to do is keep the backline guessing what you’re going to do because your workrate and appetite is always there.”

The Giants will monitor Josh Kelly through the week after the young gun missed the game against the Lions with a hip injury.

Youngster Tim Taranto will have scans on his shin but the club is confident he has avoided injury.

Lobb and young gun Will Setterfield both came back in the NEAFL against Brisbane but may need more time in the seconds after lengthy layoffs.

The post Leon Cameron throws challenge to GWS Giants star Jonathon Patton appeared first on Footy Plus.

from Footy Plus http://ift.tt/2tafwQx via http://footyplus.net

[hatohouse-blog]

Some Questions For Easy Strategies In Game Fishing Equipment

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COSTA BLANCA BOWLS ROUNDUP 22 JANUARY 17 has been published at http://www.theleader.info/2017/01/22/costa-blanca-bowls-roundup-22-january-17/

New Post has been published on http://www.theleader.info/2017/01/22/costa-blanca-bowls-roundup-22-january-17/

COSTA BLANCA BOWLS ROUNDUP 22 JANUARY 17

LA MARINA BOWLS CLUB REPORT BY BARRY LATHAM

What a couple of great games in each of the Monday leagues.  Unfortunately both our teams lost 8-6. In the Enterprise Division the Explorers played San Luis Klingons away, both sides had 3 winning rinks but the space travellers got the overall shots. Alex Whyte, Dave Hadaway and Kathy Manning won 19-15. Likewise Tom Spencer, Mike Smith and Anne Stone beat the Jones’s 17-14 and the other winning rink by one shot, was Margaret and Rob Finlayson with Maureen Kidd. So to the Discovery League where the Pathfinders at home played La Siesta Apollos.

Barry Latham

How about this for a close result, two wins each, two draws each, two losses each and the Apollos had one shot advantage to get the extra points. Colin and Lynn Armitage with Clive Pratt and also Jean Perchard, Bernie Carr and Peter Bailey both drew 17-17 all against their opposition.  The two winners were John Morgan, Paul Tregoing and Mo Taylor plus John Withers, Martin Butler and Alan Wilcock.  I bet that doesn’t happen very often unless Arthur can tell me different. Winter League in the true sense and a little bit of history in our case.  Went to La Siesta to play our match only to be snowed off. Never before in La Marina history.

With the torrential rain that followed on Thursday the Dolphins and the Sharks had their games called off.  The Seagulls played  San Miguel Jaguars in glorious sunshine on Friday afternoon only to lose 10-4.  Disappointing but they were a good side. Sue Daniels, Mike Stone and Mo Taylor had a fine win and so did Colin Armitage, Arthur Cronk and Ann Stone.

SAN LUIS BOWLS CLUB REPORT 20.01.17.

Talking about the weather is quite normal for us Brits, but even our Spanish neighbours have been amazed by this week’s events.

South Alicante Winter Triples: Monday 16th, Enterprise Div. SL Klingons home v LM Explorers, useful points 8-6, 106 shots-91. Winners: Shirley Verity, Jo & Julian Pering 17-14, Colin Jackson, Sabrina & Russell Marks 26-8, Kath Reid, Keith Phillips, Giuseppe Galelli 20-18.

San Luis Bowls Club

SL Trekkers, away v VB Albatrosses had a tough match 4pts-10, 79 shots-108. Winners: Margaret & Barry Roseveare, Neil Morrison 14-13, Mags Haines, Derrick Cooper, Brian Pocock 15-11. Discovery Div. SL Romulans, away v a strong EI Titans team, took 4pts-10, shots 86-146. Well done to: Sheila Reynolds, Derek Smith, Margaret Clarke 22-19, Kath Waywell, Chris Phillips, Harry Epsom 17-12.

Winter League: Wednesday 18th away v Greenlands, was “SNOWED OFF” to be replayed Tuesday 31st. Just when we thought the weather couldn’t give us any more surprises, suddenly there was snow- it came at different times and different ways from big, soft snowflakes drifting down at 8:00 am. around Horadada, Cabo Roig & La Florida but only reaching Greenlands, where it was initially clear and dry, around 10:00am. Suddenly there was a white cloud of mini “polystyrene balls” type snow smothering everything. In a pre match test the jack was able to travel a few feet before stopping, the bowls ran a short distance before turning into “snow-bowls” as they ground to a halt.

Thursday 19th FED 4’s League all matches completely washed out by torrential rain;

Div A SL Ospreys; away v SM Cherokees, Div B SL Condors away v SM Mohawks

Div C SL Bazas home v EI Shamrocks, all matches to be re-arranged.

Finally the elements relented to allow the matches to be played; Friday 20th LLB Southern League, SL Lions a bad day at the office v MM Matadors, although very close on shots 105-108, points 2-12. Winners: Pat & Graham Bird, Peter McEneany 19-14. SL Tigers away v VB Picadores, a tough match: shots 95-136, 4pts-10. Well done to: Allen Bowen, Les Bedford, Sue Cooper 21-12, Margaret & Barry Roseveare, Neil Morrison 22-14. SL Pumas home v MM Toreadores, useful points 6-8, 90 shots-113. Winners: Chris Lythe, Margaret Clarke, Norman Stephens 20-16, Margaret Stephens, Terry Baylis, Geoff Shand 23-9.

For more information about San Luis Bowls Club, please check the club website: www.sanluisbowls.byethost7.com                

Sheila Cammack.

VISTABELLA BOWLS REPORT WITH LYNNE BISHOP.

That was a week that was! Monday’s S.A. Leagues proceeded quite normally with the Enterprise Albatrosses at home v San Luis Trekkers, a nice win to start the week. G Paylor, S Allman & E Bishop 30-13. B Regan, D Howard & A Brown 21-12. S Kirk, StJ Broadhurst & J Bowman 17-13. L Watkins, S Burrows & M Furness 16-12. Shots, VB 108 (10) – 79 (4) SL.

Vistabella Bowls Club

The Drivers did really well away to Quesada Pearls, winning three rinks and the long game. P Rafferty, D Chaplin & C Thorpe 20-8. S Whitehall, M Foulcer & Pat Rafferty 25-13. J Chaplin, S Norris & I Kenyon 20-10. Shots,VB 111 (8) – 98 (6) Q.

Voyager League Eagles had a bye.

Winter League snow-bowling! With snow falling all around, our home game v San Miguel got off to a tricky start, it was adjourned after five ends and resumed after hot drinks and a break in the weather.. though only briefly, sufficient ends were played before it became too difficult. Terrible freezing conditions out there but pleased to get the game played. Well done everyone concerned and it was a good win for the home team. L Bishop, P Tomkins, A Brown & I Kenyon 16-6. L Watkins, T French, C Thorpe & M Furness 16-8. B Regan, C Watkins, S Allman & B Dunn 11-6.S Burrows, B Brown, M Regan & G Thorpe 13-10. Shots, VB 67-(10) – 44-(2) SM.

San Miguel won the Berleen.

Fed 4’s match was cancelled due to heavy rain.

Southern League Lanzadores and the Conquistadores  were both cancelled but the Picadors home match against the San Luis tigers went ahead and ended with a great win. D Gunning, J Neve & M Foulcer 37-9. S Kirk, B Pointon & C Thorpe 25-16. F Barclay, B Ewart & G Thorpe 26-13. T French, S Norris & B Norris 22-14. Shots, VB 136 (10) – 95(4) SL.

Sponsored by Venture Fleet, Autos Direct, Rivingtons Restaurant & TV Choice

EL RANCHO BOWLS CLUB.

Monday found The Pintos playing away to Monte Mar Torreadores, a venue most of us enjoy playing, certainly I do, but alas, quite rightly it was my turn to be rested. The Pintos came away with 2 rinks and judging by the shots, several rinks could have gone either way, a fair result.  Judy Foley, Ann Taylor and Jim Taylor 18-17. Pam Harris, Liam Foley and John Skipper 15-20. Emma Walsh, Brian Harris and Merv Armstrong 12-27. Val Ryder, Barry Bright and Geoff Jones 15-19. Henry Ryder, Jan Bright and Richard Lee 16-23. Jim Gracie, Irene Thomson and Eddie Thomson 17-16.

Meanwhile The Broncos had a bye and played a friendly match against Vistabella.

On Friday The Mustangs played The Cougars at San Miguel, on a saturated mat that remained so despite the day changing from miserable to glorious, within the duration of the match. But the mat was playable and we had a good close match in great company. The Mustangs came away with two rinks and one drawn, a good result with just a 13 shot deficit.  Jim Taylor, Irene Thomson and Eddie Thomson 24-11. Ann Taylor, Malc Sykes and Jim Gracie 20-23. June Whitfield, Jane Hamill and Stew Hamill 19-19. Henry Ryder, Merv Armstrong and David Whitworth 7-23. Judy Foley, Keith Cunningham and Geoff Jones 13-24. Barbara Jones, Sheila Cooper and Carolyn Harris 17-13.

The Raider’s Home match against Emerald Isle Outlaws was postponed due to the mat being unplayable; the new play date is yet to be decided. For membership details contact Brian Taylor on 965077093 or at briantaylor_es@yahoo.co.uk or Carolyn Harris on 966774316 or at elranchobowls.secretary@gmail.com

EMERALD ISLE BOWLS CLUB

Fri 13th Jan.   E.I. Claymores v La Siesta.   A bad day at the office for the Claymores only winning on one rink & losing the shots by 79-134. Points 2-12. Our winning rink: John Jarvis- Ed Shepherd – Jim Mulloy.  (12-4).

13th Jan.  E.I. Outlaws v E.I. Roundheads.  A great result for the Outlaws, winning on 5 rinks, & Shots by, 117-77, Winning rinks for Outlaws: Maureen Foulds- Tony Harris-Ernie Bennett (26-9).    Lil Harris- Sheila Wickens- Ally Burns (20-13). Maureen Jeffs – Robin Adams- Frank King. (17-13).     Vic Cameron-Mike Petty-Alec Fay-(25-9). Linda Burns- Glyn Inwood- Ron Ede.  (20-12). Roundheads winners:   Bernie Evans- Tony Capewell- John Evans. (21-9). Just what the Outlaws needed,   Bad luck Roundheads.

Mon 16th.  E.I. Moonrakers v Mazarron Mariners.   A fine result for the Moonrakers, winning on 4 rinks, & shots by, 116-79,   Points-10 – 4. Winning Moonrakers: Maureen Foulds- Tony Harris- Ally. Burns (24-14).      Lil Harris- Sheila Wickens- Alec Fay. (25-7). Robin Adams- Frank King- Margaret Breen.  (18-9). Vic Cameron-Maureen Jeffs- Ernie Bennett. (24-11). Welcome back to Margaret Breen, our new Capt.

E.I. Titans v San Luis Romulans:  A great result for the Titans, winning 4 rinks & the shots by, 146-86.   Points 10-4 to the Isle.   What a win against a very good team. E.I. Winners:   Jean Parkes- Lin Day- Paul Parkes- ((21-18). Mary Whitelock – Colin Highland – Mike Stacey. (18-16). Mel Highland- Ron White- Ann Marie Stevenson. (26.7). Dennis Rhodes- Keith Jolliffe – Drew Gerrard.  (50-6). Dennis, Keith & Drew, you are now Legends in your own lunchtime.

16th Jan.  E.I. Neptunes v Greenlands Sycamores. Another very good win for the Neptunes,  winning on 4 rinks & taking the shots by,  127-90,   Points- 10-4 to the Isle. E,I. Winners:  Carol Donnellan- Brian Kavanagh- Dennis Birkett. (40-7). Margaret Riley, Barbara Eldred- John Mullarkey (23-10).     Barbara Doran- Cas Thomas-Mike Thomas.  ((22-19).    John Jarvis- Ed Shepherd- Jim Mulloy. (19-18).

Just what the Neptunes needed.  Regret no result submitted for Saturns so no report, sorry.

Winter League, Wed 18th.  And then came the SNOW, no game!

Thursday 19th, Fed 4s. Now wind rain & Thunder, What is. Going on?

Happy Bowling,   Robin (the scribe) Adams.

GREENLANDS BOWLS CLUB

In the Enterprise Division the Maples were at home to San Miguel Pulsars. Final score was: total shots for – 86-106 against.  Points for 6-8 against.  Winning rinks were Dennis Brown, Chris Dewar, skip Sue Brown. 19 – 11.  Sandra Jones, Zoe Wilcock, skip Jim Wilcock. 15 – 12.  Jean Thompson, Joan Oliver, skip Marilyn Fryatt 21 – 15.

In the Discovery Division, The Sycamores were home to Emerald Isle Neptunes. Final score was: Shots for 90-127 against. Points for 4-10 against. Winning rinks were – Diane Lawton, Mary Lockley, skip John O’Brien. 17 – 15.  Jean Giddings, Phil Lockley, skip Graham Watt. 19 – 8.

LA SIESTA BOWLS CLUB BY ROD EDGERTON

The Apollos continued their challenge for promotion by the narrowest of wins way at La Marina Pathfinders the overall shots score being 104 shots to 103 in favour of the Apollos. Two matches were drawn with score being 17 apiece whilst the 18-11 win by Robert and Ann Heath with John Ball being the highest margin victory. Barbara and Jack Cooper with George Richardson managed a narrow 17-15 win against their opponents this ensured that La Siesta picked up 8 points to La Marina’s 6.

The Pioneers entertained promotion challenging Quesada Diamonds and this showed in a resounding win for the Diamonds by 152 shots to 85.The winning rink for The Pioneers was achieved by Dennis Andrew, Val Dalton and Fred Charman by 21 shots to 19 which included nearly getting a hot shot with 8 points scored on one end. The overall points being 12-2 to Quesada.

In the Fed 4’s  the Hoopoes travelled to Montemar Picadors in windy and cold conditions and came back with a 6-2 win by 62 shots to 48 with the winning rinks being Barbara and Jack Cooper with Bill and Sue Jordan 27-10 and Val Dalton, Jean Hepehi with Florence and Mike Edwards winning 28-14.

On Wednesday morning the Winter League match at home to La Marina was postponed due to snow. Yes, snow. The fixture has been re-arranged for the following Sunday.

Due to the inclement weather the Blues match has been postponed and with the Golds having a bye nothing further to report this week.

  MONTE MAR BOWLS AND SOCIAL CLUB

Sponsored by The Belfry, The Pub, Bowling Abroad and Avalon

Tuesday January 10th – Federated Fours Monte Mar Lords v San Miguel Mohawks. Winning on all rinks well done everyone. Shots Lords 66 – 31  Mohawks. Points Lords 8 – 0 Mohawks

Monday January 16th – Monte Mar Toreadors v El Rancho Pintos. A lovely January day, if a bit windy for bowling. The Toreadors reversed there defeat earlier in the season at El Rancho with a good overall performance, winning on four rinks and losing on two rinks by one shot on each of the rinks.

Well done to the winning rinks of Sheila Roberts, Dave Roberts and skip Ron Jones, Lesley Jones, Rita Towle and skip Joan Harding, Cliff Norris, Howie Williams and skip Graham Smyth, Jan Soars, Chris Harding and skip Mick Soars. Shots Toreadors 122 – 93 Pintos. Points Toreadors 10 – 4 Pintos.

Monte Mar Matadors v San Miguel Meteors. Winning on one rink well done to Ethal Finan, Chris Merry and skip Tony Finan. Shots Matadors 77 – 111 Meteors. Points Matadors 2 – 12 Meteors.

Friday January 20th – Monte Mar Matadors v San Luis Lions

A fantastic result winning on five rinks. Well done Sue Kemp, June Young and skip Brian Zelin. Pauline Merry, David Eades and skip Chris Merry. Geraldine Fisher, Mike Farrelly and skip Gordon Fisher. Keith Simpson, Joe Ridley and skip Diane Ridley. Ethal Finan, Val Hignett and skip Tony Finan. Shots Matadors 108 – 105 San Luis. Points Matadors 12 – 2 San Luis.

Monte Mar Toreadors v San Luis Pumas – Very unexpectedly after the recent weather we arrived on the rink at San Luis in bright sunshine. Despite the fact we played with one rink short which meant we conceded two points and ten shots before we started we secured a win.

So well done to the winning rinks of Cliff Norris, Howie Williams and skip Graham Smyth. Rita Towle, Bill Webster and skip Joan Harding. Sheila Roberts, Jan Webster and skip Barrie Woodvine. Shots Toreadors 113 – 90 Pumas. Points Toreadors 8 – 6 Pumas.

For further information about Monte Mar Bowls and Social Club check out our website  www.montemarbowls.com or email us at info@montemarbowls.com. We are also on Facebook.

SAN MIGUEL BOWLS CLUB BY PAT MCEWAN

San Miguel Comets had a good result against Country Bowls Flamingoes winning 10points to 4.  Well done to Bill & Joyce Reeves, Mike Bayfield 16-13:  Meg Brownlee, Jim Jarvie, Carl Eagle 19-12:  Bob Nesbitt, Dave Champion, Barbara Scotthern 33-9:  Sheila Erringt:on, Frank Scotthern, Brian Errington 15-9.  Shots for 104 – Against 83.

The Pulsars won 8-6 at Greenlands, total shots 106 for, against 86.  Peter & Brenda Rees, John Staden 25-9:   Alan & Sheila Booth, Gary Raby 25-9:  Eileen McLaren, Tom Dalgleish, Eddie Cowan 21-13.

The Meteors had a great result at home against Monte Mar Matadors winning 12-2.  Reg Cooper, Cliff Plaisted, Steve Cantley 28-12:  Val & Chris Collier, Stuart Denholm 17-15:  Noel Davis, Lee Sinclair, Lynn Greenland 20-13:  Carol Rudge, Don Whitney, Stuart Hemmings 19-12:  Brian Miller, Mary Dyer, Lin Miller 17-9.  Shots for 111- against 77.

Believe it or not, the Winter League played their game on the snowy Wednesday at Vistabella. Couldn’t have been at a worse green, which is totally exposed to the elements!! After playing 5/6 ends they had to stop due to heavy snow, they had a coffee break for 45 mins, then resumed playing. At the time they were winning on 3 rinks.  Due to further heavy snow, they had to stop playing on the 14th ends.  The final result being San Miguel 2 points, Vistabella 10 points. The winning team Cliff Plaisted, Val & Chris Collier, Stuart Denholm 14-11.  Well done to the Berleen who also won. Total shots for 44 – against 67.  Team Captain would like to thank all who played in dreadful conditions, and has promised hot toddies all round!!!!

All Fed 4 games were cancelled on Thursday due to flooded greens and heavy rain.  Please contact team captains for rearranged times.

In the Southern league, the Jaguars had a good win away at La Marina winning 10 points to 4, with a great shot difference, 126 to 86.  Very well done to Eileen McLaren, Eddie Cowan, John Raby 19-13:  Ken Hope, Sheila Booth, Gary Raby 17-13:  Anita Brown, Ron Nairey, Paul Thomas 22-12:  Pat McEwan, Janet Thomas, Dave McEwan 39-5.

The Cougars won 9-5 against El Rancho Mustangs, with Bob Nesbitt, Peter Ross, Bill Brownlee 19 across:  Sheila Errington, David Champion, Brian Errington 23-7:  Bill Reeves, Carl Eagle, Mike Bayfield 23-20:  Bill Moseley, Jim Jarvie, Frank Scotthern 24-13:  Total shots 113 for – against 100.

For further details on San Miguel Bowls Club, please contact the President, Eileen Potts, telephone 966730376 or Secretary, Pat McEwan telephone 966714257.