#Grow Hair Product Illinois

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … November 26

1905 – Emlyn Williams, Welsh actor born (d.1987). He was born into a Welsh-speaking, working class family in Mostyn, Flintshire. Aged 11 he won a scholarship to Holywell Grammar School. At the end of his time at the grammar school he won a scholarship to Christ Church, Oxford and joined the Oxford University Dramatic Society (OUDS)

In 1927, He joined a repertory company and began his stage career. By 1930, he had branched out into writing, and his first major success was with the thriller Night Must Fall (1935), which was made into a film in 1937 and again in 1964. His other great play was very different: The Corn is Green (1938), partly based on his own childhood, and also later filmed. In addition to stage plays, Williams wrote a number of film screenplays, working with Alfred Hitchcock and other directors.

He acted in and contributed dialogue to various films based on the novels of A.J. Cronin, including The Citadel (1938), The Stars Look Down (1940), Hatter's Castle (1942), and Web of Evidence (1959). In 1941 Williams starred in the film You Will Remember, based on the life of the popular late Victorian songwriter Leslie Stuart, played by Robert Morley, with Williams as Stuart's best friend.

Williams often appeared in his own plays, and was famous for his one-man-shows, with which he toured the world, playing Charles Dickens in an evening of excerpts from Dickens' novels. This "one man show" was the start of a whole new theatrical genre. He followed up his Dickens performance with one man shows based on the works of Dylan Thomas, Dylan Thomas Growing Up, and H.H. Munro better known under his pseudonym Saki.

Williams' autobiography, in the volumes George (1961) and Emlyn (1973), was also highly successful. In both books, he wrote frankly of his homosexual experiences; indeed, he was publicly "out" as a bisexual before other better-known gay literary celebrities, such as his close friend and contemporary Christopher Isherwood. In Emlyn he recounts the story of his love affair with an actor on the skids. It is beautifully told and considering that Williams was a married man with children when he wrote it, is boldly courageous in its honesty. He also describes his Gay life in New York in the 1920s, including a rather hilarious scene at the Everard Baths regarding someone's false teeth coming loose in an act of fellatio. Despite his homosexuality, as many gay men of his generation did, as has already been said, he had married in 1935 and had a son; his wife died in 1970.

1926 – Michael Butler (d.2022) was an American theatrical producer born on this date; he is best known for bringing the rock musical Hair from the Public Theater to Broadway in 1968. During his time as Hair producer he was dubbed by the press as "the hippie millionaire". Other Broadway production credits include the play Lenny in 1971 and the musical Reggae in 1980.

Butler was born in Chicago, Illinois into a wealthy family. In the early 19th century, his ancestors started a paper company on the Fox River in St. Charles, Illinois, and supplied paper for the U.S. Congress. The business was later moved to Chicago, where it was at one time one of the city's oldest family owned business, and later diversified into dairy, ranching, aviation. Butler's father helped found the village of Oak Brook, Illinois and the Oak Brook Polo Club.

Butler served as Special Advisor to then-Senator John F. Kennedy on the Middle East, Chancellor of the Lincoln Academy, Commissioner of the Port of Chicago, President of the Organization of Economic Development in Illinois, Assistant to Illinois Governor Otto Kerner, Jr., President of the Illinois Sports Council, and he was a Democratic Candidate in Du Page County for the State Senate.

Butler was the godson of Tyrone Power, and in his early twenties he lived with Power and his wife, actress Linda Christian. Rumour has it he had affair with both of them. He was also involved with Rock Hudson. Through Power's friend, film director Edmund Goulding, he befriended the Kennedy family, particularly Joe and John F. Kennedy. Butler and JFK socialized often in Hyannisport, Greenwich Village and in Newport, R.I.

Rock Hudson and Michael Butler

Butler dated Candice Bergen, Nati Abascal and Audrey Hepburn, with whom he had a relationship in the early 1950s before her marriage to Mel Ferrer. Butler was involved in Hepburn accepting a role in the New York production of the play Ondine, where she worked with Ferrer soon before marrying him. He has a son, Adam, from his 1962 marriage to Loyce Stinson Hand.

Around the time of his first association with Hair, Butler became a political activist. Before the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago he arranged a meeting between Chicago mayor Richard Daley and Abbie Hoffman, recommending that the party cultivate the Yippie vote. He held "Cause" meetings in Oak Brook, Illinois in the summer of 1969 with Tom Smothers, Peter Yarrow, and Black Panther Fred Hampton, among others. Butler donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to left-leaning causes and was listed on Richard Nixon's Enemies List.

1947 – Jim Owles (d.1993) was the founding president of the Gay Activists Alliance and the first openly gay candidate for political office in New York City.

James W. Owles was born in Calumet City, Ill. He attended the University of Illinois and then served in the Air Force.

In December 1969, he helped found the Gay Activists Alliance in New York City with Arthur Bell, Martin Robinson and others. As president of the alliance from 1970 to 1971, Mr. Owles advocated anti-discrimination bills in Albany and New York City.

"We do not ask for any respectability or sympathy from straight people," he declared in a letter to the State Legislature in February 1971. Others' opinions, he said, "are of no interest to us except to the extent that these private bigotries are allowed to become public policy."

In 1971, on the eve of the second annual gay pride march, Mr. Owles said: "It's a lot more difficult to march out of the closet than to march for peace. It can cost you your job or your career." He envisioned a future in which homosexuals would "show straights and themselves that being gay means something more than the baths and the bars," and he said he expected to work for gay rights "till I die."

During demonstrations, known as "zaps," mounted by the alliance, Owles was arrested many times. In April 1972, at the annual Inner Circle dinner of City Hall reporters at the New York Hilton, Mr. Owles grabbed the microphone onstage to denounce press coverage, and a melee erupted in which he and Morty Manford were seriously injured.

In January 1973, Mr. Owles declared his candidacy for the City Council district encompassing Greenwich Village, which he called the nation's "largest gay ghetto." He described himself as the first openly gay candidate for office in New York City.

Although he failed in his bid for council, Owles went on to be a founder of the Gay and Lesbian Independent Democrats in 1974, the first such political club in the city. In 1985, he was one of the seven founding members of the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, which monitors the coverage and depiction of lesbians and gay men in the media.

Until illness forced him to step down in 1993, Jim Owles was a special assistant and liaison to the lesbian and gay community for the State Senate minority leader, Manfred Ohrenstein. He had worked for the Senator, a Manhattan Democrat, since the early 1980's.

He died in 1993. The cause was AIDS-related toxoplasmosis.

1957 – The Cuban-born artist Felix Gonzalez-Torres was born (d.1996). He grew up in Puerto Rico before moving to New York City. Gonzalez-Torres had his first one-man exhibition at Andrea Rosen Gallery in 1990. His work was the focus of several major museum solo exhibitions in his lifetime and after his death. Retrospectives of his work have been organized by the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York (1995), the Sprengel Museum in Hannover, Germany (1997), and the Serpentine Gallery in London (2000).

Gonzalez-Torres was known for his quiet, minimal installations and sculptures. Using materials such as strings of lightbulbs, clocks, stacks of paper, or packaged hard candies, Felix Gonzalez-Torres's work is sometimes considered a reflection of his experience with AIDS.

Many of Gonzalez-Torres's installations invite the viewer to take a piece of the work with them: a series of works allow viewers to take packaged candies from a pile in the corner of an exhibition space, while another series is comprised of stacks of ultrathin sheets of clear plastic or unlimited edition prints, also free for the viewer to take. These installations are replenished by the exhibitor as they diminish. The most pervasive reading of Gonzalez-Torres's work takes the processes his works undergo (lightbulbs expiring, piles of candies dispersing, etc.) as metaphor for the process of dying.

"Untitled"

One of his most recognizable works, Untitled (1992) is a billboard put up in New York City of a a sensual black-and-white photograph of Gonzalez-Torres's empty, unmade bed with traces of two absent bodies. It was installed on twenty-four billboards throughout New York. This enigmatic image was both a celebration of coupling and a memorial to the artist's lover, Ross, who had recently died of AIDS. In one interview, he said "When people ask me, 'Who is your public?' I say honestly, without skipping a beat, 'Ross.' The public was Ross. The rest of the people just come to the work."

1957 – Simon Nkoli (d.1998) was an anti-apartheid, gay rights and AIDS activist in South Africa.

Nkoli was born in Soweto in a seSotho-speaking family. He grew up on a farm in the Free State and his family later moved to Sebokeng. Nkoli became a youth activist against apartheid, with the Congress of South African Students (COSAS) and with the United Democratic Front.

In 1983, he joined the mainly white Gay Association of South Africa, then he formed the Saturday Group, the first black gay group in Africa.

Nkoli spoke at rallies in support of rent-boycotts in the Vaal townships and in 1984 he was arrested and faced the death penalty for treason with twenty-one other political leaders in the Delmas Treason Trial, including Popo Molefe and Patrick Lekota, collectively known as the Delmas 22. By coming out while a prisoner, he helped change the attitude of the African National Congress to gay rights. He was acquitted and released from prison in 1988.

He founded the Gay and Lesbian Organisation of the Witwatersrand in 1988. He traveled widely and was given several human rights awards in Europe and North America. He was a member of International Lesbian and Gay Association board, representing the African region.

He was one of the first gay activists to meet with President Nelson Mandela in 1994. He helped in the campaign for the inclusion of protection from discrimination in the Bill of Rights in the 1994 South African constitution and for the repeal of the sodomy law, which happened in May 1998 in his last months.

After becoming one of the first publicly HIV-positive African gay men, he initiated the Positive African Men group based in central Johannesburg. He had been infected with HIV for around 12 years, and had been seriously ill, on and off, for the last four. He died of AIDS in 1998 in Johannesburg.

1973 – Jonathan Caouette is an American film director, writer, editor and actor.

Caouette is the director and editor of Tarnation (2003), an autobiographical documentary, that premiered at the Sundance and Cannes film festivals in 2003 and the director of All Tomorrow's Parties about the cult music festival. Caouette has also directed the experimental short film All Flowers in Time and the feature documentary Walk Away Renee. The latter was produced by Agnes B and premiered at the 2011 Cannes Film Festival. In 2009, Caouette served as a creative advisor for director Matthew Mishory's film, Delphinium: A Childhood Portrait of Derek Jarman.

As an actor, Caouette played a major role in the 2006 film Fat Girls and the film Portland in 2012. He also appeared in Shortbus, directed by John Cameron Mitchell.

Caouette has a son, Josh, who was featured in the 2008 documentary Bi the Way. Caouette is gay and lives with his husband David in New York City.

1983 – Today, one of the inventors of Facebook and Obama's tech wizard Chris Hughes was born. Hughes co-founded and served as spokesperson for the online social directory, Facebook, with Harvard roommates Mark Zuckerberg and Dustin Moskovitz. Hughes currently serves as a consultant for the popular site, but primarily acts as coordinator of online organizing within the Barack Obama presidential campaign on My.BarackObama.com, the campaign's online social networking website. He also served on the National Board of Directors of the Roosevelt Institution in 2005 and 2006.

Chris Hughes was born in Hickory, North Carolina, a small, conservative town in the western part of the state. Not entirely comfortable in his hometown, he longed to go away to prep school. Given his family's modest income, achieving that dream seemed unlikely; nevertheless, as a high school freshman Hughes, unbeknownst to his parents, applied to a number of boarding schools. The prestigious Phillips Academy in Andover, Massachusetts not only accepted him but also offered financial aid that would allow him to attend.

While he was at Phillips, Hughes recognized that he was gay. "I went to boarding school Southern, religious, and straight, and I left boarding school not being at all religious and not being straight," he stated to Ellen McGirt of Fast Company.

During his sophomore year he roomed with Mark Zuckerberg, a student who was working with another dorm-mate, Dustin Moskovitz, to create an on-line version of Harvard's "facebook," a publication with photos and basic information about students to help them meet each other. Zuckerberg invited Hughes to join the project.

Zuckerberg and Moskovitz were computer geeks proficient in the technical aspects of the process, such as writing software codes. Hughes's emphasis was on the users: how they would want to connect with others, how they could share information, how their concerns about privacy could be addressed.

Hughes's input earned him the nickname "the Empath"—perhaps slightly derisive among die-hard techies but also reflective of what would be his crucial role in the development of Facebook.

In the summer of 2004 Hughes, Zuckerberg, and Moskovitz went to California, seeking venture capital for the fledgling Facebook site. The rest is history.

He is the Executive Director of Jumo, which he founded in 2010. Jumo is a non-profit social network organization which "aims to help people find ways to help the world." In July 2010, UNAIDS (Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS) appointed him to a 17-member "High Level Commission" of renowned politicians, business leaders, human rights activists, and scientists tasked with spearheading a "social and political action campaign over the coming year aimed at galvanizing support for effective HIV prevention programmes".

In 2009, Hughs attended President Obama's first state dinner with his boyfriend Sean Eldridge, Political Director of Freedom to Marry. On New Year's Eve 2010, on a vacation trip to Thailand, he became engaged to Sean, his partner of five years. Hughes and Eldridge announced their engagement in January 2011 at a reception in support of Freedom to Marry. He and Eldridge have lent their own voices and resources to the cause of glbtq rights, particularly marriage equality.

2015 – In Bolivia, the Justice Minister announces the passage of the Law of Gender Identity which allows transgender people to change their legal documents. The bill was initially proposed by  Raysa Torriani, a transgender woman and trans activist, three years earlier. The “Law of Gender Identity” will legally recognize the identity of 1,500 self-identified transgender people living in Bolivia . "Now, the sisters and brothers who want to change their name and sex, by an administrative resolution, can change their information" in the records of various government institutions, said Virginia Velasco, the minister of justice of Bolivia.

[hooked-on-elvis]

Elvis escaped a crew-length haircut more than once before the army

It is widely known by the fans that one funny story of how Red West saved Elvis from getting his hair cut off by bullies when he was only a teenager attending the Humes High School in Memphis, Tennessee. For those who never heard/read this story before, well.. long story short, Elvis was kind of a misfit in High School because of the way he used to dress different from his mates. "He looked like a sore thumb," said Ronny Trout, a classmate who shared a workbench with Elvis in wood shop in school (as wrote by Peter Guralnick in one of his books on Elvis). While all the guys usually had crew cuts and dressed in jeans, Elvis had this "movie star" look. Apart from the flashy clothes — such as ascot ties and dress pants Presley is said to have worn while attending classes — he also would proudly show off his truck driver sideburns and a duck tail hairstyle around the hallways. Some of the kids in his school just couldn't stand it. Most of them thought Elvis looked weird, possibly they got the impression as if he was cocky or something but more likely they just found him strange, out of place. One day some guys corned Elvis in the bathroom and threatened to cut his hair right off. Red West came in just in time. Even tho they weren't friends yet, that selfless good deed of Red turned Elvis into a, let's say, fan of his. Presley was beyond grateful for the unexpected help. This was before Elvis was, you know, "Elvis". West and Presley became friends after this day, little by little - not immediately, and it turns out that a long, long term friendship between the two came out of that uncanny situation. At a point, Red West became part of Elvis' personal security guard and remained friends with him up until July 1976, a little more than one year previous to Elvis's death in August 1977. Anyway, Red's efforts only postponed Elvis' haircut. Presley actually had to surrender to the crew cut style in March 1958 when he was inducted into the U.S. Army. But did you know before the Army's intervention and after the High School incident, there was another time when Presley's hair almost was chopped off? That was during movie production of "Jailhouse Rock", in 1957.

The still photographs of Elvis wearing the short "Butch" wig were taken on Monday, May 13, 1957. William Tuttle (head of the make-up at MGM Studios) and his department produced very convincing results. This was the first time the wig was ready to be fitted, and the first scene shot using the wig was on May 20, scene 11 - Barber Shop. Elvis is wearing the wardrobe for Scenes 5 & 6 - Courtroom.

Having read the script for Jailhouse Rock, Elvis was fully aware that the storyline called for his character to be sent to prison, and was told by the studio that, to be authentic, he would have to get his hair clipped. Elvis set off a personal appearance tour, prior to reporting to MGM Studios in Hollywood. The short tour commenced on March 28, 1957. The first stop was Chicago, at a press conference at the Saddle and Sirloin Club at the Stockyards Inn that afternoon, when Elvis spoke to the assembled press. When the subject of his haircut for his new picture was raised, he revealed: 'When I get back to Hollywood, I'm gonna have my hair cut. They're gonna cut it down to crew length for this new movie. Personally, I don't care if they cut my hair, I don't think it makes much difference. Because it'll grow out again.'

March 28, 1957. Elvis Presley at a press conference at the Saddle and Sirloin Club at the Stockyards Inn, Chicago, Illinois.

Within a week, MGM Studios and producer, Pandro S. Berman, were swamped with four thousand letter and post-cards from Presley fans begging that the studio let their hero act with his original hair. "Don't Be Cruel - Don't Cut Elvis' hair," they demanded in varying terms. Some threatened to boycott the picture; some said they'd see it anyway because they'd always be loyal to Elvis - but they'd be "All Shook Up." It was decided something had to be done to save Elvis' hair and also alleviate the fans' feelings, so the Studio started to look at alternative ideas with tests quickly set up in the Studio make-up department under the stewardship of William Turtle, head of the make-up at MGM Studios. Elvis revealed the solution to columnist Aline Mosby, 'So now the studio has decided I'll wear a wig, a crew-cut wig, for the prison scenes.' During pre-production, tests were undertakes with the 35mm film camera, to establish any issue. It was realized by Director of Cinematography, Robert J. Bronner, that Elvis' hair required a red tint due to the black and white film. Elvis later confirmed this in an interview once filming had been completed: 'My hair will look the same, except it was reddened because in black-and-white it photographed like a cap instead of hair.'

The fans plea worked good this time but there's the old saying that goes like: "what's meant to be will be".

Elvis Presley gets his hair cut before entering the Army, at Fort Chaffee in Barling, Arkansas. Presley entered the service March 24, 1958 at Fort Chaffee Reception Station. Picture of the 23-year-old rock star and barber Pete Peterson.

On December 10, 1957 Elvis received a letter from the Memphis Draft Board notifying him he was up for the next military draft. Presley's fans, once more, confident that their pleas would be heard just as they were by the Hollywood people, begun sending hundreds of letters to certainly everyone they could find would be helpful on the matter. They begged, "Please, please, do not touch Elvis' hair!" — some of them even felt kinda "suicidal" about Elvis' hair being cut off. One of the fan letters addressed to then U.S. President, read: "Dear President Eisenhower, My girlfriends and I are writing all the way from Montana. We think it's bad enough to send Elvis Presley to the army, but if you cut his sideburns of, we will just die."

NO DEAL WAS MADE THIS TIME. On March 24, 1958 Elvis was inducted into the U.S. Army and finally had to surrender to the crew-haircut. Truth be told, his fresh unfamiliar haircut didn't affect a bit his exquisite beauty - if anything, Presley appealed even worse to his female audience as a soldier.

Well, that's it. There it goes the story of how it took at least three attempts, including one movie and the U.S. government, to finally get that famous sideburns and pompadour out of Elvis' pretty little head.

SOURCE: Excerpts from book "The Making Of Jailhouse Rock" (Book "Movie") by David English and Pål Granlund (2021).

[roqueds]

    ⸻    meet   TEAGAN MORA.  the  library aide  at  glen ellen library  is  glen  ellen’s  very  own   TWO SIDED COIN,   who  has  been  in  town  for  twenty three years. while  they  are  only  twenty three,    they  can  be  very   UNRELIABLE    but  if  their  friends  mentioned  them,    you’d  think  they  were  more  CHARMING.   in  a  town  where  every  one  knows  everyone,    it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret,     but  i  think  the  killer  knows  that  [REDACTED],     and  it’s  bound  to  get  out  sometime  soon.   

                            pinterest. musings. wanted connections.

full name    -—    teagan rafeal mora.  nicknames    -—     teags, more tbd. give him one! occupation    -—     college student sometimes, local 'tinker', or akin to someone who takes things and fixes them. definitely coasts by on his parents' money ( in a non - nepo baby kind of way, more like unemployed kind of way ) but most importantly a library aide at glen ellen library / bug bounty hunter in his free time.  age    -—     twenty - three.  date of birth    -—     june 23rd. place of birth    -—     lovington, Illinois. gender    -—     cis man.

height    -—     6’1.   eye color    -—      brown.   hair color    -—      black.  distinguishing features    -—      none.

adoptive parents -—  madeline herrera ( n. ellison ) . adam herrera. biological parents    -—   rhiannon mora ( n. bapista ), biological mother. joel mora.  siblings    -—    wanted connections.   children  -—    none. pets   -—    none.

tw for car accident, death / grief, abandonment, adoption.

rhiannon  is  the  youngest  of  five  children  –  though  they  would  never  be  close  growing  up  or  beyond,  she  was  spoiled  half  to  death,  part  of  the  resentment  for  such  falling  out  of  the  family.  father  was  a  farmer  who  grew  their  own  fresh  fruits  and  vegetables,  and  their  mother  was  the  one  who  ran  the  farmers  market  stand  they  had  to  earn  some  money  every  saturday  (  or,  really,  whenever  she  could  ).  they  had  a  little  stand  against  a  popular  road  which  they  filled  up  everyday  (  or  as  often  as  they  could  when  the  season  dried  up  )  that  helped  create  income,  and  rhiannon’s  father  had  a  deal  with  local  supermarkets  to  sell  their  product.  it  was  successful  enough  that  rhiannon's  mother  could  retire  any  time  she  wanted  to,  but  she  loved  the  locals  and  interacting  with  everyone  —  something  she  instilled  in  her  children. 

joel  and  rhiannon  met  when  rhiannon  was  around  21,  he  was  24  at  a  local  farmers  market  he  was  reluctantly  dragged  along  to.  their  romance  was  whirlwind,  less  than  six  months  go  and  by  the  end  of  it,  she  was  pregnant  and  on  a  road  trip  around  the  country.  her  parents  didn’t  approve,  didn’t  want  her  to  spend  too  much  time  out  of  the  commune,  but  love  makes  you  do  crazy  things.  rhiannon  was  head  over  heels  for  dad,  puppy  dog  kind  of  love  you  want  to  last  forever.  were  they  exactly  fit  to  be  parents?  not  really  -  but  that  didn’t  stop  them  from  trying.  they  were  too  in  love  to  realize  that  they  wouldn't  last.

their  routine  usually  consisted  of  driving  for  many  long  hours,  going  to  national  parks  and  exploring  the  country.  getting  a  motel  at  night  or  sometimes  even  just  sleeping  in  their  car,  doing  whatever  they  wanted.  they  soon  gained  a  small  pop  up  rv  that  they  lived  in  at  night.  they’ve  been  to  almost  every  state  and  by  the  time  teagan  was  a  six  months  old,  he’d  been  to  half  of  the  continental  united  states.  they  were  making  their  way  back  up  north  for  the  summer,  to  enjoy  the  foliage  of  the  northeast  after  being  down  south  for  a  few  months. 

CAR  ACCIDENT  +  DEATH  TW  //  eventually,  they  were  t-boned  on  i-95  after  the  other  driver  was  going  way  over  the  speed  limit  through  the  sharp  90  degree  turn,  hitting  rhiannon’s  side.  the  impact  left  teagan  and  dad  with  scratches,  and  his  mother  without  her  life. 

GRIEF  TW   +     ABANDONMENT  TW     //    dad  wasn’t  prepared.  he’d  come  to  love  rhiannon,  even  more  than  he’d  ever  admit,  but  every  time  he  looks  at  teagan  it’s  a  knife  to  the  gut.  it’s  not  for  a  lack  of  trying.  grief  becomes  too  much  and  by  the  time  three  months  have  passed,  teagan  is  being  left  on   —    on  the  herrera  doorstep,  in  his  carseat,  like  a  cat  in  a  cardboard  box.  birth  certificate  and  note  attached.  the  herrera’s  were  listed  as  teagan’s  god  parents  due  to  their  close  relationship (  his  mother  had  considered  them  practically  family  in  every  regard  since  they  grew  up  on  the  commune  before  leaving )  ,  they  took  him  in.  by  that  time  they  already  had  quite  a  few  kids  and  it  seemed  like  a  no-brainer. 

teagan  was  a  try  everything  once  kid.  always  reckless,  climbing  around  both  inside  and  out  (  famously  got  stuck  in  a  tree  at  five  years  old  when  unsupervised,  had  to  call  the  fire  department.  they  still  tell  the  story  today.  it's  equal  parts  embarrassing  and  funny.  )  .  the  most  important  thing  is  that  he  absorbed  knowledge  of  anything  like  a  sponge.  from  languages  to  niche  interests  teagan  was  someone  who  couldn’t  learn  things  fast  enough.  despite  this,  school  was  never  his  strongest  thing.  didn’t  understand  the  need  to  learn  the  things  they  wanted  him  to,  didn’t  get  their  methods  of  teaching.  by  middle  school,  he  was  pulled  out  and  placed  into  an  essential  free  -  roam  homeschooling  program.  could  learn  about  what  his  interests  were,  invest  his  time  in  whatever  he  wanted.  very  few  workbooks  and  papers  and  testing  —  they  were  happy  to  let  him  to  whatever  as  long  as  he  was  learning  something.

began  learning  code  when  he  was  in  middle  school,  messing  around  with  the  little  baby  programs  and  just  trying  to  change  the  colors  on  his  siblings  form  accounts  and  they'd  give  him  a  dollar.  things  just  skyrocketed  from  there  —  trying  to  craft  minecraft  mods  and  mess  around  in  video  games  to  get  free  stuff.  began  bug  bounties  when  he  was  in  high  school  and  became  obsessed  with  learning  programming  languages.  essentially,  an  all  around  nerd  and  he's  proud  of  it. 

attended  the  local  community  college  and  got  a  degree  in  computer  science  —  as  much  as  he  excelled  in  those  courses,  he  floundered  in  just  about  everyone  else.  graduated  by  the  skin  of  his  teeth,  but  did  it  nonetheless.  currently  works  at  a  library  aide  at  the  local  library,  though  he's  moreso  their  i.t.  person,  if  anyone  asks.

as smart as he is … he’s fucking stupid. no interpersonal conflict, hardly thinks what he’s doing, doesn’t quite understand social cues. takes things too literally. naturally, in a horror movie, he’d be the first kill.

a lover first and foremost. only hates in actuality when he really hates something, but will jest from time to time. little to no actual evil bone in his body, but that can chang----

loyal to a fault. should have and never did drop people who've done him wrong time and time again because he thinks they have good intentions -- they've stayed yet another year and wronged him once again, and teagan took it with a smile on his face. the dog that never bites the hand that hurts, only the one that feeds.

the town annoying little brother. you love him or you hate him, but you know him in some aspect and that's all that matters to him. does anything to attach himself to anyone he can get his hands on, because he loves people of all kinds.

hyperactive golden retriever boy energy. never knows when to shut the fuck up, when to sit still. doesn't know how to read a room and never will. will usually have to be guided in nuanced social situations, or else he'll become the elephant in the room. has the social elegance of a hyperactive dog in a china shop.

seriously just wants to have a laugh. is always cracking jokes at his own expense, but never anyone elses unless he knows them well enough for it to be considered okay. he's not great at social interactions, but he keeps peoples feelings in mind first and foremost.

loves rocks. collects them of all shapes and kids, keeps them in his hoodie pockets to fiddle with when he gets nervous, which is quite often. will give out as presents if he likes you. his gentoo penguin vibe.

KEY PLAYERS : WANTED.

his siblings are at the top of my list if nothing less for the funnies. it’s kind of a free for all, since there’s at least 6 of them, and it’s complete chaos. i think it’d be fun to have their parents as well.

every boyloser needs a girlboss (gender neautral). they’ve been inseparable since childhood and at this point it doesn’t seem to be stopping. they’ve also expanded their friendship into something akin to a friends with benefits type thing, though it’s nothing exclusive and teagan is like :/

every spock, idiot version needs a baddie james kirk fr 💯💯 give me fellow nerds who are cooler than him, those who are friends with him only because he’s a nerd (he did their hw in high school now they feel bad)

people he’s acquired as Older Siblings despite having way too many of them to begin with. will walk into their homes unannounced and eat cereal at their kitchen table.

people he’s made websites for. people who he’s gotten Hidden Information (if u kno what i mean .... ) for. people who see this nerd and think you can fit a lot of crime in this bad boy.

people who feel bad for his skittish puppy looking nature and take him under their wing to make him cool (FAIL!)

misc connects include: weed dealer, former town bullies who bullied him for being a nerd, general menace around town partner, former fling / partner that fizzled bc he has no rizz, party friend who really only likes him because he steals the good beer from his sisters basement fridge, those parents who see him and feel bad bc what is this kid doing? give me that.

[cat-esper]

PALADIN | Adrianos, Quincy, Marr, and Reaver

He had dark hair, neatly groomed, and broad shoulders. He wore a shirt and tie, slacks, and a brown jacket, polished shoes. He reminded Chelsea of the math teacher she'd had in Junior High, the one everyone secretly feared. No one ever cheated in his class. Only her teacher never carried a knife at his belt. "Adrianos Nephus, you are under arrest," Ferric called across the hangar. Adrianos Nephus. The man who ran the Syndicate. Even without Ferric's confirmation, she thought she knew. "You haven't the authority for that, I'm afraid," Adrianos said. His voice was smooth and bitter. "Run now and I may just forget this little interference."

Name: Adrianos Nephus

Birthday: September 12, 1973

Age: 51

Home: Chicago, Illinois; Earth

Personality Type: ESTJ-A

Cunning and ruthless, Adrianos founded the Syndicate in his home city of Chicago where he made his money through the sale of illegal drugs and weapons. But even becoming a wealthy crime boss wasn't enough to satisfy his ambition so when he discovered a portal to another world, what he saw was an opportunity to expand his empire.

This has led to him influencing the outcomes of various conflicts in the Big Civ as well as making powerful enemies. But he's a man who believes in maintaining power and control and he's willing to do anything to get it, even if it means sacrificing his own family for it.

"You'll want to watch yourselves," Quincy said. "Arla Swin may have been running the show on Autolk, but Adrianos Nephus is the one calling the shots. And you do not want him as an enemy. I recommend you back off." Shay's expression hardened just a little as if he recognized the name. "You'll never get the full picture from a guy like me," Quincy said. "He knows better than that." Shay grunted and backed away from the table. "In that case, we'll just keep you here a while. They won't miss you." He opened the door, nodding for Chelsea to go through first. "Oh, and you're wrong about what you said. Adrianos Nephus doesn't want me as an enemy."

Name: Quincy Reid

Birthday: May 22, 1990

Age: 34

Home: Sable, Utah; Earth

Personality Type: ESTP-T

Quincy is very much a product of his environment. He ran with the wrong crowd, made the wrong decisions, and simply ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Growing up, he idolized his brother, who himself wasn't a great influence, and he has a tendency to give in to peer pressure. When his brother started a family and attempted to get his life together, Quincy felt left behind and betrayed, which was how Adrianos found him and how he ended up working for the Syndicate.

More concerned with just keeping his head down and doing what he's told, Quincy is content to stay within this comfort zone. But as circumstances change, he'll have to decide whether to stick with it or try and repair his damaged but not permanently broken moral compass.

"You are too late. You have lost. The dragons are being returned home," Voh said, much too brave considering the circumstances. Chelsea wished she were half that brave. "This isn't about the dragons," Marr said. "It's about you now. You're a loose end and Nephus doesn't like loose ends." He adjusted the black gloves on his hands, casually. "So you're just going to kill us?" Chelsea asked. Marr pressed a button on something strapped to his wrist. "That's the plan."

Name: Marr

Birthday: January 18, 1981

Age: 43

Home: Hnavah

Personality Type: ISTJ-A

Having grown up in the blood dens of Hnavah, Marr learned from an early age that the only way to the top is by destroying the competition. To gain his patron's favor--and the food and protection that comes with it--Marr built himself into someone to be feared, someone brutal and merciless and not worth crossing. It served him well on Hnavah and when he finally escaped the cesspit that is the Hvroivian homeworld, that brutality was the only skill he had.

Adrianos hired him to work for the Syndicate specifically for this skill, which he puts to use against Adrianos' enemies. It's earned him a fearsome reputation which is just fine by him. As long as he is something to fear, he will always be safe.

"It's in our heads," Reaver said simply. "Whatever it showed Quincy was to the south and made him want to run away from it. What I'm seeing now is to the north and I'm compelled to approach it." "What do you see?" "It's..." Reaver hesitated. "Just someone I failed to protect. It doesn't matter. It's not real. I suggest we veer south." Chelsea looked where Reaver's gun was pointing but saw nothing. Marr looked too and fired a shot in that direction. "You won't hit it," Reaver said. "Just keep going."

Name: Reaver 20-309

Birthday: June 30, 1987

Age: 37

Home: N/A

Personality Type: ISTJ-T

Reaver model synths were designed and mass-produced for war. Reaver 20-309 served in several conflicts as a sniper. Like all Reavers, he was designed with minimal empathy and excellent situational awareness as well as strength, quick reflexes, and a number of combat styles. Considered dangerous to the general public, it is necessary to destroy Reavers once they are no longer needed. However, Reaver 20-309 was instead stolen and sold on the black market which is how he ended up in the Syndicate.

He knows he's not a person, but a tool and does Adrianos' dirty work because that was how he was programmed to be. He absolutely cannot allow himself to feel for any of the Syndicate's victims and he especially cannot consider any of them friends.

[imbeautyschooll]

Your Path to Beauty Expertise: Esthetician School Chicago and Cosmetology Careers

An esthetician is a licensed skincare specialist who works to improve clients’ skin health, texture, and appearance. They offer services such as facials, exfoliation, waxing, and sometimes advanced treatments like microdermabrasion and chemical peels. Estheticians also guide their clients in establishing skincare routines that cater to their skin type, lifestyle, and goals. In an esthetician school in Chicago, students gain hands-on experience with these techniques, along with theoretical knowledge about skin science, customer service, and business fundamentals.

Chicago is home to a diverse population, making it an ideal environment to train in. From dealing with unique skin concerns caused by extreme weather changes to addressing the specific needs of people with various skin types, an esthetician school in Chicago offers a well-rounded education for aspiring skincare professionals.

What to Expect from an Esthetician School in Chicago

The curriculum in an esthetician school Chicago usually covers essential topics such as skin anatomy, skincare techniques, client consultation, and skincare product knowledge. Chicago-based esthetician programs also include hands-on training in clinical environments, allowing students to work directly with clients under professional supervision. This practical experience is invaluable as it prepares students to handle real-world situations and client expectations. Additionally, these schools often integrate knowledge about sanitation and sterilization protocols, essential to ensuring client safety.

Esthetician schools in Chicago also prepare students for the state licensing exam, which is mandatory for anyone who wishes to work professionally in Illinois. Graduates leave the program with confidence, having developed both technical skills and an understanding of the underlying science that makes their work effective.

Choosing a Chicago Cosmetology School

If you’re drawn to a broader array of beauty services, a Chicago cosmetology school might be the perfect choice. Unlike esthetics, which focuses primarily on skincare, cosmetology encompasses a wide range of beauty treatments, including hair styling, nail care, and makeup application. Students interested in cosmetology receive a more comprehensive education that can open doors to various beauty careers, from hair salons to spa management.

Cosmetology programs in Chicago typically teach students how to cut, style, and color hair; perform manicures and pedicures; and apply makeup with precision. Students learn to personalize these services based on the client's features, preferences, and style, which is crucial in a dynamic city like Chicago, where trends are constantly evolving. Graduates of Chicago cosmetology schools emerge with a versatile skill set that makes them adaptable and prepared for a fast-paced industry.

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One of the biggest advantages of attending a Chicago cosmetology school or esthetician school in Chicago is the exposure to diverse beauty standards, preferences, and trends. The city’s beauty industry thrives on innovation and inclusivity, attracting clients from all walks of life. This diversity provides students with real-world experiences they may not encounter elsewhere, enriching their education and skill development.

Additionally, Chicago’s location in the Midwest makes it accessible to beauty professionals from various regions, further broadening the learning experience. The city hosts numerous beauty and wellness expos, industry workshops, and networking events, all of which offer students additional opportunities to learn, grow, and connect with industry leaders.

Career Opportunities After Graduation

Graduates of a Chicago cosmetology school or esthetician school in Chicago have access to a wide range of career opportunities. Estheticians may choose to work in day spas, medical spas, dermatology offices, or beauty clinics. Some might focus on specific services such as lash extensions, brow shaping, or acne treatments, while others may branch into holistic wellness services like aromatherapy or natural skincare.

For those who complete cosmetology programs, career paths are even broader. Some may specialize in hairstyling, working in top-tier salons, while others may explore makeup artistry, working for fashion shows, film productions, or bridal parties. Additionally, many cosmetology graduates find rewarding careers in education, becoming instructors at beauty schools or trainers for beauty brands.

Entrepreneurial graduates might even consider starting their own beauty business, such as a salon, spa, or freelance service. The diverse and dynamic beauty market in Chicago provides numerous possibilities, whether in independent ventures or established beauty brands.

Tips for Success in the Beauty Industry

Building a successful career in esthetics or cosmetology goes beyond technical skills. Chicago’s competitive beauty industry requires a proactive approach, dedication, and strong interpersonal skills. Establishing a personal brand, staying updated on trends, and continuously enhancing skills through further education and certifications can help professionals stand out.

Networking is equally essential. Students in esthetician school in Chicago or a Chicago cosmetology school should take advantage of internships, externships, and industry events to connect with potential mentors and future employers. Building a professional network early on can lead to valuable job opportunities and long-term growth in the field.

Embrace Your Future in the Beauty Industry

If you’re passionate about helping people look and feel their best, pursuing a career in esthetics or cosmetology could be incredibly fulfilling. The training you’ll receive in an esthetician school in Chicago or a Chicago cosmetology school will provide a foundation of skills, knowledge, and confidence to start a meaningful career in beauty and wellness. Whether you envision yourself working in a luxurious salon, running your own business, or expanding your expertise in skincare science, the beauty industry offers an inspiring pathway for creative individuals.

Chicago, with its diverse population and thriving beauty scene, provides an ideal setting to learn, grow, and succeed. As beauty trends evolve, so too will the demand for skilled estheticians and cosmetologists. With the right training, determination, and a passion for the craft, you can transform your interest in beauty into a rewarding profession that makes a difference in people’s lives every day.

[paulodebargelove]

Maxwell - Sumthin' Sumthin' (Official 4K Video)  HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Gerald Maxwell Rivera, (born May 23, 1973), better known by his stage name Maxwell, is an American singer-songwriter, record producer, and actor. Along with fellow musicians D'Angelo and Erykah Badu, Maxwell has been credited with helping to shape what has been termed the “neo soul” movement that rose to prominence during the late 1990s.Early lifeMaxwell was born in Brooklyn, New York, the son of a Haitian mother and a Puerto Rican father. His mother grew up in a devout Baptist household in Haiti. Maxwell’s father died in a plane crash when Maxwell was three years old. The experience made him a deeply religious child, and during his childhood he sang in a Baptist church.CareerBeginningsAfter receiving a low-cost Casio keyboard from a friend, the Brooklyn, New York-native began composing music at age 17. Raised in the borough’s East New York-section, Maxwell’s previous musical experience included his beginnings as a singer in the congregation of his Baptist church, which had become an integral part of his life after the death of his father in a plane crash. Already a fan of what he described as “jheri curl soul”, which was the trademark of early 1980s R&B acts such as Patrice Rushen, S.O.S. Band and Rose Royce, Maxwell began to teach himself to play a variety of instruments. According to him, the R&B of the early 1980s contained “the perfect combination of computerized instrumentation with a live feel”, and that the genre’s dynamics later became lost due to the influence of hip hop on R&B. Despite facing ridicule from classmates for being shy and awkward, he progressed and continued to develop his musical abilities, and he also adopted the look of a more bohemian style outwardly in his clothing, growing long sideburns and letting his hair grow out wildly and combed in an extreme style, or sometimes putting his hair in long dreads.Initially influenced by early-1980s urban R&B, Maxwell progressed rapidly, and by 1991 he was performing on the New York City club scene. Maxwell was able to gain access to a 24-track recording studio and started to record songs for a demo tape, which he circulated among his friends. The demo engendered interest, and his official debut concert performance at Manhattan nightclub Nell’s drew a crowd. During the next two years, Maxwell wrote and recorded over three hundred songs and played frequently at small venues throughout New York City. Maxwell’s performances continued to draw interest and increase the buzz about him, and he was called “the next Prince” by a writer from Vibe magazine who attended one of his shows. After earning a considerable reputation, Maxwell signed a recording contract with Columbia Records in 1994. He adopted his middle name as a moniker out of respect for his family’s privacy.Maxwell’s Urban Hang SuiteMaxwell began working with songwriter Leon Ware and noted guitarist Wah Wah Watson to record his debut Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite in the early 1990s. Recording sessions for the album took place in 1994 and 1995 at Electric Lady Studios, RPM Studios, Sorcerer Studios and Chung King Studios in New York City, and at CRC Studios in Chicago, Illinois. After production for the album was completed in 1995, the finished product was presented to Columbia Records in Spring of that same year. However, it was shelved for nearly a year, due to issues with Columbia’s management, the label’s extensive reorganization and record executives’ doubts of the album’s commercial potential.Initially, the album was slow to obtain commercial interest. On April 20, 1996, the album made its chart debut at number 38 on the Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart. From August to October 1996, Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite experienced chart growth on both the Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums and Billboard 200, peaking at number eight on the former and at number 36 on the latter. It spent seventy-eight weeks on the Billboard 200 chart. It became a Top 30 hit in the United Kingdom. The album was later ranked as one of the year’s top-10 best albums by Time, Rolling Stone and USA Today. and was also nominated for a Grammy Award for Best R&B Album at the 39th Grammy Awards, losing the award to The Tony Rich Project's Words.The album spawned four singles. The first single released, “…Til the Cops Come Knockin’”, debuted on the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Singles & Tracks at number 87 in May 1996. Peaking at number 79, the single spent 12 weeks on the chart. The second single, “Ascension (Don’t Ever Wonder)”, debuted on the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Singles & Tracks in August 1996 at number 11, eventually peaking number eight. It spent eighteen weeks on the Billboard Hot 100, peaking at number 36 on September 28, 1996. The third single, “Sumthin’ Sumthin’”, peaked at number 22 on the Hot Dance Music/Maxi-Singles Sales. The album’s fourth single, “Suitelady (The Proposal Jam)”, entered the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay component chart in May 1997, peaking at number 64. (Maxwell contributed the song “Segurança (Security)” to the AIDS-benefit album Red Hot + Rio, produced by the Red Hot Organization.)Despite only having released only one album, the music video television channel MTV saw his burgeoning popularity and asked him to tape an episode of the concert series MTV Unplugged in New York City. The show was taped live on June 15, 1997, and he performed his own songs as well as covers of songs by Kate Bush (“This Woman’s Work”) and Nine Inch Nails (“Closer”). (Unfortunately he clashed with his label about the release of a full album of his session, resulting in the release of only an extended play, or EP instead, containing seven songs.) The episode of MTV Unplugged first aired on the network on July 22, 1997".Embrya and NowMaxwell’s second studio album, Embrya, was released in early 1998, and upon its release it was panned by contemporary music critics. The album received mixed criticism for its more “indulgent sound.” With its internal focus and esoteric grooves, the album served as a departure for Maxwell, who did not regret risking his reputation with urban listeners for a more challenging record. The album experienced a critical backlash similar to that of other artists’ work that broke their previous releases’ successful formulas in favor of more compelling projects, now being termed “neo-soul.” In 1999, it won the Soul Train Music Award for Best Male Soul/R&B Album. In a retrospective review for Allmusic, Stephen Thomas Erlewine wrote that Maxwell “overstuffs his songs with ideas that lead nowhere” and called Embrya "a bit of a sophomore stumble, albeit one with promising moments.“ Arion Berger, writing in The Rolling Stone Album Guide (2004), found the songs monotonous and called the album "unfocused and pretentious … full of overwrought, underwritten songs with obscure, fancy titles revolving around a sort of sexual gnosticism.”Despite the negative press, the album sold more than one million copies and garnered Maxwell a new alternative fanbase, but confounded the traditional urban consumers. On May 26, 1999, the album was officially certified platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). Embrya was nominated for a Grammy Award for Best R&B Album, losing to fellow neo-soul artist Erykah Badu's Baduizm (1997). Later in the year he released “Fortunate”, a single written by R. Kelly and featured on the soundtrack for the 1999 film Life. The single peaked at number one on Billboard magazine’s Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Singles and Tracks chart. To date, the song is Maxwell’s most successful single and was Billboard’s number-one R&B single of 1999.Now, Maxwell’s third album, was released on August 14, 2001 on Columbia Records in the United States. Following the lukewarm radio success of his previous album, Maxwell has stated he felt more comfortable with his artistic direction in the creation of his new album, which does not exhibit his previous work’s conceptual style. The album sold over 296,000 units in the U.S. in the first week, according to SoundScan, to earn him his first-ever number one album. The second single off the album, “This Woman’s Work”, a live staple of Maxwell’s, charted at number 58 on the Billboard Hot 100 and at number 16 on the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart. Once again, despite some criticism towards Maxwell’s songwriting, La Weekly stated “Now is a disappointment in the wake of 1996’s Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite and its 1998 follow-up, Embrya." Now received generally positive reviews from music critics, based on an aggregate score of 78/100 from Metacritic. The album also served as Maxwell’s last release before quietly entering a self-imposed an almost seven-year hiatus from performing, and no tour was planned to support the album.BLACKsummers'nightRecording sessions for a new album took place during 2007 to 2009 at Chung King Studios, Bowery Digital, and Platinum Sound Recording Studios in New York City. The album was produced entirely by Maxwell and musician Hod David. The album was to serve as the first part of his scheduled trilogy of albums.During this time, and after seven years of not performing, he appeared as a surprise musical guest on the 2008 BET Awards, where he performed the song "Simply Beautiful” in a tribute to soul singer Al Green, shocking fans and the audience alike with his ability to still perform well, but also with his new look, his trademark dreadlocks and pork-chop sideburns gone, replaced with a more relaxed and mature look.The album BLACKsummers'night was released on July 7, 2009 and received universal acclaim from music critics. Commercially the album was a success, debuting at number one on the US Billboard 200 chart in July 2009, with first-week sales of 316,000 copies, serving as Maxwell’s highest first-week sales.The album produced four singles. The lead single “Pretty Wings” debuted at number one on the US Billboard Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart, ultimately spending 47 weeks on the chart. It also spent 18 weeks and peaked at number 33 on the Hot 100 and at number 12 on its Radio Songs component chart. The second single, “Bad Habits”, peaked at number four on the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs, spending 46 weeks on the chart. It peaked at number 71 on the Hot 100, at number 38 on the Radio Songs chart, and at number 16 on the Hot Dance Club Songs chart. The third single “Cold” spent one week at number 62 on the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs. The album’s fourth single “Fistful of Tears” spent 24 weeks on the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs, peaking at number 11. It charted at number 94 on the Hot 100 and at number 63 on the Radio Songs chart. Maxwell received six nominations for the 2010 Grammy Awards, winning “Best R&B Album” for BLACKsummers'night and “Best Male R&B Vocal Performance” for “Pretty Wings.” “Pretty Wings” was nominated for the “Song of the Year” which was written by Maxwell under his publishing moniker Musze.On April 17, 2012, Maxwell announced that he and his eleven-piece band would embark on a six-day tour, MaxwellTwoNight -M2N tour 2012 – two nights in three cities, scheduled for the cities of Los Angeles, California – Staples Center (July 20 and July 21); Atlanta, Georgia – Phillips Arena (July 27 and July 28); and Newark, New Jersey – the Prudential Center (August 3 and August 4). Maxwell was to perform his discography in its entirety. The first day of the tour Maxwell was to perform songs from his first album Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite and second album Embrya. The second day of the tour Maxwell was to perform from his third and fourth albums Now and BLACKsummer'snight, respectively. Maxwell was to debut never-performed songs from his BLACKsummer'snight trilogy. lt was also announced that proceeds from the M2N tour merchandise would support the “Obama-Biden 2012” re-election campaign. However, the tour was canceled due to vocal hemorrhaging.blackSUMMERS'nightAfter two years of occasionally performing and planning, he disclosed during an interview with Rolling Stone magazine in May 2014 that he had been working on his fifth studio album for “the past three years” and has been recording in Miami. On December 18, 2014, Maxwell announced on the social media site Twitter the second installment of his trilogy blackSUMMERS'night would be arriving sometime in winter 2015.On April 7, 2016, Maxwell released his first solo single in 6 years titled “Lake by the Ocean”, and also revealed his long-awaited fifth album blackSUMMERS'night. He performed it on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert on May 5, 2016. It was his first television performance in seven years.The full-length album was released on July 1, 2016.Neo soulAlong with fellow musicians D'Angelo and Erykah Badu, Maxwell has been credited with helping to shape the “neo soul” movement that rose to prominence during the late 1990s. Along with D'Angelo's Brown Sugar (1995) and Badu's Baduizm (1997), Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite has been recognized by writers for beginning neo soul’s popularity and helping the genre obtain commercial visibility. However, in contrast to D'Angelo, Maxwell was more conventional in his approach on his debut album.In commenting on the “new soul revival” in music, Maxwell told Entertainment Weekly in 1997 that “everything out there musically was inspired or influenced by something from the past. It’s not about creating some super-fresh new thing. If it doesn’t lend itself to your history, how is it going to extend to your future? That’s what’s really brilliant about looking into children’s eyes—you can see their parents in them." The Washington Post called him "the Marvin Gaye of the ‘90s”. Its columnist wrote that Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite "heralded the arrival of a top-of-the-class graduate of the old school of soul, one who could sing about romantic aspiration and tribulation with heart-wrenching emotion. It was as if the aesthetic that Gaye ascribed to — 'music that has feeling, hope and meaning – all the things people are looking for’ — had been rediscovered after a long, hedonistic interlude.“Maxwell’s role in writing and producing the album exhibited a level of artistic control by an R&B artist that was uncommon in the recording industry at the time. On his emergence with Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite, writer Carol Brennan cited him, along with the Fugees, D'Angelo and Tony Rich, as neo soul musicians that "exhibited the identifying characteristics of this new breed of R&B artists: lyrics that give voice to intense personal expression, creative control over the music, and a unexpectedly successful debut.”DiscographyMaxwell’s Urban Hang Suite (1996)Embrya (1998)Now (2001)BLACKsummers'night (2009)blackSUMMERS'night (2016)ToursHeadliningUrban Hang Suite Tour (1997)Now Tour (2001–02)Maxwell Live (2008)BLACKsummers'night Tour (2009)Summer Soulstice (2014)Summers’ 2016 (2016)Co-headliningSony Music Black College Tour (1996) (with George Clinton, the Fugees, Groove Theory and UBU)Maxwell & Jill Scott: The Tour (2010) (with Jill Scott)Annual Summer Jam (2016) (with Fantasia Barrino)King and Queen of Hearts World Tour (2016) (with Mary J. Blige)Cancelled toursMaxwellTwoNight (2012)Awards and nominationsAmerican Music AwardBET AwardsGrammy AwardNAACP Image AwardSoul Train Music AwardsTodas as reações:111Compartilhar

[nugro-hair-blog]

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[fgfluidity]

memento

Summary: The PA is very sick. Someone needs to tend them. (set in the MaB-verse) ( @statictay @damn-the-dark @opprose )

Pairings: Damien/Dark x DA/PA

Warnings: Slimy bastard Actor; illness; implied/discussed sexual assault

Winter is a rather busy time in the studio.

With their audience stuck inside for longer and longer periods of time, more content production is necessary to meet the demand, and that means all hands on deck for most of November and December.

It makes the entire place that much more of a madhouse, unfortunately. Dark is extremely grateful for his warping abilities, as the Void is a beautifully silent and calm place when he needs it.

He can’t get headaches, but peace is quite helpful.

They’re in the midst of a last-minute production meeting in the conference room— he’s had to veto so much in the past half-hour that he’s desperate to pop into the void, just for a few seconds— when Wilford, the maniac that he is, decides that he needs to take roll.

“If a single one of you is missing,” he says, voice edging low, “I will not hesitate! You know the rules, and so do I!”

A suppressed laugh from one side of the room.

Without looking up from his role sheet, Wilford raises an inexplicable, though not surprising, gun.

With a sigh, Dark extends a bit of his aura to push it back below the table. “We’re behind enough as it is without an ego in the infirmary, Wil. Let’s finish the meeting.”

“You’re just like my producer,” he grumbles, but he scans around the room, doing a very quick count under his breath. Then, “Someone is missing!”

Dark looks around the room, unsurprised to find everyone else doing the same, equally baffled.

“The Host speaks from the side of the room, quietly but quickly. He says that each ego is present and accounted for, and that is true, from the abundance of extra seating around the table. He continues that he cannot think of to whom Wilford Warfstache may be referring.”

Wilford slams his sheet down on the table, mustache quivering in indignation. “Our production assistant! The best one, the one who hasn’t died yet!”

Dark clenches his fists. Of course, Wilford wouldn’t even consider... that night.

“I told them to be here,” Wilford continues, growing more upset by the second, “and they are always here when I tell them to be and that’s why they’re the best! Why aren’t they here?”

“Maybe the little darlin’ got stuck in traffic,” Illinois suggests. He doesn’t have his boots on the table for long, not with a push of aura, and he grunts. “Hey!”

Dr. Iplier doesn’t look half as casual, a concerned hand raising to his chin. “They could be... dying.”

A ripple of displeasure goes down the length of the room— though Dr. Iplier is very set on death being his ultimate prognosis for any and everyone, the idea is deeply upsetting.

“Wil,” Dark begins, slowly, “we may not need them to complete work today. We already have a number of—“

“You shut your mouth!” Wilford just gapes at him, appalled. “Go on without them? You would be so cruel— you don’t love them like I do!”

Dark snarls, aura flaring to life in an instant, casting half the room into grayscale and static. “You dare—“

“Incoming call from: PA,” a Google— Green— chimes from one side of the room, interrupting. “Would you like to—“

“Yes!” Comes a chorus of voices, and not just from the interrupted pair.

With a second chime, the front monitor fires up, a little green light the only indication of their own camera. In seconds, a face appears on screen— one half hidden in a pillow. “Hello?”

Even that simple word sounds terrible, raspy and harsh. “Oh,” Dark begins, something twisting in his stomach, “you’re—“

“You look like hell, matey,” Magnum interrupts, unnecessarily blunt. He has a point, though— what is visible of their face is half red and half ashen, their eyes are bleary, and their hair curls into a mess against the pillow. “What’s wrong with ye?”

The PA eyes the screen for a moment, then groans, turning more of their face into the fabric. “Ugh, did I interrupt a meeting? I’m sorry— I knew I was going to be late but—“

They break into coughs, deep and hacking, and the screen cuts out for a moment. When it comes back, they’re even more red-faced, eyes damp.

“Hey, hey, don’t sweat it, doll.” Yancy leans in towards the screen, as if he could reach out and touch them. “If youse real sick, youse shouldn’t be here. Right?”

A whole host of nods and agreement from around the room, and Wilford says, uncharacteristically soft, “He’s right, cupcake. You need to stay home and rest— ol’ Warfy can handle everything.”

“You were just complaining about them not being here,” someone says from a corner of the room, and the gun raises from below the table.

The PA doesn’t like violence so much, and it’ll be hell to clean up; Dark lowers the gun again. Then, from the call, he hears what sounds like... cars? “Where,” he begins, carefully, “are you right now?”

They roll the one eye he can see away from the camera. “In the Barrel,” they mutter, sheepishly. “I was on my way here but I had to pull over. I only called to say I’d be late.”

That sets off an entire new wave of protests and admonishments from every corner of the room, one Dark has a difficult time quelling— even if it is justified. “You aren’t coming in, and you’re in no position to drive. Even thinking of coming here was foolish.” He grits his teeth, forcing back the aura threatening to roil around him. They don’t react well to him being harsh, and especially won’t now. “Does... he know you’re coming?”

“Only way I could get the keys,” they rasp, stifling another cough. As if that’s normal. “But he’s... busy. Everyone’s busy. I’ll just— I’ll rest here for a little while and then drive back. I’m sorry.”

“The Host is not reassured by the PA’s insistence on driving, nor does he blame them for getting sick. Speaking up, the Host says that they should not drive. Asking for help, he continues, is not a sign of weakness and is quite necessary in this case.”

“Blindfold is right, Sunshine,” Illinois says, his usual oozing charm subdued for once. “Listen, one of us can come and get ya, you’ll be right as rain in no time. We have a doc, I have a car— just tell me where—“

“Hey, no—“

“Youse think youse gonna go get ‘em?” Yancy leans over the table. “So’s you can sleaze all over ‘em? They’s sick, ya greaseball!”

“A car may be too slow. As I feared,” Dr. Iplier continues, looking down at his folded hands as though they might hold an answer, “they’re dying.”

Eric whimpers, and gets a sympathetic pat from Bing. It’s a bit harsh.

“I can get them here faster than a car,” Wilford announces, proudly. He twitches his mustache. “Hold on, sugar cookie—“

The PA sits up in a panic. “Wil— Wilford, no—!”

Dark grumbles, and without a second thought, arrives outside of the Barrel. It’s in a parking lot, at least, rather than the side of the road as he may have feared, and still parked neatly within the lines.

That said, the harsh coughing is audible through the rolling side door, interspersed with panicked pleas and protests.

Carefully, he reaches out and knocks.

The noise immediately stops. The door doesn’t open, but after a few seconds, a drawn and sweaty face appears in the passenger side window.

They just watch him, blinking slowly, face entirely neutral, before they shrink back out of sight.

Should he knock again? He reaches out to try, but the door slowly rolls open before he can make contact. It takes a bit, as the PA shakes like a leaf with each weak pull, and they fall back heavily when it’s finally open all the way, panting. “Dar— Dark? Why are you here?”

They sound even worse in person, somehow, but he doesn’t flinch back from the rasp. “I’m here to get you,” he replies, simply. “With their bickering you’d be here until nightfall, and you shouldn’t spend one more second in this... vehicle.”

His disdain often gets pushback— it is where they live, awful as it is— but they don’t protest. Rather, weakly, they nod. “Okay. I’m... I’m really tired, Dark,” they sniff, reaching for their phone. “I could just...”

“You can,” he replies, though gently as he can muster. From the bluish tinge of the light flickering into the van, his capacity for it has greatly expanded. “We’ll give you a good, safe place to rest. Come with me.”

Dark, being an undead demon-like being, runs quite a bit cooler than a normal human. From the briefest of unwelcome and unintentional touches with others, they’re verging on uncomfortably warm to his new body.

When the PA gently takes his outstretched hand, fingers shaking, it feels like he’s been branded— and that isn’t Damien’s affection talking. “You’re boiling,” he mutters, tersely, though he keeps hold to pull them up.

“Don’t... don’t feel like it.” As if on cue, their shivers ramp up, a full body quaking, teeth chattering and all. Their legs wobble, and on their first step, they drop.

Only his other hand on their elbow keeps them from hitting the asphalt. Further touch only burns more, and their chills intensify. “You can’t walk, either. Hold on.”

They aren’t difficult to lift— they were small a century ago, and small now, and he’s only grown in strength— but the wall of heat against his chest makes him grunt.

Finally, something sparks, and they look at him, wide-eyed. “What are you—“

“You can’t walk,” he repeats, adjusting his grip. With a flicker of aura— bright cyan, as if there was any doubt as to the person in control— the door rolls shut and locks. “I won’t drag you along the ground.”

“No, but...” The minor boost of energy from the shock must fade, because they sigh, head listing into his shoulder. Their hair, though sweaty, is soft under his jaw. “Why? You aren’t... nice.”

It makes him laugh— a short, bitter little chuckle. “No,” he admits, doing a last check of the Barrel. It should be fine to sit for a while. “But let it not be said that I don’t care, especially—“ He hesitates, even as the blue light flickers and urges him to say it. “I know what he tells you, but I hate to see you hurting, my dear. No matter who or what is at fault.”

The PA hums, and he quickly steps through a tear in the void. He doesn’t know how it might affect them, and he’d rather keep exposure as brief as possible. They don’t stir, even as he lands in a bedroom.

It’s a grand, comfortable thing. Soft blankets and pillows, a sunny window with thick curtains, a desk against one of the soft gold walls.

Old memories from before: they love yellow, a sunny place to read, room to work, a bed more fluff than substance. They did and they still do, and he remembers.

It’s their room, though they’ve never seen it, and he’s never stepped foot in it. Ready for them if ever they wanted or needed it.

Now, it seems, is the time.

His aura turns down the blankets, eases off their shoes, and as he sets them down into the nest, one of their hands grips his jacket. “Yes?”

“Then why didn’t he come?” Their voice is a whisper, and he’s loathe to see tears prickling in their eyes. “He says you don’t care, that he cares, but I called him before I called you. He said he was too busy. Why did you come and he didn’t?”

His shell cracks, just a bit, and he swallows down the rage that threatens his stability. “As I said,” he replies, gently reaching up to loosen their hand from his clothes, “he’s told you things that aren’t true. That I don’t care about you. That I wish to hurt you. Those couldn’t be farther from the truth. There is a possibility—“ a certainty, but he won’t say, “— that he may have told you other falsehoods. And I am truly sorry he made you believe them.”

Their expression crumbles, and they turn their face into their pillow, mostly to hide another series of hacking coughs.

If he sees a tear fall, he won’t mention it. “I’ll send up the doctor and Google,” he says, softly, and risks the burn to brush his fingers over their cheek. “If you are in need of anything, my dear, please ask.”

He pulls the covers up over their shoulders, and just before he warps away, he hears, “Thank you, Dark.”

A smile, just a lift of the corner of his mouth, crosses his face. “Of course. Rest well, darling.”

---

It’s hell to get all of the egos in line once they hear the PA’s in the manor.

“They need rest,” he growls, allowing his aura to warp and fracture in a threatening display. “And we have a schedule to keep. To the studio, all of you. Quickly!”

Save Dr. Iplier and a Google— Yellow, the one kindest to humans in general; he sends them directly up to the PA’s room, with express instructions to notify him if anything concerning comes up.

Almost immediately after production begins on the first video, Google— Red— pulls him aside. “I have been sent the PA’s initial chart,” he says, eyes glazed as he processes. “Would you like to hear—?”

“Yes!” Dark glances back to the monitor— it’s all going smoothly enough. “Quickly, now!”

Red scowls, just for a moment. “Body aches, chills, fatigue, cough, runny nose, and fever all indicate influenza. Complications—“

“There are complications? Already?”

“Yes. Their breathing is a little difficult, and their fever is at concerning temperatures— 39.5 Celsius. 103.1 Fahrenheit,” he continues, with a measure of disdain for the conversion. “The van likely exacerbated the illness.”

Why are we still in the studio and not with them?

Why are we not in Mark’s home, strangling him?

Dark rolls his neck, willing his shell to stay together. He’s starting to affect the monitor. “Then I need to—“

“Dr. Iplier has made a note, asking that Dark and all other egos remain where they are.” The damn android has the audacity to smirk at him. “Now under the care of a doctor and in a safe place, they should recover quickly, as all other vitals are excellent.”

He chafes under the instruction— not a single one of these other egos could stop him if he wanted to see them, not even Wilford— but reluctantly accepts it. After all, he may be many things, but a hypocrite is not one. He can wait until the doctor gives an all-clear. “Hm. You’ll tell me if anything changes?”

“That is a current directive, yes.”

Damn that update. He’d had enough sass before the four androids were able to join in.

It’s a full day before he gets any different news, though he asks, even through the night. Finally, as he’s struggling against asking one more time, hardly focusing on the paperwork before him, Red chimes.

“Incoming call from: Dr. Iplier. Would you like to—?”

“Yes!” The good doctor never calls, simply writes down messages that only he and the Googles could hope to read. A call is serious.

The screen in the corner of the office lights up, a red dot alongside the camera.

Dr. Iplier is there, though remarkably ruffled, wide-eyed in panic. His clothes look wrinkled, and he’s out of breath when he says, “Dark! You need to get up here, no—“

Dark is upstairs before he even finishes the sentence, shell cracking and spilling void everywhere. “What happened to them?” 

“Wilford,” Dr. Iplier says, and the closed door rattles. Yellow quickly hurries over to brace against it, even as the shouts ringing out from behind the wood begin to fade. “They’re— they’re unharmed, Dark! Before you do anything rash, they’re... not hurt. King has him outside, along with Blue and Green.”

The ringing is almost starting to hurt his own ears. Wilford— why would he— if he had harmed them— he had intended— “Tell me everything, right now,” he snarls. “What happened between them?”

Dr. Iplier sighs and gestures towards the bed, where the PA lies asleep. Their breath wheezes a bit, and they look ashen and tiny under all the covers, though they still shiver. “Their fever has gotten worse. This high, for a human body, people start to see things, hear things. Fever dreams and hallucinations.

“They were awake when Wilford popped in— I imagine he wanted to see them badly, as he had candy spilling from every pocket, and they saw him, and...” He frowns, thoughtfully. “They gave him this look. Like he was an old friend and a ghost, all at once, and they asked if he was really here. They called him Colonel.”

His aura shrinks and fades in an instant, all sound drawing in until he’s just a man again, watching them lie in the bed in pure disbelief. “They...”

“He went still,” Dr. Iplier continues, “and then he just... lost it. Shouting and raving, pulled a gun out and approached the bed— I was so surprised. From how he talks about them, I imagine they’d be the only person he wouldn’t hurt.”

That isn’t true at all. No matter if it was an accident.

“Yellow dragged him out. I had to sedate them— just a little something to calm them long enough for it all to pass.” He winces, eyes sympathetic as he looks them over. “They should wake in a few minutes, but... poor thing didn’t even know what had happened, and with their illness— a panic attack would only make it worse.

“So I called you. You’ve known Wilford longer than anyone— why would that trigger such an episode?”

Dark sighs, reaching up to rub his hands over his face. It would need to be said sooner or later. “We... we three have a history. Wilford was the Colonel— only his friends called him that— and after a... an incident with a certain snake,” he continues, “he... he lost touch, a little. A lot. We all lost a lot that day. I changed into this. The PA... died.”

Dr. Iplier’s normally-kind face hardens. “Mark did all of this? Mark killed them? Wait, they’re— they’re a human.”

“A reincarnation, and Mark only made that happen indirectly. He started everything,” Dark growls. “None of it was supposed to happen, yet, here we are. I would bet any effort to make Wilford remember would be painful, even after so long.”

“Trauma can repress memories, yes. If it’s as painful as all that... I can’t really blame him.” Dr. Iplier looks over the PA for a moment, thoughtful. “They’ve never mentioned being a reincarnation.”

Dark moves to their bedside before he even realizes, sinking down to sit on the edge of the soft covers. “They don’t know. All they know is this life they’ve had, right now.”

“But they don’t,” the doctor argues, “because they called him Colonel. They remembered him as a friend. Those aren’t delusions, Dark— they’re memories, unlocked by the fever!”

The PA shuffles beneath the blankets, giving a tiny, congested groan, and Dr. Iplier rushes up to check them over.

Memories. Confirmation beyond the feeling in his chest, their face, their mannerisms. He has never once uttered the title of Colonel around Wilford, much less with them around, which makes it a memory, which means they could remember Mark as a villain. Remember him as he was.

“Are you alright? Can you speak? I’m sorry, you just fell asleep so quickly.” Dr. Iplier’s voice remains soft, calm and professional. A little white lie won’t hurt if it prevents a panic.

“I’m very tired. And cold. You’re a doctor— am I in a hospital?”

They certainly sound delusional— dreamy and distant, voice raspy and catching on certain sounds.

“You’re—“ Dark catches his eyes flick to him, briefly. “You’re safe in your bed. It’s a house call. You can go back to sleep in a bit, once I’ve gotten your medicine. Alright?”

“Alright.” The PA sits back some as Dr. Iplier takes his leave from the bed, going into an adjoining bathroom. Their eyes, just as unfocused and distant, travel over the ceiling, down the walls— and lock onto him. And grow wide.

In the softest tone he’s ever heard from them, audible now that the noise from outside has gone, they say, “...Damien? Is that you?”

It isn’t them. It’s just the ramblings of someone in the throes of a terrible fever. But it is, it must be, because that’s their face and their voice, calling to him after a century of separation and grief, speaking his name with reverence and familiarity because they have never heard that name, not in this incarnation.

He trembles at that, something wholly involuntary. He wants to shake apart, wants to laugh and cry and rage and flee the room and scoop them into his arms.

Mark doesn’t matter.

His desire for revenge doesn’t matter.

Whatever has happened to them all— to Damien, Celine, William, the DA, Abe— doesn’t matter.

 He is only a man in a room, without powers, without hatred. He is a man in a room finally reunited with the person he loves more than anything, who he thought was long gone.

He is Damien, again, a bright and warm rush of feeling in his chest. “Songbird, I—“

“You came to visit me.” Oh, and their face grows so soft, so loving, a sweet and slow smile and warm eyes. One of their hands wriggles out from the covers, and they reach it towards him. “Thank you, sweetheart. I missed you.”

He reaches out to take their hand, because how can he not? “I missed you, too,” he whispers, clutching their burning fingers, and doesn’t miss the wash of blue light over the bed. “I missed you so much, my darling.”

“I must be seeing things,” they murmur, eyes scanning over his face, his torso, his arm. “You’re glowing, like an angel. But you’re cold.” Quickly, their face grows fearful. “Damien, am I— am I—“

They break off into harsh coughs, and he scoots up the bed, shushing them. “Hey, hey, now,” he soothes, once the coughing subsides. He uses his free hand to brush some hair back from their burning forehead. “Shh, no, my dear. My darling, you aren’t dead. You’re alive, you’re so alive, and you’re going to get better. I swear it.”

The PA watches him, blearily, and a small smile comes back to their face. “Good,” they breathe. “Good, because... I haven’t told you some things. I wouldn’t want to die before I do.”

A sharp pain stabs right through his stomach— right where the bullet wound is— and he grips their hand harder. “No, no, we wouldn’t want that.”

“You look so sad.” They move to get a better look at him, brow furrowed. “You look tired. What’s wrong? What happened?”

How could he possibly explain? How could he tell them anything without triggering some kind of episode, a panic attack or some rage like Wilford? Rather, he shakes his head. “I was worried about you, is all. I didn’t know when you’d wake up.”

Luckily, they take that at face value. “I’m awake now. Tired,” they admit, “but awake.”

“And I’m very glad for it.” He glances up to find Dr. Iplier, awash in blue and watching him with an unreadable expression, a dose of medicine in hand. “Oh. Right, your medicine. I should...”

Dr. Iplier shakes his head. “I think,” he says, softly, “that they might benefit from a familiar face. I can leave Google for further monitoring, if necessary. Now, drink up and then get some good, solid rest, alright?”

“Alright. Thank you, doctor.”

“Doctor—“ Dark— Damien calls, only to cut off at his expression. It’s knowing, a little indulgent, and his head tilts towards them as if to say stay with them.

Well. Doctor’s orders.

The door opens, then shuts, and they down the thick liquid in the cup with a grimace. “Still so bad,” they mutter, licking their lips, and he smiles. “Damien? Will... will you come up here with me?”

“I’m already on the bed, my dear.”

They shake their head. “No. I’m cold, and you feel cold, too. You should come here and hold me, and we’ll warm up. Alright?”

Something stirs to life in his shredded stomach, something he hasn’t truly felt since that last night, the poker game: butterflies. What feels like scores of them, fluttering and tingling and warm throughout his core. “You want me to hold you?”

“Yes. It feels like you haven’t in...” Their face turns into a thoughtful frown. “I don’t know how long. We used to, in university. Remember?”

Back when everything was simple, without the need to worry about their reputations or careers, without murderous backstabbers or magic or insanity. When they would nearly fall asleep on the floor in sheer, stubborn determination to get just a little more studying in, and cling to him when he arranged them both in bed.

When they’d tease him in the morning for still holding on, but not even trying to free themselves, either.

It wasn’t charged, there were no feelings— it was just them, comfortable together.

He aches with the desire for it, and uses his feet to kick off his shoes. “Alright. Scoot over.”

They’re sweaty and blistering hot, both of them still in their normal clothing, but Ada curls right up to him, anyway, their sigh a warm tide over his chest. “You’re still cold,” they murmur, even though they snuggle in even deeper.

“The room is cold,” he explains, just another little white lie for them. “I’ll warm up in no time— you just worry about getting some sleep.”

They turn their head, chin replacing their cheek on his chest, to look up at him, eyes close and fever-bright. “I feel... strange. Not, not just ill, but... like something is off. This doesn’t feel like my room. Am I really at home? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

He isn’t sure if that’s memory-clarity or fever-delirium, causing such a feeling. The DA from before, putting the pieces together, or the PA now, sicker than a dog and confused. “It’s your room,” he says, carefully. “In our new house. You’re very, very safe here, I promise you.”

Somehow, their eyes grow even brighter. “Our house?”

His gut twists and flutters. “If you want it to be, yes. You could stay here as long as you wanted. This room is all for you, and so is everything else, if you so choose.” He swallows, tilts his forehead down to theirs, searing heat against ice. “I hope you would.”

“No, I don’t think so.” They smile a little. “If it’s our house... we should have a room. You and me, ours. Do we?”

As if his heart couldn’t ache any more without breaking entirely. “Yes,” he whispers, giddy with too much emotion to quantify. “Yes, my darling, yes we could, if you said the word.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Their face turns from him, suddenly, and they yawn into his shoulder. “I don’t want to sleep yet. I haven’t seen you— and I want to tell you something. I should’ve, and I feel like I should right now. I feel like...”

He frowns, tightens the arms he has around them gently. “Like?”

“Like you won’t be here when I wake up. Like if I don’t say it right now, I won’t be able to.”

“Hey, now.” He moves one hand to cup their cheek, redirect their gaze back to him. “I’m not going anywhere. But you’re sick, my darling, and so tired; before you say anything, I think you should rest.”

They look at him, unconvinced, concerned. “Damien, I... you should know that I— and I should have said it then, but—“

“Shh.” He moves, presses his lips to their blazing hot forehead. “I know. I already know, my love. You can say it later, after you’ve rested. Please, for me.”

Slowly, as whatever medicine is kicking in and they’re already weak with illness, they move up, move in. The press of their lips is hot and dry, very brief and simple against his own, and he doesn’t get much chance to kiss back before they fall back to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. “Love you, Damien,” they murmur. “So much.”

He takes a breath, unnecessary yet difficult around the lump in his throat. “I love you, too, songbird. So much. Sweet dreams, my darling.”

He lays there for a very long time, holding them tight against his chest, cheek resting on their hair. If he closes his eyes, it’s just how things should have been a century ago: them cuddled up together in bed, warm and safe and comfortable, without worry.

In just a while, he’ll get up and fail to make breakfast for them; they’ll come in and laugh, and promise with a kiss against his cheek that they can try together next time.

He’ll go to the office, and they to theirs, and it might be hard but they’ll come back to their home, their bed, and do it all without secrecy.

He’ll be the happiest man who ever lived.

“Their fever is down.”

He opens his eyes. The room is dark, saved for a bedside lamp, and Yellow is standing beside them on one side of the bed. His face is as impassive as any other Google, but there’s something in his eyes that feels a little more human.

“I’m sorry?”

“Their fever is down.” A small, holographic screen blips to life in front of Yellow, displaying a number. “101.7 Fahrenheit. Your cooler body temperature pulled them out of the danger zone, I would hypothesize.”

It should be good news, and yet... he looks down at them, still sleeping peacefully. “Will they have any more memories? Will they still be...?”

“That is hard to predict.” Yellow tilts his head, curiously. “A fever this low has far less chance of delusion or hallucination— but, possibly, it could be enough to spark more recall. They could remember everything, or this could simply be another dream when they wake up. I could neither guarantee nor enforce either outcome. I’m sorry.”

That isn’t fair. “I just got them back,” he replies through gritted teeth. “You’re going to tell me that I’m going to lose them again? After what just happened?”

Yellow frowns, a measure of sympathy on his face. “You may. They may just go under lock, awaiting some other key to free those memories, as this fever did. If it means anything from me,” he continues, “I hope we can find that key. I have a long database, Dark, and I haven’t seen either of you as happy as you just were, together.”

Dark? “No, my name is...” He trails off, looking down at his arms, the blue light cascading over them and onto the bed.

Damien never glowed before, he couldn’t— it’s impossible. This room exists, and he got into it by a rip in space and time, not with his own two legs. There is a walking, talking, artificial human in front of him, with all of human knowledge on it.

The light flickers, begins to fade into static gray, hints of red and blue throughout. The emotion, so strong in his chest, fades as well, shrouded in a cloak of misery and indifference.

The figure in his arms still sparks everything good and wonderful he can still feel, but... it’s soured, now, with a memory of all that has happened.

He isn’t Damien, a man in a room with the person he loves.

He’s Dark, a bitter amalgamation of Broken Things, acting as a living ice pack for someone who won’t appreciate it later.

“Well,” he says, rolling his neck— it hadn’t felt stiff or aching, not until now. “You can tell when someone’s about to wake up, can’t you? Breathing, pulse, all of those?”

“Yes.”

He pauses, looking down at them once more. “Tell me just before they do.”

“Yes, sir.”

When Yellow gives the word, near dawn, Dark extricates himself from their grip and warps away.

---

He checks in on them, afterwards.

Not just through the Googles and Dr. Iplier, but from the shadows, when he has the time.

They’d call him a creep if they knew. As if he didn’t remember their quiet feet and an absurd number of ambushes upon his person, like a little cat. William would have killed for that hunter’s tread.

They’re looking better, slowly, day by day. More color in their cheeks, lively. Longer waking periods. Clearer eyes and less harsh coughs.

All of it means that his songbird— the one from before, just as Yellow had predicted— is gone, once more hidden behind lock and key. They’ve been purely modern from the moment their fever lowered.

It hurts. It hurts more than he thought it would, even though Damien has recessed; now, with their touch, their words so fresh in his mind, it feels like losing them all over again.

He needs to find that key, for his own sanity.

He works up the nerve to see to them in person, when Dr. Iplier gives him the all-clear. They’ve been somewhat ambulatory, which means it’s all-but passed, but... asking for them to stay a few extra days wouldn’t hurt.

As he approaches the door— blinking in from the void would be unequivocally rude and intrusive, he’s still a gentleman— he hears something. Their voice, and the ringing of a phone.

He should leave them to it. Privacy.

“Oh, no. Mark,” they mutter, raspy and irritated, before, brighter, “Hey, bud!”

No, fuck privacy. Melting into the shadows, he drifts inside to listen. Whatever tactics this snake uses on his darling, he needs to know.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

His shell nearly splits at the sound of his voice— so cold, so angry, not a hint of worry or care— but he forces himself back.

The PA scowls down at the phone. “I was sick, Mark. Remember?”

“Yeah, a week ago,” he scoffs. “And you’ve been ignoring me ever since. What the hell? You have things to do, you can’t just—“

“I had a fever! I couldn’t get out of bed!” The shout must hurt their throat, because it triggers a cough. It still sounds nasty. “You— I couldn’t— come back. Today is the first time I’ve gotten up.”

Mark pauses, and he sounds a touch softer, at least, when he says, “That cough— you weren’t kidding. Really?”

They take a few deep breaths. “Yes, really. You know I wouldn’t just abandon you. I care about you too much— even if you are a dumbass.”

How he loathes the genuine affection in their voice. He doesn’t deserve it— not from them, not from anyone.

“Yeah, well. You been in the Barrel all week? We kinda needed her for stuff, so if it needs disinfecting—“

“No, no, she’s parked, has been the whole time,” they reassure him. “I’ve been staying with—“

They cut off, panicked, and their eyes roam around the room. He watches them linger on soft yellow walls, a sunny window, a glorious desk and their comfortable bed— and they soften. A small smile grows on their lips. “With some friends,” they continue, softly. “They took really good care of me— better than being alone in a car, right?”

They’re friends. It could’ve been an omission for Mark’s benefit, but Dark knows better. He knows that little smile, even if they don't: the same little, fond thing when Damien gave them daffodils at graduation, their appointment to District Attorney; a cup of coffee made to their tastes; his bed after a long and exhausting night.

Thankful, and touched, and pleasantly surprised at their preferences being known so well. They mean it, even if they don’t remember.

Mark doesn’t say anything. He remains quiet, just breath on the other end of the line, long enough for the PA’s smile to fade, their eyes grow tense and worried.

“Mark? Are you—“

“You’ve been with him, haven’t you.”

It isn’t a question, and it’s cold and smooth as ice.

Their fingers twist into the blanket, knuckles white. “What? What do you mean? I’m just with—“

“You can’t lie to me. You can’t fool me. You’re a terrible liar.”

They swallow. “I’m safe, Mark,” they murmur, soft and appeasing. “I’m completely safe, alright? They gave me medicine and food and a bed, they took care of me.”

“To what end?” He comes through a little louder, now. “He does things like this— he’ll play nice and get you to trust him, and what happens when you do?

“Tell me,” he continues, firmer, when they don’t reply, “what happens? You trust him, and you get hurt. He’ll hurt you so badly, and I can try and try to keep you with me, keep you safe from him, but if you keep running back, I can’t do that.”

Dark can see shame in their eyes, in the hunch of their shoulders, even as they set their jaw. “He hasn’t hurt me,” they say, but they don’t sound half as certain as they did. “He says he won’t.”

Mark scoffs. “And you believe that? Of course he’d say that to you— he wants you to believe it so that you stay. He’s a monster, and he doesn’t care about you— not like I do. You know I do, don’t you, sunflower?”

The pet name is a slap to the face. He dares to be so bold, so close? All of the egos’ little affections he can manage, but from this snake? This viper, coiling around his darling, ready to strike?

That isn’t even touching the bold-faced lie that is his proclamation.

“You didn’t come to get me,” the PA mumbles, a last attempt at defiance, and he’s so proud of them— even when they blink, and something shining trails down their cheek.

“I’m sorry?”

“When I called you, and I was so sick, and said I couldn’t drive home, you didn’t come to get me.” Gritting their teeth, they rub their face against the sleeve of their shirt— something borrowed and too big, black and orange. No wonder Bing gave it up— he hates sleeves. “You said you were too busy.”

“I was! I was, sunflower, and you know I would have dropped everything if it wasn’t so important.” Smooth and oily and practiced. “I have to keep us in a roof over our heads and food to eat, sweetheart. If I hadn’t... you remember what it was like before.”

Before Dark can even begin to question that, and all the implications therein, Mark continues, “And imagine my worry, my fear, when I called you back after and got nothing. Barrel gone, no way to find you or contact you. And now I find out you’ve been led on by that— that thing? While you were vulnerable? While I couldn’t be there to protect you? Who knows what he could have done?”

“He wouldn’t—“

“He would. Because I love you so much, he would.”

There’s a beat. Slowly, the PA says, “... you love me?”

They sound hopeful, and it kills him inside.

“More than you could imagine,” Mark says, softly. “I’ve told you that before. That’s why I want you to stay close to me. That’s why I want to know where you are. That’s why I’m so upset right now. Because I love you, and I’m scared to death that something might happen to you.”

He prizes a little pet. Something he can dangle in front of Dark, taunting him. He keeps them in a cage, watches every move they make, and grows furious when they dare to step out of line.

Because, if they do, he loses power, loses control over his story.

Not because he really cares.

“Please,” Mark says. “My sunflower, come home to me.”

The PA… melts, for lack of a better word, and it sits wrong and cold in his stomach. “I... I would, Mark, but I’m still sick. When I can drive, maybe—“

“You shouldn’t spend another second in that... house,” he sneers, the same contempt Dark has for the van. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Mark—“

“No. God knows what he’ll do to you if you stay— and especially if you tell him I’m coming. Stay quiet and stay safe, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“They won’t let you in, Mark, please—“

“They can try and stop me.”

“Mark!” They struggle with a cough, but forces it back. “Mark, I don’t want to go.”

The silence is thick and heavy, nearly enough to shock Dark back into physical form. They what? After all this time, after so much convincing, after so much distrust and unnecessary anger—

“What.”

If Dark could see him, he knows Mark would be shaking with rage, the kind of slow-moving, icy power of a glacier. He doesn’t blame them for looking so afraid, fingers further twisting into the blanket.

“I— I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mark, I didn’t—“

“You did. Why do you hurt me like this, sunflower? I want what’s best for you, try to keep you safe, and you run off on me? You just throw everything I’ve done for you away? Throw my love away? Do you even love me?”

“Yes,” the PA says, quickly. Desperately. “Yes, I do, I love you, and I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“But you want to stay. I don’t think I believe you.”

“No, I do! I really do, I promise! I just...” They trail off to look around the room again. “I have a room, Mark. A real one, and it’s just perfect. If you could just see it—“

“Oh. Oh, you poor thing. Don’t you see, sweetheart? It’s just a trap.”

He’s the condescending, smug snake Dark remembers him as.

“It’s everything I want!”

“Exactly,” he croons, all false pity. “Exactly, sunflower. And what do you think will happen once you agree to stay? Once you fall for all his charms, his manipulations? If you believe him when he tells you that he cares for you, that he loves you and never wants to see you hurt? When he tells you that I’m the one hurting you?”

Their jaw works. They’re starting to look doubtful. “I...”

“He’ll take it all away, because he won’t need it— the room, the food, the kindness he used to capture you. He’ll already have you, and what happens if he has you?”

They don’t speak.

“What happens, sunflower, if he takes you from me?” Mark insists. “What happens if I can’t be there to protect you?”

“... He’ll hurt me.”

They sound so defeated, so quiet.

Dark doesn’t know where Mark is, but he wishes his power could interact with phone signals. If he could leap through that signal, he’d rip the bastard’s heart out in a second.

His songbird was stubborn, and argumentative, and took no one’s bullshit. Still are, really, but this...

What has he done to them to cow them so?

“That’s right,” Mark soothes. “He’ll hurt you, and keep you from me, and that will hurt me so much. I can’t stand to be away from you for so long, sunflower, and especially not when you’re hurting.”

Their fingers twist in the blanket again, rubbing fabric between thumb and index. Grounding behavior, he remembers. “Do I have to stay in the Barrel?” They whisper, nothing but dread.

“It is the safest place for you to be. But,” he adds, before the PA wilts much more, “because I missed you so much, because I love you so much... you’ll stay in my room, with me.”

That slimy, malodorous—

“Really?” Their eyes shine, and he feels sick.

“Really. I’ll make you feel so much better, sweetheart, I promise,” Mark purrs, and there’s a dark, dangerous promise lurking right underneath those words. “I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes, alright?”

He misses whatever they say, taking a moment to warp back into the void, where he allows his shell to split.

That monster— that absolute vile, disgusting creature— if he’s touched one hair on their head—

You knew it was a possibility.

You say that like it was a certainty!

It’s not like I wanted to be right! I wouldn’t wish him on anyone, and especially not on your one and only. I care about them, too.

... You think he’s done it before.

He always had... an appetite. If he had the opportunity— made an opportunity—

He’d force himself on them?!

Even if he didn’t, which... he might have, they aren’t exactly in a good position to consent. Even if they think they are. If they feel like they owe him, then...

It isn’t right. It isn’t right, he shouldn’t touch them. He never should have come close to them!

We could meet him at the gate.

There isn’t a punishment strong enough!

We’re creative, and we have time. We could think of something.

What about them? We can’t let them go back to that monster. I can’t, knowing what he might— please, god, I just want them out of his hands!

They were so close, but he has his hooks in them. If... if you, really you, showed up—

I can’t, not just like that. And they don’t remember.

They did. They could remember again. If they had time.

I can’t give them more time!

What time is it?

He forces himself back together and exits the void, just outside of their door. After straightening himself out, settling his aura, he knocks.

“Uh— come in?”

They’re still in bed when he enters, though their blanket has been folded back, as if they’re about to get up. “Oh, Dark,” they say, and it stings to hear it tinged with guilt, with fear. “I haven’t seen you.”

“I thought I’d let you get your rest,” he replies, softly. He won’t bring up their meeting, lest it worsen things. “But I was told how you were doing. I hear you’re on your feet?”

“Yeah.” They look down at their feet and wiggle them. It’s a silly little motion, unnecessary, but he can’t deny the fondness it sparks in his chest. “A little. Thanks for putting me up, by the way. I know it wasn’t—“

Dark shakes his head. “Any time. Really,” he emphasizes. “This room is yours any time you need one.”

They glance up at him nervously, watching his face. They must not find anything suspicious, because those nerves ease a little. “You know,” they reply, taking a second to gesture to everything, “it feels like it. Like it’s mine. It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad it’s to your liking.” He won’t mention it was made for that exact purpose. They’re already uncertain and scared. “If you’d like, you may stay as long as you need to. Influenza doesn’t leave you strong, after all.”

Their shoulders hike up, tense. “I, ah... I’m actually feeling pretty good. This one passed fast, I guess.” The PA shuffles around, swinging their legs off the side of the bed. “I’ll get out of your hair in— in a—“

Their legs wobble beneath them, and he uses a small warp to catch them before they collapse to the floor. They aren’t blisteringly hot anymore, but the touch makes his skin sing.

“Passed fast, hm?” He lifts, setting them back up on the bed. “Come, now, my darling. You can admit to still needing help.”

“I really should—“ They begin to cough, raspy and deep, and they take a few wheezing breaths before they speak next. “I really need to get home. I’m missed.”

Something tugs in his chest, warm and strong, and something shifts. “You’ll be missed here,” he murmurs, brushing hair back from their forehead. “You don’t have to go.”

His fingers shimmer blue. Damien notices that he’s in control just as they see his hands, and their eyes widen. “How can you do that? You have your static thing, yeah, but now you look— you look like—“ They reach up to grab his hand, turn it around in theirs.

“Like?” He doesn’t pull away, just lets them look, study his hands with curious eyes and gentle fingers.

“Someone.” Their brow furrows, a little wrinkle of frustration on their nose. “That isn’t helpful. You have a face I feel like I should know. It’s your face, but it’s... it’s kind. Different. I know it, it’s right on the tip of my tongue.”

They’re so, so close— both to figuring it out, and physically, to him. “You know a lot of us look alike,” he tries, hoping not to push. Force can do more harm than good. “That’s just how we are.”

They shake their head, firmly. “That isn’t it. It’s not his face, it’s yours. It’s yours and it’s from somewhere else, not here and now.” Their frown deepens. “At college. I— I didn’t go to college.”

The hands holding his squeeze tight, shaking. “Listen—“

“You had a different name.” They’re looking through him, now, somewhere far away; their features are tight with panic, with pain. “You had— you had a cane? Or, or Mark does. Did? You weren’t like this. You were like me. And your hands weren’t cold, they were so warm, and when you called me your darling I—“

They swallow, eyes finally coming up to meet his. “You’re crying,” they mumble.

Damien knows. He feels them, threatening to spill over, making his vision blur. “So are you,” he whispers, and doesn’t stop his hand from lifting to their cheek, stroking away one such tear with his thumb as it streaks down. They’re starting to feel warm again. “My darling, please, please, don’t hurt yourself. It’s okay if you can’t remember, I promise.”

“What am I supposed to be remembering? Why don’t I?” They push further into his hand, eyes wide. “Why do I feel like I do when I see you like this?”

He takes a breath. For a moment, it feels like his heart beats. “How do you feel? Please— just be honest,” he adds, when they hesitate.

They squeeze his hand again, so tight it almost hurts. “Like... I know how your arms feel around me. Like I know how you kiss and I want to feel it over and over. Like I never want to be separated from you again.”

Damien sobs. He can’t help it. They’re so close to it all, so close to just being his songbird again. “You know. You know, and you don’t have to leave. You can stay here with me, forever.”

“Stay?” Their face— the open understanding, the vulnerability, the revelation— slowly starts to shutter off.

No. No, no, no, it was working, they were remembering! “If you want. I wish you would, so badly. Please, my darling, my songbird, don’t leave.”

The name sparks something. “Your name is Damien,” they whisper.

“You remember me.”

“Not... not everything. But. The pianist and his songbird. You called me your songbird, sometimes.” They shake their head. “When? I didn’t go to college. I don’t go to parties. I definitely don’t know enough to be a lawyer.”

“I didn’t mention a lawyer.” Giddy, he leans in, touches their foreheads.

The PA doesn’t pull back. “I... remember, though. It’s not me, but it is. What—“

Their phone buzzes, and whatever trance has come over them shatters. They blink, eyes growing wide, and pull back out of his grip to check it.

“Darling?”

They look back at him, then the phone, then him. “I... I need to get out of here. I have a ride.”

Their voice is tight, somewhere between anger and confusion. When they stand, though they wobble again, they grit their teeth and stay upright.

“Please, you’re still sick,” Damien protests, standing to intercept them. “And, now that you’re remembering—“

“I’m not remembering anything,” they snap, pushing by him. At the door is a bundle of their things, which they gather up. “I know what I know, and that’s it. I don’t know whose face that is or— or what you’re trying to do, but it isn’t funny. It hurts.”

The PA stops, trembling, in the middle of slipping on their shoes. “He was right. He was right about it, and I—“

No. No, that snake, that villain— “Please—“

“You—“ They put a hand up between them, leaning back. It tips them off balance, and they hit the door with a grunt. “Stay away from me. Stop getting into my head. I’m going home— don’t ask for me again.”

“No, please—!”

They slam the door behind them.

He slips into the void, hoping to follow, to cut them off, change their mind, but they’re remarkably quick. At the shadows at the edge of the property, he watches them shakily stalk up to some ostentatious new car, where He is already waiting, arms crossed.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, but the irritation drops when they offload the things in the car without a word. “Buddy? Hey, I’m not—“

They shut the door and walk around to the other side, where they collapse into his front with a sob.

His arms immediately come up, one hand on the back of their head. “Hey, hey,” he says, softly. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. What happened?”

“I’m- I’m s-sorry,” they cry, muffled and only audible through his powers, stretching thin to hear. “I’m sorry, y-you were right. I sh— I should have waited for you, and I didn’t and— it hurts. It hurts so bad, Mark.”

His face tilts into their hair, where he presses a kiss. “You were going to find out sooner or later,” he replies. “I tried to warn you. He only wants to use you and hurt you, in the end. However sweet it starts.”

They nuzzle further into his chest. “It was. It was everything, it—“

He leans back some, looking into their eyes. “I know, but you and I? We’re all we need.”

They smile, just a little, and he presses his lips to their forehead, then winces. “Jesus, you’re burning up. Come on, let’s get you home and safe in bed. I’ll take care of you.”

He watches until they pull away, then blinks into the void.

Mark’s triumphant smile, vicious and sharp in his direction, haunts him.

[baddly-well-done-translations]

Who is (and who was) who in Marilyn Manson | by Lala Toutonian (Madhouse magazine N°84, year 1997)

A very normal family

  Stop with the Reverend, for Satan’s sake! It’s the turn of the rest of the band, those relegated who maintain a lower (although not less controversial) profile. It’s difficult growing behind the shadow of such a character as Marilyn Manson, because of that is essential to maintain a spiritual strength and a fire-proof constancy. Here, an article (with the most solicited data) about the members and opus of the group which has most given to talk in this time.

Twiggy Ramirez: androginous (but sexual)

  The second place in the category which refers to a visual phenome, is undoubtedly for the androginous bassist. Twiggy Ramirez is only one step away from taking the name of Antichrist Superstar, as his mentor. 

  “I pretend trying to break that barrier between what’s femminine and masculine” says the one who insists with dresses; “I think I had my first erection the day I put on my mother’s undergarments. It’s a part of me which feels comforted with that, as so many other people. Obviously I’m not a hermaphrodite, although people believe so. There’s a very thin line between hetero, bi, and homosexual”.

  His thing is terminant. “We’re here to change today’s mainstream because it’s very mediocre. There was a time in which music wasn’t exciting anymore, there wasn’t a single one rockstar, it depressed me. I’m proud of being part of the mainstream now, somebody had to change it, turn it more exciting”. 

  He asegurates his thing was there since his mother’s womb. “She danced in a cage for the Kinks and Leslie West’s band”. His father could be the legendary guitarist West or Ray Davies from the Kinks: “I grew up surrounded by music. I lived with an aunt who was a groupie and very friend of the Ramones. I remember she hung up with one from the Bee Gees too”. If he hadn’t got success with music, he assegurates he’d be a prostitute. 

  And he continues with polemic themes: “I was raised without religion, I’ve never been cristian or satanist, I’m nothing”. He’s a rockstar: “Our music is so straight forward… There’s a group of idiots who simulate they don’t want to be rockstars, like if they felt pity for themselves. We’re the exception. The last time I talked with my mother, she told me little boxes with pubic hair were arriving at the house. I thought it was spectacular. Someone has to raise and care for those children. If their parents raise them, they’ll be just like us”. 

  Twiggy’s musical career started in primary school. He started playing violin because of a Star Wars film. In secondary school days, “Shout at the Devil” by Mötley Crüe and “Stay Hungry” by Twisted Sister were the albums which had most amazed him and the ones which ended up being decisive in his career. “Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show” was his first band: “A blend of country-wester disco with rockabilly bits”. 

  Ramirez met Manson in a Shopping Mall. “We had a band called ‘Mrs. Scabtree’ in which I dressed up as a black woman and sang. Then we started ‘Satan on Fire’, christian death metal group. I also sang and played guitar while Manson played the bass there. All these projects were while the creation of Marilyn Manson was taking place. He (Manson) played drums and bass, mostly so I could improve with guitar”. 

  Attracted by most dark metal genres “because of its message and rage”, Twiggy realized there was a lot of limitation, you couldn’t go further and the audience was minimal in this type of events. 

  He was invited to join the band after the recording of “Portrait of an American Family” and after two rehearsal weeks, they went on tour. “First album was recorded as a live band. In ‘Smells Like Children’ most of the material were covers. Scarcely in the song ‘Scabs, Guns and Peanut Butter’ I could give my own musical idea”. 

  Until that moment nothing could prevent the path the “Antichrist Superstar” would take, although the creepy version of “Sweet Dreams” deatheached a rotten smell. Ramirez assegurates that while in the “Smells..” tour, Marilyn and him had the same dreams, so they started composing together because it seemed that inspiration had the same start point in common: “In those days we talked about telepathy. We knew what the other was thinking and what we pretended for every song”. 

  The recording process of “Antichrist Superstar” ended up being pretty stressful for Twiggy since the moment in which Daisy was fired out of the band: “I don’t really know what was up with Daisy, but I was feeling alone, I wasn’t contributing in anything. I was lucky that there was Trent (Reznor)” Twiggy, with Marilyn Manson, plus Madonna Wayne Gacy’s contributions, were some of the pillars that helped “Antichrist Superstar” being the success it is.

God’s chosen one

  The last thing the group’s members needed after the recording of Antichrist Superstar was having to search for a replacement for Berkowitz. But in the face of Daisy’s inability to get into the Manson family, they had to search for a six string player. This was in May 96’, and after a year they crashed into Zim Zum. While dozens of musicians paraded around Treznor’s house, the trio Manson-Ramirez-Gacy was acting as a judge while watching auditioning aspirants. 

  Although his name doesn’t derivate from a sex simbol and a murderer, the nickname has a particularity worthy of emphatize: the idea was taken from Hebrew. Zim Zum was the angel God had chosen to do the dirty work at the start of times; the same function was given to him by Mr. Manson while including him in the band. There are other dark sides in his ambivalent personality too: Tzimtzum refears, in cabbalistic terms, to the place God left for giving place to humanity. Also his name could be attributed to the serial assassin from the 60’s, called Raymond Zum. 

  From Illinois, Chicago, he worked for a long time in a guitar factory (In fact, three guitars of his are self-made). Apart of LSD (Life, Sex and Death), he had never participated in a band before. He debuted recording the live version of “Irresponsible Hate Anthem”.

A simple guy: Olivia Newton Bundy

  Brian Tutunick is an original member of the Spooky Kids, after the initial project of Marilyn Manson, he continued his career in Collapsing Lungs and now he plays in Nation of Fear: “Nation of Fear started in 1995 after the dissolution of Collapsing Lungs. This project really was in my plans before that Marilyn Manson thing, as something more industrial. But some members of the bands preferred hip-hop. Then I met DJ Grinch, who was a Collapsing fan, and we started Nation together”.  He assegures his thing is industrial, goth, alternative and a bit of rap and hardcore, everything blended with computers. 

  How was his history in Marilyn Manson? “Perry (Zsa Zsa Speck) and I were working on the Collapsing thing, and we were very friends. We had never made music before, but we wrote a lot of poetry. He started hanging out with Scott (Daisy Berkowitz) and recorded something like six tracks. That way they started Spooky Kids and I was asked if I wanted to be part of the project.  I joined them, although I always pretended returning to Collapsing. Everyone gave ideas about performance and the visual part, but Manson already knew what direction we had to take. Between 1989 and 1990 we had only five shows. Madonna was bizarre. When we quit off the band because we wanted to keep up with Collapsing, we told him to take charge of the samplers. He was an encyclopedia of bizarre acts”, tells Olivia. 

“I basically left the band because Manson and I have our own messages, someones in common, others not (...) I’m not on the musician's side. I hate musicians. I’m with entertainment, because of that I have more in common with a stripper than with Billy Joel”, concludes Wayne Gacy like if he wanted to make clear his mental lucidity. 

  Olivia practically doesn’t see the members of Marilyn Manson anymore, unless they met in a club or pub in the city. “Marilyn Manson is a shock rock band. They’re what they’re because they’re very controversial. There’s a thing I find particularly funny: religious groups which attentate in it’s shows. I consider that threatening a stadium full of kids with a bomb is a lot worse than a simple guy who’s trying to play his music”.  Simple? Guy?...

Leafing the Daisy

  When Daisy Berkowitz said goodbye to his peers in the middle of Antichrist Superstar’s production, fans were left totally shocked. After desperate searches by the press hand, he finally appeared, only to present Three Ton Gates, his new aggrupation. Now he’s heading towards the trial Manson initiated because of his composition’s rights. 

  “I wasn’t fired. I felt like I didn’t have credit for what I was doing and certainly not the opportunity of doing my music, while that was all I did between the first album and Smells Like Children. Manson didn’t accept any of the compositions I had for Antichrist Superstar. He only wanted ‘Wormboy’ and I felt deceived. He didn’t respect me. He changes opinions every five minutes, I’m not exaggerating. He was always searching for a sonorous personality and I contributed a lot in that field. When you write, you cannot simply transmit what you have in your head. He isn’t a musician, so he doesn’t understand that. He never appreciated my effort in creating a big sound unity”. 

  He assures Manson wanted to work with Twiggy and not with him, because the bassist took charge of the guitars after Daisy’s departure. “When I noticed I had only participated in a third part of the album, I decided to go away. They didn’t even include lots of guitars! They literally didn’t let me enter the studio, I only entered two times per week to do the basics with guitars. I played in five tracks: ‘Warmboy’, ‘Tourniquet’, ‘Mr. Superstar’ and ‘Antichrist Superstar’. Then they told me ‘Now you can leave’ and they hadn’t even ended the album. I realized I had to leave...“ laments Daisy. 

  He criticises the Reverend saying he had never had a band before and he doesn’t know what professionalism is. He doesn’t hang out with any of the band members now: “Nobody has even invited me to a show”. What does not being “Daisy Berkowitz” anymore feel like? “A bit better”, he tries to convince us. 

  The ones who want to contact the ex-Daisy, can do it at http://www.spookykids.com/threetongate (It’s a magazine from the ‘97, I hardly believe the page even exists now)

[cicivford]

Hi I’m Cicely!!!! There’s lots of new faces around here🤎. Many have come and gone as expected, but to those of you that stuck around {new & old}, thank you so much for being here. I’m really grateful!! . 🍂 I’ve had this account for almost 6 years. I am an avid reader and a horrible bookstagrammer lol. I don’t try to keep up anymore. I read too slowly so in between I try my best to help others see the best in themselves through very passionate encouragement. I am seeking Jesus always and I don’t hide it. I believe in the power of prayer & faith so I share a lot about that. I am obsessed with the autumn season because it brings to mind so many cherished memories with my mom growing up. I thrive in September and October. 🍂This account used to be called therusticwindow because it was a reflection of my love for natural tones which isn’t changing lol but just my name gave me more peace. There have also not been enough books on my feed in my own voice. All I can do is do better in that regard. 🍂I was born & raised in the Windy City, Chicago. 🍂Fun fact: My mom was born on Halloween and I was born on Mother’s day. 🍂 Three months ago I stopped drinking coffee. I drink tea, water, vegetable juice & fruit smoothies. 🍂I have a masters degree in Journalism & I’ve worked in only two industries in my entire adult life - education and media. I’ve been a lead teacher, a teachers aid & an educational staff writer, but I was also a columnist for a hyper local Black newspaper, a floor director for a national children’s literacy program at WCIU-TV here in Chicago. I was a interviewee/celeb rangler for WTTW channel 11 in the documentary department and I worked as a lead production assistant at Central City Productions who is responsible for the Gospel Stellar Awards. 🍂 All so random LOL, but I’m thankful for this community and SO proud of the friendships I’ve made here with people from all over and of different backgrounds. 🍂 Also my hair grows up & out in its natural state. Imagine the NATURAL texture & growth pattern of your hair being policed in a corporate setting. That is what institutional racism is. ARREST BREONNA TAYLOR’S KILLERS. Love you all!🤎 (at Chicago, Illinois) https://www.instagram.com/p/CB3e1_WnhR1/?igshid=1j6nqysunvf9d

[doubleattitude]

Club Dance Studio

The Dance Awards, Las Vegas 2017: RESULTS

High Scores by Age:

PeeWee Solo

5th: Ellie Smith-’Amazing Grace’

6th (tie): Madyson Barney-’When You Wish Upon A Star’

Didn’t Place

Brinklee Grako-’Wonderful World’

Sydney Kelly-’The Blessing’

Mini Solo

1st: Alexis Adair-’Strands’

3rd (tie): Brightyn Rhines-’Petrichor’

4th: Brooklin Cooley-’Solitude’

7th: Paige Kracht-’Daylight’

Didn’t Place

Kanon Greer-’Roxy’

Vanessa Valenzuela-’Heart Cry’

Isabella Lynch-’Blue Birds’

Bella Fernandez-’Stargazing’

Kenzie Charboneau-’Cinema Italiano’

Addison Jones-’Ooh Ooh Child’

Rachel Loiselle-’Only The Winds’

Bella Sor-’Every Season’

Brynlee Schabron-’Beautiful Like Me’

Hailey Baer-’Go Crazy’

Riley Knab-’Move’

Delaney Taylor-’Burnin Up’

Posey Harris-’Lipstick’

Mckenzie Robinson-’Holding On’

Sayler Conover-’Rich and Famous’

Chloe Slone-’Nuvole’

Grace McKinley-’Hold Up’

Jonah Benyamin-’Grey’

Kyla Robinson-’Won’t Ya Come’

Olivia Benyamin-’Trust’

Arie Russell-’One Woman Army’

Brooklyn Jones-’Wind It Up’

Junior Solo

5th: Audrey Caldwell-’Beach’

8th: Kaya Walsh-’Without’

9th: Samantha McGowan-’Slither’

10th: Summer O’Haver-’Darkness’

Didn’t Place

Kylie Propps-’Evil Like Me’

Paetyn Kuntz-’Pacing’

Marianna Hedger-’Crossed Paths’

Makenna Taylor-’Hyperballad’

Breanna Ng-’Lose It’

Kayla Walsh-’Without’

Milla Fabirkiewicz-’To My Soul’

Daylyn Lucky-’Peace’

Marlee Grako-’Trophy’

Elle McAuley-’Perception’

Landrie Peterson-’Solitude’

Teen Solo

5th: Jasmine Robinson-’Surrender’

7th (tie): Kendall Wheeler-’The Storm Within’

9th (tie): Jazlyn Robinson-’Transformations’

9th (tie): Jenna Valenzuela-’Yearning’

Didn’t Place

Chloe Davis-’Another Life’

Taryn Bee-’Much Closer’

Aspen Lynch-’Oasis’

Jenn Gamma-’Distant Lights’

Claire Glessner-’On Reflection’

Tatiana Savedra-’Funny Valentine’

Taylor Knab-’One Way Or Another’

Jaelah Stanley-’Keep An Eye On Me’

Sidney Hopkins-’Runnin’

Marley Gorman-’Question’

Sophia Benyamin-’Love For That’

Laynee Hahn-’Time Passing’

Hailey Jimenez-’Breathe In’

Kamilla Johnson-’Dawn’

McKenna Dickson-’Tremors’

Senior Solo

1st: Simrin Player-’Tiger’s Bride’

10th: Isabella Boyer-’Spine’

Mini Duo/Trio

1st (tie): Alexis Adair, Brightyn Rines, Brooklin Cooley-’Stable’

PeeWee Group

2nd ($100): ‘Silent Night’

Mini Group

4th: ‘Til’ Morrow’

5th (tie): ‘Don’t Worry About Me’

Didn’t Place

‘Grown Woman’

‘Hair’

‘Isn’t She Lovely’

‘Viva La Swing’

Junior Group

5th: ‘Le Corsaire’

Didn’t Place

‘In Love With A Monster’

‘Sky Full of Stars’

‘Sleep’

‘Superego’

‘The Wait’

Teen Group

4th (tie): ‘Concentrate’

Didn’t Place

‘Cage Of Bones’

‘Heart of Stones’

Senior Group

1st: ‘Settle In’

Didn’t Place

‘Foolish Games’

PeeWee Line

2nd ($100): ‘Lullaby’

Mini Line

4th: ‘Wanting’

5th (tie): ‘No More Fear’

5th (tie): ‘We Run This’

Didn’t Place

‘In Person’

Junior Line

1st: ‘Awakening’

5th (tie): ‘Strings’

Didn’t Place

‘Chicago, Illinois’

‘Do You Love Me?’

Teen Line

3rd (tie): ‘The Self House’

Didn’t Place

‘Esmerelda’

‘Give Us A Little Love’

‘Goons Out’

‘Pick Up the Pace’

‘Viva La Vida’

PeeWee Extended Line

3rd ($50): ‘Hard Knock Life’

Mini Extended Line

1st ($200): ‘We So Meek’

Didn’t Place

‘Ease on Down The Road’

‘I’ll Fly Away’

‘Sing Like The Birdies’

Junior Extended Line

1st: ‘Vibeology’

3rd (tie): ‘Sit Down, You’re Rocking The Boat’

Didn’t Place

‘Afterglow’

‘Did I Mention’

‘Good Morning Baltimore’

‘When I Grow Up’

Teen Extended Line

Didn’t Place

‘3 Strikes’

‘Do You Remember?’

‘Flashing Lights’

‘Holy Water’

‘Let It All Go’

‘Mine’

‘Money’

‘Ooh, Kill Em’

‘Opposites Attract’

‘Red Arrow’

‘Sexyback’

PeeWee Production

1st ($200): ‘Cookin’ With Grease’

Junior Production

1st: ‘No Mercy’

Teen Production

2nd: ‘Bang’

High Scores by Performance Division:

PeeWee Jazz

1st ($200): ‘Cookin’ With Grease’

PeeWee Musical Theater

1st: ‘Hard Knock Life’

PeeWee Lyrical

1st: ‘Silent Night’

2nd: ‘Lullaby’

Mini Lyrical

1st (tie): ‘Don’t Worry About Me’

2nd: ‘Isn’t She Lovely’

4th: ‘I’ll Fly Away

Mini Musical Theatre

3rd: ‘Sing Like The Birdies’

5th: ‘Ease on Down The Road’

Mini Jazz

4th: ‘We Run This’

5th: ‘Hair’

Didn’t Place

‘Grown Woman’

‘In Person’

‘Viva La Swing’

Mini Contemporary

4th: ‘Til’ Morrow’

5th (tie): ‘Wanting’

Didn’t Place

‘No More Fear’

Mini Hip-Hop

1st: ‘We So Meek’

Junior Lyrical

1st: ‘Afterglow’

5th: ‘Sky Full of Stars’

Junior Musical Theatre

1st: ‘Sit Down, You’re Rocking The Boat’

Didn’t Place

‘Chicago, Illinois’

‘Good Morning Baltimore’

Junior Specialty

1st (tie): ‘Superego’

2nd: ‘Did I Mention’

Junior Contemporary

1st: ‘Awakening’

5th (3-way tie): ‘Strings’

Didn’t Place

‘Do You Love Me?’

‘Sleep’

‘The Wait’

Junior Jazz

1st: ‘Vibeology’

Didn’t Place

‘In Love With A Monster’

‘When I Grow Up’

Junior Ballet

1st: ‘Le Corsaire’

Junior Hip-Hop

1st: ‘No Mercy’

Teen Contemporary

4th: ‘The Self House’

Didn’t Place

‘3 Strikes’

‘Cage of Bones’

‘Concentrate’

‘Flashing Lights’

‘Holy Water’

‘Red Arrow’

Teen Hip-Hop

2nd (tie): ‘Bang’

3rd (tie): ‘Ooh, Kill Em’

5th: ‘Goons Out’

Teen Lyrical

Didn’t Place

‘Do You Remember?’

‘Give Us A Little Love’

‘Heart of Stone’

‘Let It All Go’

‘Mine’

‘Viva la Vida’

Teen Ballet

1st: ‘Esmerelda’

Teen Jazz

5th: ‘Opposites Attract’

Didn’t Place

‘Money’

Teen Specialty

2nd: ‘Pick Up The Pace’

3rd (tie): ‘Sexyback’

Senior Lyrical

3rd: ‘Foolish Games’

Senior Contemporary

2nd (tie): ‘Settle In’

Specialty Awards:

Mini Outstanding Technical Achievement

‘No More Fear’

Junior Outstanding Technical Achievement

‘Awakening’

Teen Outstanding Technical Achievement

‘The Self House’

Senior Outstanding Technical Achievement

‘Settle In’

Best Production Performance

‘No Mercy’

Best Jazz Performance

‘Vibeology’

Best Ballet Performance

‘Esmerelda’

‘Le Corsaire’

Best Hip-Hop Performance

‘No Mercy’

‘We So Meek’

Best Contemporary Performance

‘Awakening’

Best Musical Theatre Performance

‘Sit Down, You’re Rocking the Boat’

Best Specialty Performance

‘Superego’

Best Lyrical Performance

‘Don’t Worry About Me’

‘Afterglow’

Best Performance:

Mini

1st runner-up: ‘We So Meek’

Junior

2nd runner-up: ‘Awakening’

Teen

5th runner-up: ‘The Self House’

Senior

3rd runner-up: ‘Settle In’

Best Dancer:

Mini Female

2nd runner-up: Brooklin Cooley ($100)

Top 22: Vanessa Valenzuela

Didn’t Place

Olivia Bell

Olivia Benyamin

Kenzie Charboneau

Kanon Greer

Addison Jones

Brooklyn Jones

Paige Kracht

Rachel Loiselle

Isabella Lynch

Grace Mckinley

Kyla Robinson

Arie Russell

Chloe Slone

Bella Sor

Delaney Taylor

Mini Male

Winner: JT Church ($350)

Top 13: Jonah Benyamin

Junior Female

Top 21: Audrey Caldwell

Top 21: Milla Fabirkiewicz

Top 21: Marley Heath

Top 21: Samantha McGowan

Junior Male

Top 12: Isaiah Wilson

Didn’t Place

Paetyn Kuntz

Bailey LaMagdelaine

Madison Levato-Demar

Elle McAuley

Breanne Ng

Summer O’Haver

Landrie Peterson

Taylor Ponsness

Kylie Propps

Makenna Taylor

Kayla Walsh

Teen Female

Didn’t Place

Sophia Benyamin

McKenna Dickson

Jenn Gamma

Marley Gorman

Chevelle Heller

Hailey Jimenez

Kamilla Johnson

Jasmine Robinson

Jazlyn Robinson

Tatiana Savedra

Carlee Schield

Jenna Valenzuela

Mia Wilson

Lizzy Zaritsky

Teen Male

Top 22: Sky Bleeker

Senior Female

Winner: Simrin Player ($1000)

Didn’t Place

Isabella Boyer

Senior Male

Top 20: Brandt Czerniski

Studio of the Year:

Winner: Club Dance Studio

[xvillanueva]

( SHAY MITCHELL + CISFEMALE ) —  Have you seen XYLA VILLANUEVA ? This THIRTY year old is a DIGITAL MARKETING MANAGER who resides in MANHATTAN. SHE has been living in NYC for TEN YEARS, and is known to be RESILIENT and QUICK-WITTED, but can also be STUBBORN and PESSIMISTIC, if you cross them. People tend to associate them with GLIMMERING GOLD JEWELRY and CITY LIGHTS AT DUSK — ( gail, 24, she/her, n/a, EST )

When Xyla Villanueva (also known as Xy) was born on a hot August Chicago afternoon in 1992, her family was not prepared for the whirlwind of a woman she would turn out to be. From a young age, Xy was go-go-go. She was the kind of toddler that you always had to keep an eye on, one that but anything into her mouth and cried at the smallest inconvenience just to get your attention. While she was a handful from the very first breath she took, she was also incredibly passionate, caring and bold - something she carried and develop into her teen years.

Family Life

Xyla had an amazing relationship with her mother Isadora, often viewing her more as another, albeit more authoritative sister. She told her mother everything - which boys she thought were cute at school, all the latest gossip and how frustrated her sisters made her. Though Isadora worked a full-time job as a high-school teacher in their neighbourhood, Is always found the time to have dinner with the girls and stay updated with whatever was going on in their lives. As a result, Isadora was, and still is, Xyla’s best friend and closest confidant.

In contrast, Xy’s relationship with her father was nothing but rocky. Maxwell Villanueva worked for a successful IT Company based in Chicago, with offices across the country. Because of his position within the company and the authority he held, he was always jetting off to city after city on work trips and spendings weeks at a time away from his family. But Maxwell had nothing but his family’s best interest in mind. His prestigious and high paying job allowed Xy, her mother and her two sisters, Quinn (22) and Rowan (29) to have everything they could have possibly wanted, as a child, his absence angered her. She often questioned what he was really doing on trips, why he would spend so much time away from their family and if he even cared about them. This caused her to become quite bitter, pessimistic and suspicious well into her adult years. Today, their relationship is much better than it was, however nothing like what she has with her mother.

Xyla is the middle child of three daughters, and far more rebellious and out-spoken than her sisters. Quinn and her parents live in Chicago, while her older sister lives in Montreal with her husband and little girl. They come to visit her every now and then.

Xyla’s Attitude

Growing up with such strong female figures in her life, Xyla grew to develop the no-nonsense, strong willed attitude that her mom and older sister Rowan had. This was something she then instilled in her little sister Quinn.

While she is unequivocally daring, vivacious and a natural leader, Xyla can also be very stubborn, self-centred and impossibly jealous when she doesn't get her way. This mix of such strong personality traits often causes an internal conflict, where in which her heart told her one thing, and her head said another. As a result, she often finds herself in confrontational situations. However, these traits have allowed Xy to thrive in her position as a Digital Marketing Manager.  

Her mood greatly depends on the day, the number of emails waiting in her inbox and whether or not she’d had coffee in the morning. To many, Xyla can appear intense, never really bending to fit the needs of others, and not caring much about what others think of her. But if you’re lucky enough to break through her tough shell, she may be one of your best friends.

Xyla’s Career

Xyla always had an affinity for the media industry, and all that went into it. She found herself actively watching advertisements, analyzing designs of bus ads and critiquing the production value of commercials for fun. However, her fascination with the industry stemmed from the strategic manipulation that encompassed the entire industry. This natural interest propelled her into moving from her hometown Chicago, Illinois to New York to pursue a Marketing Concentrated Business degree at NYU.

Present

Xy lives in Manhattan with her French Bulldog, Mr. Butters, and works as a Digital Marketing Manager for an agency in the city. Every second and every minute of her days are occupied with emails, client calls and meetings, drinks with the girls, candle lit dates and launch parties. Xyla can always be found with a perfect deep red manicure, her hair in a near permanent blow-out, heels clicking against the city pavement and purse slung over her shoulder with everything from her laptop to a canned wine, for emergencies of course.

Wanted Connections!!

I’m really open to almost all plots, but these are just some I’ve whipped up off the top of my head. Ofc, we can always brainstorm and come up with some that better fit our muses!

- ex-fling/friends with benefits. give me one of those are-they or aren’t-they plots! let’s blur the line between romance and just hookin up.

- ride-or-die. xy needs a bunch of friends, but this would be her ride-or-die in the city. they can go to each other for any and everything, discussing men, women, work and everything in-between over bottomless mimosas every sunday

- frenemy. they just don’t get along but play nice when necessary. they both secretly, or not-so-secretly detest each other.

- sister. I would love for one of her sisters to make an appearance!

[creepingsharia]

Illinois: Grandson of honor-killing, terror-linked ‘Palestinian’ Muslim running for Congress

Rashad “Rush” Darwish’s platform: support for sanctuary cities, amnesty for illegals, and taking guns from law-abiding Americans.

via Ballotpedia:

Rush Darwish (Democratic Party) is running for election to the U.S. House to represent Illinois' 3rd Congressional District. He is on the ballot in the Democratic primary on March 17, 2020.

via Chicago-Sun Times: Chicago-area congressional candidate’s remarks about Jews, Israel spark questions

Rashad “Rush” Darwish, 42, runs a television and photography production business in Pilsen. He said in the interview he adopted the less ethnic-sounding name of Rush in 2001 — before the 9-11 attacks — when he was hired for an on-air TV news job in Tyler, Texas. He later switched careers and returned to the Chicago area.

His parents, now Lemont residents, were born in the West Bank village of Beitin. At age 6, his family moved from Stone Park back to Beitin for two years to live with his maternal grandmother. At that kickoff event this summer, Darwish said, “The very foundation of who I am, the values I learned growing up in Palestine, is embedded in me.”

Darwish is on the executive board of AMVOTE, the American Middle East Voters Alliance PAC, a state-level political action committee.

As he seeks to make history, Darwish’s newfound political muscle is bringing attention to comments he made this summer and years ago.

At a campaign kickoff event in June, Darwish in a speech incorrectly said Lipinski got $15,000 from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, a pro-Israel influential lobbying group. However, AIPAC is not a political action committee, does not endorse and does not donate to campaigns. AIPAC members and allies, like anyone, can contribute as individuals and use their personal networks to raise money for candidates.

Darwish provided no details to back up his $15,000 assertion when the Sun-Times asked him about it, saying “what I can do at this stage” is “take a closer look. … So if I technically said it wrong, then, I would have to look into that.”

Back in 2015, as a provocative radio talk show host, Darwish excoriated a guest, Ray Hanania — who, among other things, comments on and writes about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Darwish told Hanania he sounded “like you are praising the Israeli people and the Jewish civilization as if they are great people.”

Darwish told the Sun-Times, “I’ll be honest with you. I may have misspoke if I said the word Jews. That was a mistake on my part. Usually I think I’m pretty good at knowing on the show not to use the word Jews because Jews are not, that’s not the problem.” His problem, he said is with a “pro-Israeli government agenda.”

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

A quick look at Darwish’s webpage and he is open about not only his platform in support of illegal aliens but his ongoing personal support to illegal aliens. Excerpts from his platform below:

In my personal time, I have been connecting undocumented families I know with pro-bono immigration attorneys to assist them in gaining legal status...what we need as a country is comprehensive and fair immigration reform to put these families on a path to citizenship...

As your Congressman I would:

Support sanctuary cities and asylum seekers...

Support comprehensive and fair immigration reform to make our immigration system simpler, more accessible, particularly for non-native english speakers

Expand my work personally to create and market a large network of pro-bono immigration attorneys to assist undocumented families in gaining legal status.

Darwish is also anti-Second Amendment and an open gun grabber. Again from his platform site:

Taking assault rifles, high capacity magazine clips, and other weapons of war completely off our streets...

Rush believes Congress should immediately pass a national ban on the importation and sale of all assault rifles and high capacity magazine clips.  These weapons should only be utilized by our Armed forces and at certain times by local law enforcement.

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

Darwish focuses on preventing some law-abiding Americans from even purchasing guns, specifically, what he refers to as “white nationalist” and Trump supporters. There is no mention of his co-religionists and their jihad.

But Darwish is not only an open border, sanctuary city supporting, amnesty for illegals, gun grabbing socialist, Darwish is the grandson of one of the first known Muslim honor killers in the United States.

Twitter user @kristintweeted engaged Rashad, aka Rush, about this on her Facebook page. Shortly thereafter he blocked her. Screen shots here.

Darwish’s father is Amir Darwish, President of “The Coalition of Palestinian-American Organizations.”

In this 1991 St. Louis Post Dispatch article on the 1991 honor killing of Tina Issa, Rush Darwish’s father defended his father in law who was convicted in the Islamic honor killing of his own daughter. via Parents guilty in murder of daughter:

A St. Louis Circuit Court jury deliberated less than four hours Friday before finding Zein Isa and his wife, Maria, guilty of first-degree murder in the stabbing of their youngest daughter.

The prosecutor, Assistant Circuit Attorney Dee Joyce-Hayes, said she was pleased but added she had been concerned that jurors might have found Maria Isa guilty of the less serious crime of second-degree murder.

Her lawyer, Charles M. Shaw, had contended that Maria sided with Tina in a growing family rift. The mother tried to protect Tina when Zein Isa plunged a knife into the girl's chest on Nov. 6, 1989, at the family's South Side apartment, Shaw said.

Amir Darwish of Chicago, a son-in-law of Zein Isa, said he was distressed by the convictions.

''I think all the facts were not on the table for the jury in this case, '' he said.

The prosecution's most important evidence was a secretly made tape- recording of the murder. Seven minutes of it was filled with Tina's shrieks as she was being stabbed. Some jurors cried when the tape was played for them on Wednesday.

But they asked to hear the tape Friday for a second time, and sat grim-faced and alone in the locked courtroom, listening to the tape over headphones.

In her final argument to the jury, Joyce-Hayes said, ''I can't think of any other way to describe this incident other than as a blood sacrifice.''

She said the Isas believed the only way to ''cleanse'' the family was through Tina's blood. ''They assassinated her,'' the prosecutor said.

The prosecutor could not bring herself to call the heinous crime what it really was. An honor killing. And she even went so far as to claim it had nothing to do with Islam.

A 1993 Chicago Tribune article, A FAMILY TRAGEDY OR TERRORISTS' SCHEME?, uncovered the terrorist ties in the honor killing.

Again, this is the family of Rush Darwish - now running for a seat in the Unitied States Congress.

"Quiet, little one! Die quickly, my daughter, die!" Zein Isa said in Arabic. He stabbed her six times while his wife, Maria, held her by the hair.

"Mother! Please, help me!" Tina pleaded.

"What help?" Maria Isa replied.

As Tina lay dying, her father put his foot on her mouth to muffle the cries.

Jurors heard it all. An FBI bug picked up the parents' words and the daughter's screams. Zein Isa, the bureau explained, was suspected of working for the Palestine Liberation Organization, which at that time had not publicly disavowed terrorism.

Jurors were told that he, his wife and Tina's older sisters believed she had dishonored the family, going against Muslim tradition by having a boyfriend.

She dishonored the family. Her penalty was to be honor killed. But the FBI suggested she knew too much about her father’s involvement in an Islamic terror group for which he was later indicted.

The organization, a violent and nihilistic 1974 offshoot of the PLO, was labeled by the State Department in 1989 as the world's most dangerous terrorist group. It is responsible for more than 90 terrorist attacks in 20 countries, according to the department's annual assessment of terrorism.

A federal grand jury in April indicted Zein Isa, 61, already on Death Row for his daughter's murder; Saif Nijmeh, 33, of St. Louis; Luie Nijmeh, 29, of Miamisburg, Ohio; and Tawfiq Musa, 43, of Racine, Wis. All are in Missouri prisons awaiting trial.

The four are accused of a variety of acts under federal RICO (Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations) statutes: obtaining illegal weapons, such as a rocket-propelled grenade launcher; procuring and using bogus passports; illegally transferring money overseas; and conspiring to murder Tina Isa.

...

But reviews of tape-recorded conversations between Zein Isa and his daughters and their husbands also show that killing her to preserve the family honor was being discussed as early as August 1989.

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

While Rashad “Rush” Darwish was not involved in the honor killing of his aunt, he doesn’t stray far from his ‘Palestinian’ roots. He is adamantly anti-Israel, pro BDS, and he has the support of Hamas-linked CAIR.

Darwish has also campaigned with another name-changing ‘Palestinian’ grandson of an Islamic terrorist whom we posted on two days ago: Ammar Campa-Najjar.

When “Rush” still went by the name Rashad, he was a member of the notorious Hamas-funding Bridgeview Mosque.

The mosque hosted al-Qaeda’s spiritual leader and it’s terror ties were so well known that a bank shut the mosque’s account and refused to do business with them. The mosque was also linked to the largest terror-financing conviction in U.S. history.

What other skeletons are in Rush Darwish’s closet? The media won’t investigate.

Do Illinois voters really want to find out the hard way? Was the lesson of Barrack Hussein “Barry Soetero” Obama not enough? 

In less than ten days we’ll find out.

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

Update 1: Rashad Darwish lost, and Lost Big

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 80

Aging: Part 1

I will start with the cliche: “man is born, grows, ages, and finally dies.” So this cycle of life is inevitable, although at different times in history the speed of this process has varied tremendously. In early times, when there was purity in nature, it is narrated that Prophet Noah lived for 950 years. Whether other people at the time had that long a life span is not known for certain, but this suggests that human beings lived longer lives in earlier times. Later, at some point it was reduced to a mere 30 or 40, years due to wars and diseases like the plague. Nowadays, lifespan depends on the level of prosperity in a society, ranging from 33 in Zimbabwe, for example, to 80 in Sweden. But then, why bother to avoid or prolong a life whose end is inevitable, namely death? If you consider the time needed for a human to mature and be educated, you will see that these days, people are assumed to have gained experienced after the age 30, and that the longer they live, the more wisdom they can gain and impart and the more good deeds they can accomplish for this world and the Hereafter. So prolonging the life span is not just a decadent materialistic pursuit, rather it can actually bear beneficial fruit for humanity, both spiritually and materially.

However, as one’s age increases, most bodily functions peak and then start to diminish. A better aging strategy would be to age in the healthiest possible manner; i.e., keeping the physical and mental functions as sharp as possible, in particular the memory, so as not to lose human dignity in old age.

Aging and Memory

As one ages, reactions start to slow, the speed of understanding and the level of concentration diminish. The precipitous decline of dopamine-containing neurons in the human brain after age 45 is a universal characteristic of the aging process. The nigrostriatal region of the brain is richest in dopamine and undergoes the most rapid aging of any brain area. Age-associated depletion of dopamine also accounts for less noticeable symptoms, like a decline in physical drives and brain functions. These reactions are mostly on a mental or psychological level. In addition to these, wrinkles appear in the skin, hairs gray, and joints become gnarly. Perhaps, most important of all, is that according to recent research carried out on the brain, by the time most people hit 40, their brainpower starts to weaken. This does not mean that people become incompetent, just a bit slower in the cognitive process. This phenomenon is called “generalized slowing” by psychologists. According to James Birren, the Associate Director of the Center on Aging at the University of California, Los Angeles, the first signs of aging appear on tests used to measure mental speed and acuity, in which people count the number of lights flashed on a screen, for instance, or trace a complicated pattern while looking at a mirror.

“But eventually the down-turn affects almost everything we do,” says Birren, “From how fast we hit the breaks when a car pulls in front of us to how quickly we learn new skills on the job or remember old what’s-her-name’s name.”

Then the question is whether the slowing process is unavoidable. According to psychologist Robert Dustman, the answer to this is yes. One of the country’s top experts on aging and the brain, Dustman directs the Neuropsychology Research Laboratory at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Salt Lake City. He’s just turned 70 and shows no signs of slowing down himself. “It is true that when we compare 20-year-olds with 60-year olds on almost any test that measures the speed of information processing, younger people on average score significantly better than the older ones,” he says, “But that does not have to be. There is a simple way I can ward off the scourge of slowness,” Dustman says. And the way to do this is to stay in shape.

At first it seems to go against common sense that in some way a mindless act like jogging or striding around a park is relevant to the speed of thinking. But Dustman explains the connection in a very logical way.

Every cell in the body requires a continuous supply of oxygen and nutrients to function at its peak. But surprisingly, no cells need a greater oxygen supply than the gray matter that rests between our ears. The brain, although it makes up only 2% of our body weight, uses up 25% of the glucose and oxygen supply.

Now suppose a person slips out of shape, their heart gets lazy, the arteries get clogged, the blood flow to capillaries slows down, and the oxygen and nutrient supply to the brain falls us. As a result, neurons get less than they need to function properly, the electrical signals slow down, and hence the mind slows down. A recent study shows that blood pressure (or lack of it) is highly correlated to memory; so much so that, a reduction of it causes the memory to weaken.

But getting older does not mean that one must face a full-scale slowdown, Dustman says. The problem is that by 45, when the brain is quickly falling into decline, most of us neglect to perform the activities that keep the arteries open, the heart strong, and blood flowing; namely exercise. Dustman’s own studies suggest that working out might be an antidote. In one of his studies, he ran 60 male volunteers, half in their twenties, half in their sixties, through the standard mental tests. As expected, the younger group had higher mental speeds. But when Dustman looked closely at the older group, he noticed that the ones who were exercising or had remained active had a brain speed that was comparable to that of the younger set.

The tests included actions as simple as pushing a button each time an X appeared in a long string of O’s to memorizing numbers and symbols. “On many measures,” says Dustman “the older men in good condition scored just as well as men 30 and 40 years their junior.” In real life, that is, they could find a number in a phone book or remember that sensible is a synonym for rational.

When one exercise, in other words, the sections of the brain which control movement and balance are fired up, the electrical signals zap back and forth along the nerves from the brain to the muscles and tendons. The eyes, the inner ear, and other sensory nerves all roll into action. The benefits of these can be detected clearly in the brainwaves and electrical impulses recorded by researchers.

Indeed, in Dustman’s study, the older men who were still fit had surprisingly youthful-looking brain waves. They produced more alpha waves, a pattern associated with calmness under pressure, and had steeper peaks and valleys in waves, which signifies an ability to block out distractions. Furthermore, when subjected to a sudden flash of light or a sound blast, they were faster to produce a wave called P-300, which is associated with fast reactions. “People in good shape can really focus,” says Dustman. “They can pen a letter to a friend without the sound of children playing downstairs disturbing them. They can fill out tax forms correctly after reading the directions once.” For someone who’s out of shape, the news is grim. In addition to problems that range from overweight to heart disease and diabetes, the results of a sedentary life style, it turns out that the brain will very likely start to weaken as well. Still, Dustman is optimistic. He once encouraged 42 sedentary people over 55 to exercise (walking or jogging) three times a week. After four months, the aerobic capacity of the volunteers increased 25 % and they scored better on mental speed tests. In light of this study, Dustman thinks that even easy exercise, such as brisk walking can speed up the minds of people after years of inactivity. The time required varies, however. In similar studies, it took about a year to observe an increase in the speed of the brain.

But it is not time that is important here; the goal is rather not to lose brain capacity until a very old age. It would be better if one were always to keep in shape, as it is easier to keep something that works running than to start it up again once it has slowed down. “The real benefit seems to come from making a lifelong habit of staying active,” says Dustman.

It is better to maintain a regular routine of exercises than to start up new ones. Researchers at the University of Illinois compared middle-aged lab rats who padded daily on a running mill to rats who negotiated a complicated obstacle course of rope bridges and seesaws a few times a day. Predictably, both groups got more blood flowing to the brain. But the obstacle-mastering rats had 25% more hard-wired connections between neurons. Assuming the same is true for humans, then exercises which require more brain activity are potentially more rewarding.

Aging and Sleep

The obvious dangers of not getting enough sleep include mental fuzziness, an increased chance of accidents, illness, psychological problems, and decreased productivity at work or school. But Dr. Eve Van Cauter wrote in the prestigious medical journal Lancet that less sleep can actually speed the process of aging. In her informative study, young men who were allowed to sleep only 4 hours each night showed signs of aging in less than a week. Their glucose tolerance dropped considerably, and they started to release cortisol, the stress hormone, at a greater rate than normal.

Sleep offers the body an opportunity to heal and rebuild itself. Pro-sleep nutrients might help in this cause. For example, it has been shown that nutritional supplements containing zinc, magnesium, and pyridoxine (vitamin B6) , among other benefits, help sleep efficiency. A herbal amino acid 5-hydroxytryptophan is another promising sleep aid to use in times of extreme stress. Among sleep promoting herbs from traditional Chinese medicine are ziziphus spinosa (jujube), schisandra chinensis, and bupleurum chinense (Chinese thoroughwax). These herbs seem to relax the muscles and soothe the central nervous system. Sleep is and remains to be the most precious source of energy replenishment.

Melatonin: A God-given Sleeping Pill

Melatonin is a natural molecule made by the pineal gland, which is located in the brain. Melatonin is made from an amino acid called tryptophan. Tryptophan is an essential amino acid, that is, the body cannot make it; we need to get it from the foods we eat. Tryptophan is found in wide variety of foods. As we consume tryptophan during the day, the body converts it into serotonin, an important chemical for the brain that is involved with moods. Serotonin, in turn, is converted into melatonin. This conversion occurs most efficiently at nights.

Melatonin helps to set and control the internal clock that governs the natural rhythms of the body. Each night the pineal gland produces melatonin, which helps us to fall asleep. Research about this molecule has been going on since it was discovered at Yale University by Dr. Lerner in 1958, but recently there has been a great deal more attention being paid to melatonin. About a thousand articles on melatonin are published annually. One major reason is that scientists are discovering that melatonin is not only associated with deep sleep, but also with our hormonal, immune, and nervous systems. Research is accumulating about melatonin’s role as a powerful antioxidant, its possible anti-aging benefits, and its immune-enhancing properties.

Aging and Free Radicals

A free radical is a molecule that contains an unpaired electron through reactions with the essential element oxygen. These molecules “steal” electrons from nearby molecules to complete that final electron pair for stability. Then they are no longer free radicals, but they convert the new combined molecule into a new free radical. In a living organism, this process can cause a chain reaction of severe cellular damage, unless prevented.

The theory that free radicals are agents of bodily destruction is gaining widespread acceptance, as is the value of antioxidants in preventing such an occurrence.

According to the journal Annals of Clinical and Laboratory Science, the excess of free radicals in our body, i.e. “the domino effect”, is a critical factor in many health problems. An interesting and concerning fact about free radicals is that they cause the same reactions within the cells that occur during exposure to radiation. Free radicals released in the body destroy even proteins, the essential constituents of the body that regulate hormones and enzymes and that make up nerves, muscles, skin, and hair. It is usually suggested that antioxidants are used to fight these harmful free radicals. Fruits and vegetables are plentiful in vitamins A, C, and E, the key antioxidants. Polyphenols, which are found in grapes and green tea extracts are potent antioxidants. In fact, scientists have found out that procyanidins are the most promising polyphenols. In Japan, scientists have discovered that they may be 50 times more powerful than vitamins C and E in fighting free radicals. Alpha-lipoic acid, which is soluble in both water and lipids, can neutralize free radicals throughout the body. In fact, alpha-lipoic acid is involved in so many different antioxidant functions that it has been called the “universal antioxidant.” Citrus bioflavonoids and certain fruit and vegetable pigments are also strong free radical fighters.

Deprenyl: An Anti-aging Treatment?

Deprenyl (selegiline) provides selective protection against age-related degeneration of the dopamine nervous system. It is the only inhibitor used in clinical practice. The rate at which dopamine neurons age is quite variable. Before age 45, dopamine levels stay quite stable. Starting at 45, the decrease in average dopamine content in healthy people is linear, at 13% per decade. When it reaches 30%, the symptoms of Parkinson appear.

The sensitivity of the dopaminergic nervous system to oxidizing free radicals has been well established. The protective effect of deprenyl in lessening the neurotoxic effect of the oxidants (6-hydrpxydopa and 6-hydroxydopamine) appears to correlate with increased antioxidant enzyme levels. The increase in the antioxidant level is proportional to the deprenyl intake.

There as yet has been no definitive study of the long-term use of deprenyl in healthy people as a life-extension and cognitive-enhancing drug. But there has been extensive animal research. The lifespan of deprenyl-taking rats is significantly greater than normal rats, in fact, all the control rats died before the first deprenyl-taking rat died. Early research with deprenyl in humans (early-diagnosed Parkinson patients) shows delayed development of symptoms. Deprenyl has also been established as a treatment for Alzheimer’s disease. Eventually, deprenyl has the potential of becoming a general treatment for aging in people above the age of 45.

Conclusion

Although we know for sure that there cannot be an absolute cure for aging, the results of it can be slowed down considerably. Soundness and health of mind are desirable traits for all ages, not just for the elderly. After many years, many elderly people lose much of their memory and mental capacities; this occurs just at the time when they can pass on all their wisdom and experience to the younger generations. Hopefully, with the advent of science and technology, the deficiencies in the brain due to aging can be avoided to a certain extent. The solution lies in a balanced collaboration of modern medicine and traditional natural cures that have been practiced for centuries.

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