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drades-lair · 11 months ago

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Fixing Fizz

It wasn’t lost on Calus how often he was finding himself at Asmodeus’s palace, the prince of Lust calling on the Dracony more and more for things he needed handled. Tonight, the tone Asmodeus gave off said he had a bigger mission for Calus to take on which left the Dracony in an uneasy state namely because he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Calus~ nice to see you as usual,” Asmodeus chimed, emerging through the double ornate doors of his office.

“Always a pleasure,” Calus greeted in turn, walking past Asmodeus into his office.

“I know I’ve been asking a lot lately…I appreciate you indulging me,” Asmodeus stated, closing the office doors so as they’d not be interrupted.

“Not a problem, you’ve been paying me so it’s not like I’m not getting my worth,” Calus retorted with a chuckle, shrugging off his duster that he hung over the back of a high back chair before settling in it.

“Nonetheless…anyways, as you might have guessed I have something to ask of you once again,” Asmodeus chatted as he moved to the high back chair across from the one Calus sat down in, the flames of the fireplace flitting across the room.

“I assumed so, yes,” Calus huffed a laugh in turn as Asmodeus sat across from the Dracony.

“I’m not going to waste your time so let me just get right into it, you have healing abilities…could you…say, regrow a limb using them?” Asmodeus inquired appearing a little hesitant in his inquiries.

“Um…well, short answer would be yes…however, it’s not as simple as that. I regrew a hand on someone once, but it took a lot out of me to do it,” Calus responded, arching a brow in suspicious curiosity.

“Alright, here’s the deal, mine and Fizz’s anniversary is coming up…I was hoping to do something unique…personal for him this year,” Asmodeus began to explain.

“And…where do I come in?” Calus wondered, turning his arched brow into a furrow.

“I was hoping that your abilities would allow you to regrow Fizz’s limbs,” Asmodeus bluntly stated, taking Calus off guard.

“Oh…wow…um…okay, that’s an entirely different ball of wax. Where to begin? First, I’ve not regrown entire limbs before using my abilities and even the hand I spoke about had leftover bone to work with not just gone. Second, the amount of time it’ll take to accomplish something like that would be…a year maybe more because I’d have to do segments… if at all,” Calus began to explain, tone slightly exasperated at the very thought.

“Time isn’t an issue, I’m sure Fizz would be fine with any amount of time it would take,” Asmodeus assured Calus.

“It’s not just time Asmodeus…in between segments Fizz will be in immense pain, I’m not just growing flesh and bone…it’s tendons and nerves and once again that’s if I can muster the strength to do it,” Calus continued to explain.

“I see…there’s no way you can do it in one session?” Asmodeus asked, face dropping at the realization.

“I don’t think so…I can do a lot with my abilities but…I can only do so much,” Calus reiterated, a look of sympathy crossing his features.

"I understand...and you're certain Fizzy would suffer intense pain?" Asmodeus checked.

"Yes, no matter what is given for the pain Fizz would still suffer some form of pain, I morally don't want to put him through that," Calus finished.

"Alright, Alright, I get it. Guess I'll go to plan B for a gift. Thank you for indulging me, Calus, and I'm sorry for wasting your time," Asmodeus relented, offering an understanding smile.

"Not a problem, sorry I couldn't help," Calus retorted as they both stood up, Calus grabbing his duster from the chair before heading towards the door with Asmodeus.

The two bid a thoughtful fair well then Calus left, little did he know this wasn't over. Later that evening Fizz returned to the palace to find Asmodeus had set up a romantic evening of wining and dinning. All in all, the evening was amazing as usual however upon returning to the bedroom Fizzarolli remembered he forgot to drop off a manifest from his recent outing to Ozzie's office. Slipping into the office on the way to the bedroom Fizz went straight to the desk where he placed the manifest on the large desks surface resulting in him accidently shuffling some papers around revealing a contract he'd not seen before, pulling the contract out Fizz read through it, eyes growing wide in shock at its contents. Written on the paper was an agreement that Asmodeus would pay a large sum of money along with supply goods to Calus should he agree and accomplish the task of regrowing Fizz's missing limbs. Fizz's heart pounded with disbelieving excitement, was there really a chance to get his arms and legs back? Continuing down the contract Fizz eventually reached the bottom where his heart dropped upon seeing that under Asmodeus's signature it said request refused. Why would Calus refuse? Fizzarolli wondered in his mind after all the Dracony always seemed like a good guy. Glancing around Fizz placed the contract on Asmodeus's desk but located the original on his computer and printed a copy that Fizz then folded to place in his pocket before continuing to the master bedroom where Ozzie was waiting for him.

…

Striker yawned in the process of making his way into the kitchen of the penthouse, stretching over his head. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard he started making a coffee just as Calus strode into the kitchen, coming up behind the imp to place his hands on his hips. Striker threw a sleepy smile over his shoulder at the Dracony before they shared a gentle kiss.

"Sleep well?" Calus inquired, grabbing his own mug.

"Yeah, for the most part," Striker responded.

"Glad to hear it, hmm?" Calus began to respond when the doorbell sounded causing him to glance towards the front door.

"Expectin' someone?" Striker wondered following Calus' gaze.

"No, I'll be back," Calus stated heading towards the front door.

Calus moved to the small white box on the wall next to the door, pressing the button to respond to the bell.

"Hello?" Calus asked into the speaker of the box.

"Um...hi, it's Fizzarolli, may I come up?" Fizz's voice asked over the call box.

"Oh, hello Fizzarolli. Yes, of course you can come up, one moment," Calus assured the imp. Pressing another button, waiting until the elevator light on the white box turned green indicating it would allow Fizz to come up to the penthouse suite. Sure enough after a few minutes there was a knock at the door prompting Calus to answer it.

"Hi Calus, sorry to interrupt your morning like this," Fizz stated as Calus opened the door.

"It's no problem, come on in," Calus acknowledged guiding Fizz inside before shutting the door behind him.

"Thanks, oh! Hi Striker," Fizz waved with a slight blush on his face upon noticing the pale imp standing partially naked in the kitchen making coffee.

"Hey Ya clown," Striker acknowledged, stirring his coffee.

"Um, I was hoping to talk to you about something Calus...alone," Fizz stated turning his attention to Calus who was working his way back into the kitchen.

"Alright...we can go to my office in a minute, would you like a coffee?" Calus offered.

"Sure," Fizz accepted.

Once Calus got them both a coffee, he showed Fizz to his office which was across from the staircase leading up to the pool behind the living area. After they were inside with the door closed Calus sat behind his dark wooden desk while Fizz took a seat in a high back chair on the opposite side. Calus casually sat back with a small huff as Fizz nervously toyed with the coffee in his hands.

"So... what’s this about?" Calus inquired casually taking a sip of his coffee.

"Well...it's about this," Fizz nervously stated, setting his coffee on the desk before pulling the contract from his pocket, unfolding it to place on the desk in front of Calus. Arching a brow curiously Calus set his mug down to pick up the paper, giving it a once over causing his brow to slowly furrow.

"Asmodeus showed you this?" Calus questioned, peering over the top of the paper.

"N-No, I found it last night while I was placing something else on his desk," Fizz explained. Calus pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh before placing the contract on his desk again.

"Look Fizz, I know how it sounds but as I discussed with Asmodeus, I'm not morally comfortable performing the procedure on you and that's if I even have the capability of doing it in the first place," Calus briefly explained.

"What do you mean?" Fizz wondered furrowing his brow.

"Fizz, my healing abilities are powerful but performing something as intricate and lengthy as regrowing a limb will take a lot of energy...I'm not certain I have that sort of power in me and even if I did the amount of pain, it would cause you upon waking from the procedure would be...beyond excruciating," Calus explained further.

"Oh please, I was blown up for fucks sake, I'm sure I can handle any amount of pain and how do you know you can't? Have you ever tried?" Fizz shot back waving a dismissive hand at Calus' concern.

"I did regrow a hand once but Fizz we're talking about an entire limb with nothing to start with! I will need to extend the bone from your shoulder to rebuild and that's only after the robotic mechanisms were removed," Calus continued to explain.

"Then you can do it!" Fizz exclaimed seemingly ignoring everything Calus just said.

"Fizz, did you hear anything I just said?" Calus asked.

"I did! I don't care how much pain it causes me or how long it takes, I want you to do this for me! Please!" Fizz insisted slamming a fist on Calus' desk.

"Fizzarolli! For the last time, I won't put you or myself through that," Calus shot back getting an edge to his tone as he sat forwards. For a long moment, they simply stared at one another till eventually Fizz let out a deep sigh, gaze averting to the side.

"I didn't want to do this...but you leave me no choice. I need this...it's the one chance I have to get something back. If you don't agree to do this Calus...I'll expose Striker," Fizz stated, tone deepening to a threatening level.

"What did you just say?" Calus practically snarled, standing up to place both palms on the desk as he slightly leaned Fizz's way.

"You heard me, you have the protection of being royal blooded, but Striker is a wanted fugitive with a lot of enemies...and I have contacts, connections to expose him with," Fizz explained holding his ground as he met Calus’ gaze.

"Threats, blackmail...seriously Fizzarolli?" Calus retorted in a slightly disbelieving tone.

"If that's what it takes...I need this...now sign the contract," Fizz insisted pushing the contract towards Calus who stared for a moment at it. Eventually releasing a breath Calus reluctantly relented, opening a drawer to pull out a pen that he promptly used to sign the contract. Fizz's body relaxed as his face lit up in excitement, the two working out details on when, where, and how this was going to happen afterwards despite Calus’ continued displeasure towards the whole thing.

Calus called Asmodeus to inform the sin he'd changed his mind as well as tell him the procedure would take place in the king of lust’s palace infirmary one week from that day. Asmodeus was thrilled to hear it stating he'd tell Fizz when he returned as he was unaware Fizz was sitting with Calus at that very moment. Calus informed both Fizz and Asmodeus that he'd get Stolas to assist as the prince had a way with politics and herbal remedies for pain. Once everything was settled Fizz left Calus' penthouse. Calus released an exhausted sigh as he sat down next to Striker who eyed his mate suspiciously. Calus gave Striker a false reassuring smile that apparently worked because the imp returned to watching TV, leaving Calus to worry silently about what was to come…this whole thing wasn't going to end well.

…

One-week later Calus made his way to Asmodeus’ palace, moving straight to the basement where the infirmary was located. Fizz sat waiting on the treatment table clad in a pair of black shorts to keep his torso naked, the plan was to do his left arm this time thus Asmodeus was preparing to remove the mechanical attachments he’d originally installed once Fizz was put under then Calus would come in immediately afterwards to start regrowing the limb. Stolas was also present, busily preparing his various potions although he looked uncertain, Calus hang his duster up on a coat rack near the door, a pensive expression upon his features.

“Now, you’re certain you want this Fizzy Frog? I-I don’t like the idea of you being in pain,” Asmodeus asked, tone thick with concern.

“Yes, Ozz, I want this…I need this…I lost so much in that fire…” Fizz assured Asmodeus, hanging his head towards the end as he stared at his mechanical hand.

“Alright, as long as you’re prepared,” Asmodeus stated, continuing to get things prepared.

“Calus, might I have a word?” Stolas inquired walking up to the Dracony while Asmodeus was distracted by Fizz.

“Sure,” Calus agreed, walking with Stolas out of the infirmary to the hallway.

“Calus, are you certain about this?” Stolas asked once they were alone in the hallway, expression one of concern.

“Yes, we’ll get this over with hopefully in two sessions,” Calus flatly stated, attempting to hide his uncertainties behind his usual confident stoic nature.

“Hmm, shouldn’t you take at least a day in between to rest?” Stolas wondered, his look of concern knitting its way deeper onto his features.

“I’ll be fine,” Calus once again flatly stated, grabbing the door handle to return into the infirmary.

“Are we ready to begin?” Asmodeus asked once Calus returned.

“Yeah, let’s get this going,” Calus confirmed with Stolas following behind him.

Stolas grabbed a bottle that he handed to Fizz with the instruction to drink the whole thing which he did with a gagging noise. Taking back the bottle Stolas gestured for Fizz to lay down on the treatment table which again he obeyed, there was already an IV hooked up to Fizz’s collar bone along with monitors that gave off steady beeping noises. Stolas injected a substance into the IV line that moments later resulted in Fizz falling asleep promptly allowing Asmodeus to start his portion of the procedure while Calus waited in the wings, grimacing at this entire concept, however if it meant protecting Striker then so be it. They’d started early in the morning however by the time Calus was able to step in for his part it was early afternoon, at first Calus easily rebuilt Fizz’s limb but, as he neared Fizz’s elbow area which was the finishing spot for the day he was beginning to struggle. Finishing the procedure in the late evening, Calus pulled his hands from Fizz’s arm after making certain to seal the end, panting slightly with sweat trickling down his temples and his legs shook slightly causing him to hold onto the table for a moment before managing the strength to head for the infirmary doors.

“Calus? Are you alright?” Stolas asked after the Dracony as Asmodeus moved to bandage Fizz’s new limb.

“I’m fine…I just need to rest before tomorrow’s session,” Calus responded, putting on a façade of confidence, managing a small reassuring smile over his shoulder before leaving the infirmary.

“Hmm,” Stolas could tell something was up with Calus however if the Dracony wasn’t willing to tell him then there was nothing he could do for him other then what he was brought to Asmodeus’ palace to do. Turning around he moved to assist Asmodeus with Fizz’s aftercare.

…

The instant Calus was in his guest room he plopped onto the bed and passed out; his energy had been drained significantly as he’d predicted. Ideally Stolas was correct, Calus should take a day or two between sessions to recover unfortunately knowing the pain that the procedure was going to cause to Fizz… he had no choice but to do them back-to-back. The next morning Calus drug himself into the infirmary where Fizz was waiting although he looked absolutely wrecked, wreathing in pain on the table as Asmodeus tried to tend him with concern on his face.

“Rough night?” Calus inquired.

“Yes, the potions didn’t work really well,” Stolas informed Calus.

“As I figured…the quicker we get this finished the quicker he’ll find ease,” Calus stated, wearily moving towards the treatment table.

With that statement Stolas proceeded to put Fizz back asleep promptly allowing the Dracony to immediately start the second session however all too quickly it became clear that ten hours of rest wasn’t enough to recharge Calus’ strength even remotely. Calus’ vision began to blur causing him to shake his head in hopes of clearing it away, his hands began to shake as well till eventually the bluish glow faded from under his hands and he swayed before grabbing the tables edge to stabilize himself. Stolas immediately ran to Calus’ side, placing a hand on the Dracony’s shoulder as Calus brought a hand over half his face, panting heavily while a trickle of blood trailed from his nose.

“Calus!? Are you alright?” Stolas asked in alarm.

“I…I can’t finish it…not today…I…I need to sit down…” Calus stammered, staggering away from the treatment table.

“Asmodeus, stitch up Fizzarolli’s wound while I take care of Calus,” Stolas instructed earning him a nod of understanding from Asmodeus.

Calus made it a mere two steps from the treatment table before his leg’s gave way sending him towards the ground. Stolas cursed under his breath as Calus hit the floor unconscious, he was barely breathing, pulse weak, Calus had pushed himself beyond his limits which could spell death for the Dracony. Stolas worked to stabilize Calus as much as possible on the floor till Asmodeus was able to help him move the Dracony to one of the recovery beds across the room, stripping him of his shirt to allow for easier treatment…what little they could provide. Calus was beyond exhausted having pushed himself past his limits which for a Dracony was dangerous considering their magic came from their soul unlike others like Stolas or Asmodeus who pull from the environment of hell itself as well as their individual specializations. Short of giving Calus some life support there was little that could be done all Stolas could hope for was that Calus could rest and regain his strength. Sighing heavily Stolas took out his phone in preparation to call Striker to inform him of what happened unaware the imp wasn’t informed of everything regarding the situation. Striker was understandably upset declaring he was on the way immediately leaving Stolas nothing further to do except help Asmodeus tend to Fizz while they wait.

…

A couple hours later Striker arrived at Asmodeus’s palace, fuming as he stormed to the infirmary promptly flinging the doors open upon arriving.

“Where the fuck is he!?” Striker exclaimed causing Stolas and Asmodeus to jerk towards the infirmary doors.

“Take it easy Striker,” Stolas gently tried to calm the imp, moving closer to him with his hands raised in a submissive manner.

“Take it easy my fuckin’ ass! What happened?” Striker barked.

“Calus overexerted himself and collapsed…he’s over there,” Stolas explained, gesturing towards the left side of the room where a series of recovery beds were lined up against the wall with partitions separating them and one that wrapped around the entire bed. Through the partitions thin cloth Striker could make out a figure on the bed.

Striker’s expression immediately shifted to concern as he rushed towards the bed in question, moving around the partition where he stopped short upon seeing Calus. Striker tried to draw breath into his lungs, but they refused to accept the gesture, his mate lay on the stark white bed with a mask over his face providing oxygen, an IV line in one arm and a series of monitors that set Striker’s anxiety a blaze.

“Is he gonna be alright?” Striker asked in a quiet tone, a hand reaching out to gently lay on Calus’s shoulder.

“Depends…when Dracony use their abilities it’s not like traditional magic, it comes directly from their souls. All we can do is wait to see if his soul can recover from such a severe drain,” Stolas explained with a look of sympathy upon his features.

“Why would he do this? Surely Calus knew,” Striker questioned, brow furrowing as he looked over Calus.

“I’m not certain, something seemed…off, before we started the procedure,” Stolas admitted.

“So, where’s the clown?” Striker wondered noticing Fizz was no where in the room.

“He was taken to their private quarters so Asmodeus could easily help him through recovery while I remained to take care of Calus,” Stolas explained.

“Humph, Ya mean so I didn’t rip him a new one,” Striker corrected with a small snarl.

“That was a secondary reason,” Stolas admitted with a little chuckle.

…

Meanwhile up in the private master suite Fizz started to come around only to be surprised at having no hand yet, the pain was still intense however it seemed to have eased up a bit now that he had more of his arm back. Asmodeus comforted the imp as he managed to sit up with a pained groan.

“Why…why don’t I have a hand yet?” Fizz wondered.

“There was…complications, Fizz, Calus collapsed and is now unconscious in the infirmary,” Asmodeus informed the imp who suddenly grew quiet with a shocked look on his features. Fizz recalled in that moment what Calus had tried to tell him about potentially not having the ability to complete the procedures.

“Is…he, okay?” Fizz wondered, hanging his head slightly upon realizing this was more then likely his fault.

“We’re not certain, he’s not doing well at the moment,” Asmodeus answered causing Fizz’s expression to drop even further as he realized his tunnel vision might have gotten Calus seriously hurt.

“Shit, Ozzie…I have to tell you something,” Fizz stated, tone hesitant.

“Hmm? What is it Fizzy Frog?” Asmodeus asked in turn, arching a brow in confusion.

Fizzarolli went about explaining everything that took place between the imp and Calus over a week ago including how he blackmailed Calus with Striker. Asmodeus listen tentatively to Fizz’s story, eyes growing wide with realization and shock.

“Fizz…why would you...?” Asmodeus stammered for a moment once the imp went silent.

“Because Oz…I lost so much in that fire…this was my one chance to get just a little of it back, but I didn’t listen to Calus, I got too hyper focused on my own selfish reasons,” Fizz continued, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he gave a small sniffle.

“Okay, okay, do you still have the contract?” Asmodeus inquired.

“Yeah, it’s in my safe,” Fizz stated pointing to his little safe under his vanity across the master bedroom.

Asmodeus went to the safe, punching in the code to open it allowing the sin to retrieve the contract which he quickly looked over before releasing a relieved sigh.

“You never got my physical signature on this,” Asmodeus pointed out.

“No, I thought the digital one was enough,” Fizz retorted with a confused furrow of his brow.

“No Fizzy, my digital signature can stand in temporarily, but I must physically sign for a contract to be binding. This is a good thing though as it means Calus is under no obligation,” Asmodeus explained.

“That’s good…I mean it, but…do you think he’d be able to eventually finish just this arm?” Fizz wondered looking honestly relieved to hear he’d not locked Calus into this.

“I’m…not sure…first he needs to recover,” Asmodeus reminded Fizz, who gave a small understanding nod.

“In the meantime, you’ll stay in here, Striker is in the infirmary with Calus and from what I understand he is…unimpressed to say the least,” Asmodeus informed Fizz causing the imp to swallow hard.

…

One week after everything went to shit Striker sat on the medical bed beside the one Calus was laying on, flipping through his phone with one eye continuously on Calus. The sound of the double ornate doors to the infirmary opening catching his attention momentarily, revealing Fizz entering through them with a sorrowful look upon his features. Striker had one leg crooked upwards that he draped the arm that was holding his phone over, scowling at the clown imp as he approached even starting to subtly rattle his tail the closer Fizz got. Fizz swallowed around the lump in his throat, despite Striker not having his signature hat nor jacket on he still somehow looked intimidating, glowing yellow eyes narrowing towards the other imp.

“How is Calus?” Fizz hesitantly asked stopping at the foot of Calus’ bed.

“Humph, still unconscious and weak,” Striker retorted, glancing over at his mate briefly before returning his disgruntled gaze to Fizz.

“I- I came to apologize, I’m so sorry for what happened to Calus…this is all my fault,” Fizz apologized, hanging his head, averting his gaze from Striker’s intense one.

“I appreciate the apology but, as much as I’d like ta blame Ya for all this… in the end Calus agreed ta do it,” Striker stated with a growl that faded into a small sigh.

“You don’t understand…it IS all my fault, you see I…” Fizz began explaining what he’d done to Striker whose tail began to rattle ferociously as he clenched his claws and clenched his teeth in anger.

“Ya did what!?” Striker exclaimed, snarling in anger as he stood from where he was sitting with hands clenching into fists.

“Like I said I’m really, really sorry…I don’t expect you to forgive me or anything…AH!” Fizz exclaimed as he hit the ground, Striker looming over top of him with a death grip on the other imp’s arms.

“You little attention whore! How fuckin’ dare Ya!?” Striker growled out, grip getting tighter causing Fizz to whimper.

“I-I’m sorry…” Fizz apologized again, looking away.

“S-Striker…” Calus’ quiet tone drew both imp’s attention instantly however it caused Striker’s demeanour to change as if someone flipped a switch.

“Calus!?” Striker exclaimed, abandoning Fizz on the floor to immediately run to Calus’ side, one hand landing on the Dracony’s shoulder. Calus shifted his head to the side to look at Striker with a small acknowledging smile on his face.

“H-how long have I been out?” Calus wondered, clearing his throat a bit.

“Over a week, try ta rest,” Striker encouraged, tone gentle.

“A week…shit…” Calus breathed out, seeming to struggle with each word.

“It’s fine, I’m just glad Yer awake,” Striker stated returning the smile till that is Fizz managed to stand back up, entering Calus’ line of sight.

“Fizz…?” Calus questioned moments before Striker snarled.

“Get out!” Striker exclaimed in a low possessive growl.

Fizz took the warning to heart, backing up slowly till he could leave the infirmary while Striker continued to hiss with his tail rattling when a gentle hand cupped his cheek. Striker jerked slightly in surprise, looking down at Calus and instantly settling as his expression softened.

“Hush Striker…what did I miss?” Calus encouraged.

“Fizz told me everythin’…what he made Ya do...,” Striker briefly explained, tone growing more aggravated by the second.

“Hmm…he did, did he…then you know I’m bound by contract to full fill the procedure…I just…don’t know when I’ll be able to try again,” Calus admitted, rubbing Striker’s cheek with his thumb.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about that right now…just…get better…” Striker insisted, placing his hand over Calus’, brow furrowing upwards in a combination of relief and concern.

Calus continued to nap on and off for the rest of the day, waking from one just as Asmodeus was walking into the infirmary with Stolas.

“Good to see you’re awake Calus,” Stolas stated walking over to the Dracony’s bedside while Striker kept an eye on them from the other bed, his possessive protective nature running in overdrive by this point.

“Hmm, I’m sorry I couldn’t finish the procedure Oz…once I’m able too I’ll finish it,” Calus stated with a groan as he attempted to sit up.

“Nah, Calus! Don’t!” Striker exclaimed, beginning to move off the bed only to stop when Asmodeus beat him to it.

“Relax…there’s no need, if you feel capable and wish too then you can however the contract is nonbinding,” Asmodeus assured Calus resulting in a stunned expression to cross the Dracony’s face as the Lustful sin gently laid a hand on his shoulder to encourage him to remain laying down.

“What do you mean? I signed a contract agreeing to do this…” Calus reiterated, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“The contract wasn’t properly signed by me thus you have no obligation,” Asmodeus reassured the Dracony.

“Really? Well, that’s good…what about Striker? I’m going to take it Fizz told you everything,” Calus inquired, concern seeping its way into his tone.

“No harm will come to either of you and yes, me and Fizzy had a long conversation about all this…for what it’s worth I’m sorry this happened,” Asmodeus offered, glancing over at Striker momentarily.

“That’s good, I appreciate the…apology,” Calus stated, voice growing weary as he laid back allowing Stolas to check a few things.

“Alright, you should get some more rest I’ll return later to check again on you,” Stolas stated with a nod which Calus returned.

Calus didn’t fight Stolas on the suggestion simply allowing himself to fall back asleep, mind too exhausted to stay awake any longer. Fizz opted to avoid the infirmary or more accurately avoided Striker for the rest of the time he was in the palace waiting for Calus to recuperate, a three-week process that barely saw the Dracony back on his feet. The duo managed to leave the palace unfortunately Calus couldn’t return to work for a further two weeks when he started feeling remotely like himself again. Much to Striker’s displeasure after six long months of recovering Calus did return to Asmodeus’ palace to complete the regrowth of Fizz’s left limb, afterwards making it perfectly clear he’d be unable to do any more. Fizz was grateful to have at least one of his arms back assuring Calus he’d not be calling on him to do anything further much to everyone’s relief.

#Drama #Angst #Humor #Adventure #HelluvaBoss #HelluvaBoss Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Ozzie #Fizzarolli #Striker #Original Male Character #Fizzarozzie #Stolas #Striker x Original Character

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trialbymagicks · 1 year ago

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Revisiting Hidden Expedition: Titanic (2006) [PC, Steam]

Valentine's Day is about self-love too, so I'm treating myself by revisiting the beloved Hidden Expedition series of hidden object games from my childhood, starting with Hidden Expedition: Titanic! 💘

Plot

The Hidden Expedition Adventure League (H.E.A.L.) has received word that the Queen’s crown rests in the wreckage of the RMS Titanic and they are enlisting the help of the most daring treasure hunter they know to retrieve it. So, it’s up to you to dive into the remains of the sunken ship and salvage as many antique artifacts as you can for the Titanic Museum Foundation during your search. How nice of them to pay you for your trouble with as many gems as you can carry!

Introduction

On July 19, 2006, Big Fish Games launched Hidden Expedition: Titanic for Windows and this charming hidden object game quickly found a resting place in the hearts of its players.

I have very fond memories of playing it on an old secondhand laptop late at night, fascinated by the chilling atmosphere and the concept of unraveling mysteries from a long-lost past. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to finish it, so for over a decade my mind was filled with burning questions about what treasure awaited me at the end. It wasn’t until the hidden object bug bit me again back in 2019, bringing that memory back into the forefront of my mind, that I learned that this simple game about a famous sunken ship had become the flagship for an entire series. So, I scoured the internet for this beloved relic of my past and, when I finally realized that Titanic was on Steam alongside a handful of other games from the series, it felt like the catharsis I’d been waiting for.

Some reviews on the store page addressed a concern about the game not opening to full screen, which initially worried me. Would I have to manually adjust my screen resolution in order to play it or would I simply not be able to play it at all due to the objects being too small to see? As it turned out, I never encountered either problem – even running it on a Windows 10 system – so it’s possible that that aspect of the Steam port was fixed.

Fair warning: Upon first startup, you are required to grant the program permission to make changes to your computer. This appears to be what allows it to change its resolution and open to full screen, but if that makes you uncomfortable, you may want to pass on picking it up because the game will not run if you don’t give it permission. You can, of course, choose to play the game in windowed mode later on if that is a more comfortable fit for you.

Whatever the case, I am grateful that my experience playing Titanic now was just as I remembered back when it first came out. Having sparked a love of hidden object games within me, this is the game that instantly comes to mind as the primary example whenever I think of the genre.

Review

As the first game in the series, Hidden Expedition: Titanic may not possess the larger than life cast of characters, grand sweeping story arcs, arsenal of brain-teasing puzzles, and fully voiced cutscenes of later installments, but it is a charming example of what a hidden object game is at its heart.

The gameplay is intuitive and the rules are simple to grasp:

Complete all scenes (plus bonus round) in each dive to move on to the next dive.

Each dive is timed, allotting a certain number of minutes to complete.

Find all hidden objects in each scene before the timer or oxygen level runs out.

Clicking on the wrong object uses up oxygen.

A small amount of oxygen can be replenished by finding the hidden oxygen tank in each dive.

Bonus: Challenge yourself to find all 5 gems in each scene.

The nonintrusive plot offers a humble explanation for the underwater Titanic theme and a reason to play as an explorer embarking on this dive – the promise of a secret treasure at the end and the reward of knowing you found it – which it gracefully follows through on.

The simple melody that greets the player on the opening menu sounds like a promise of adventure and the eerie repeating tune that plays during dives provides a mysterious atmosphere of wonder as well as urgency the lower the oxygen level gets. Of course, there is also a collection of Titanic facts to discover for anyone who may find themselves hungry for knowledge about the topic.

What really tripped me up as a kid was the fact that I had never seen nor heard of a lot of the antique objects on the item lists, so I wasn’t sure what to look for and usually ended up clicking around aimlessly and running out of oxygen once I had found everything I recognized. Even the hint system, which will show you where a random object is, uses up oxygen per hint!

Replaying the game as an adult was remarkably less stressful. I’m sure this is because I have learned more since then and am also much better at guessing what an object’s purpose is by its name, which makes them infinitely easier to spot in the scene. There are also plenty of occasions where it helps to know that a word could represent multiple images (for example: bat, pipe, fork, spade, plane, note, and compass), so don’t be afraid to utilize that pause button and a thesaurus if you need to!

At the end of each dive, there is a bonus puzzle to solve. The player will have to either restore an old photograph by putting its pieces together in the right order or locate a collection of silhouetted items based on a fictional passenger’s profile, no more no less.

Be aware that the final mini game before the game’s conclusion takes a surprisingly different approach!

For me, it was a little confusing at first. I failed a few times and was forced to redo the final dive after every failure in order to try again.

But that’s what I get for not paying attention! If I had taken my time, I might have realized that I wasn’t supposed to guess the numbers by clicking on random items and hoping for a clue. Instead, the numbers that appear on the combination are the hints for each object I was supposed to find. This experience did teach me that the numbers are completely random for each attempt, just like how the item lists for each scene are randomized.

Note that, to complete a dive, you must fully explore all 2 or 3 scenes labeled on the blueprint of the ship and the bonus puzzle at the end. There is no way to save your progress in the middle of a dive, so if you return to the menu or exit the game before completing it, the game will require you to complete all scenes of that dive again when you re-enter.

But this does also mean you will get new item lists when you replay the scenes, so the replay value of the game in general is pretty solid! If you were interested in farming gems this way to increase the number displayed on your certificate when you complete the game (since there appears to be no other purpose for them), you could choose to take advantage of that feature rather than rushing through the game.

Overall, this game is great for anyone looking for a simple (and lightheartedly gimmicky) hidden object experience!

The Story So Far...

While Hidden Expedition: Titanic provides little establishing lore for what would become a series set in an alternate timeline version of reality and begs us not to throw our suspension of disbelief out the window, there is still a tasty chunk of information to read into. So, let me gently take you by the hand and guide you on this journey into the great unknown…

The player character, henceforth referred to as Eris for reasons that will soon become clear, starts out as a (morally questionable) treasure-hunter-for-hire who comes highly recommended by the Hidden Expedition Adventure League (H.E.A.L.) as someone who would “appreciate embarking on [the] grand, yet perilous adventure” into the wreckage of the RMS Titanic on behalf of the Titanic Museum Foundation. Does Eris work for H.E.A.L. as an agent or just a contact? We have yet to know!

Regardless, Eris’ goal is to retrieve an unspecified number of artifacts – namely the Queen’s crown, which had been on its way to a New York exhibition at the time of the ship’s tragic first voyage – and how do you suppose the museum plans to pay for this life-threatening mission? Not with a guaranteed lump sum of money, but rather with as many gems as Eris can salvage from the wreckage themself! Of course, these gems aren’t the priority of this mission, but they’re Eris’ to keep if they can find any before running out of oxygen.

That’s not even addressing the fact that the Titanic Museum Foundation somehow expects its hired hand to swim into the wreck with nothing but scuba gear for protection against implosion-inducing pressure at 12,600 feet below sea level. Either H.E.A.L. is leaps and bounds ahead of society’s technological advancements in underwater exploration or this character is indestructible.

Oh, and another little detail that Director J. Narl Spurdly doesn’t share with Eris before sending them into the depths is that, if they happen to run out of oxygen before finding all of the artifacts on the museum’s list… the Foundation isn’t reeling them back in. Totally not morbid at all! Game mechanics aside, it’s more likely implied that they do let the player character return to safety with whatever had been salvaged in the given amount of time, but they are inevitably sent back out with a new list and renewed oxygen for another attempt.

Evidently, the chance to see the wreck up close must have been too tempting for the immortal Eris to refuse because they agree. It is at this point that I must wonder if the random Titanic facts that appear on screen during dives are meant to represent 1) the Titanic Museum representatives sharing information with them or 2) the notion that the player character is a trivia lover who is reflecting on their knowledge as a distraction from the very likely possibility of a nightmarish death before drowning. Either way, the crown is recovered, Eris is presumably a hefty pile of gems richer, and the Titanic Museum Foundation has bragging rights.

But of course staring down the face of imminent death beneath the sea for the hubris of a vain humanity wouldn’t be enough to satisfy this adrenaline junkie – because the next time the H.E. challenge comes calling, Eris is ready to set their sights on a much grander prize at Mt. Everest’s summit.

Resources

Screenshots are a mix of my own and from Neoseeker’s gallery.

For more information on the series, check out the Hidden Expedition Wikipedia page, the Big Fish Games Hidden Expedition Website, and the Hidden Expedition TV Tropes page.

Note: This article was originally posted on WordPress on February 14, 2023.

#Hidden Expedition #Hidden Expedition Titanic #Big Fish Games #hidden object games #games #posts on trial

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dankusner · 29 days ago

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Lorne Michaels Is the Real Star of “Saturday Night Live”

He’s ruled with absolute power for five decades, forever adding to his list of oracular pronouncements—about producing TV, making comedy, and living the good life.

Every week at “Saturday Night Live” is just like every other week.

The weeks are the same because they’re always fuelled by hard work, filled with triumphs and failures and backstage arguments, and built around a guest host—Jennifer Lopez, Lizzo, Elon Musk—who often has no idea what he or she is doing.

Over the past fifty years, the job of Lorne Michaels, the show’s creator, has been to make the stars look good, and to corral the egos and talents on his staff in order to get the program on the air, live.

Since the début of “S.N.L.,” in 1975, he has fine-tuned the process, paying attention to shifting cultural winds.

What began as an avant-garde variety show has become mainstream.

(Amy Poehler has characterized the institution that made her famous as “the show your parents used to have sex to that you now watch from your computer in the middle of the day.”)

But the formula is essentially unchanged.

Michaels compares the show to a Snickers bar: people expect a certain amount of peanuts, a certain amount of caramel, and a certain amount of chocolate.

“There’s a comfort level,” he says.

The show has good years and bad, like the New York Yankees, or the Dow, and the audience has come to feel something like ownership over it.

Just about all viewers of “S.N.L.” believe that its funniest years were the ones when they were in high school.

Michaels likes to say that people in the entertainment business have two jobs: their actual job and figuring out how to fix “S.N.L.”

(When J. D. Salinger died, in 2010, letters surfaced in which even he griped about what was wrong with the show.)

Cast members and writers have speculated for years about the secret behind Michaels’s extraordinary tenure.

“It’s him and Hitchcock,” John Mulaney told me.

“No one else has had this kind of longevity.”

Half of them think that Michaels has repeatedly been able to remake the show for a new audience because he’s a once-in-a-lifetime talent, a producer nonpareil.

The other half wonder whether Michaels, gnomic and almost comically elusive, is a blank screen onto which they’ve all projected their hopes and fears and dark jokes—whether he, like the cramped stages in “S.N.L.” ’s Studio 8H, is just a backdrop for the ever-shifting brilliance of the country’s best comic minds.

The kickoff to every episode, the weekly Writers’ Meeting, is at 6 P.M. on Monday, on the seventeenth floor of 30 Rockefeller Plaza, in Michaels’s Art Deco office, which overlooks the skating rink.

Monday, Michaels says, is “a day of redemption,” a fresh start after spending Sunday brooding over Saturday night’s mistakes .

(On his tombstone, he says, will be the word “uneven.”)

The guest host, the cast, and the writers squeeze into Lorne’s office—everyone in the business refers to him by his first name, like Madonna, or Fidel—to pitch sketches.

People sit in the same places each week: four across a velvet couch, a dozen on chairs placed against the walls.

Others stand in the doorway or wedged near Michaels’s private bathroom, and the rest are on the floor, their legs folded like grade schoolers.

The exercise is largely ceremonial.

It’s rare for an idea floated on Monday to make it onto the air.

The goal of the gathering, which Tina Fey compares to a “church ritual,” is to make the host feel like one of the gang.

In the nineties, the host Christopher Walken both confounded and delighted the room when he offered, in his flat Queens drawl, “Ape suits are funny. Bears as well.”

The Monday meeting unleashes a process that has been followed since the show’s inception.

After Michaels and some handpicked staffers have dinner with the guest host on Tuesday, writers stay up all night churning out sketches.

Michaels is a night owl, and he thinks nothing of scheduling a meeting at 1:30 a.m.

As with many of his idiosyncrasies, he has turned his nocturnal habits into a philosophy.

“Fatigue is your friend,” he told me, during a series of conversations.

“Fatigue wears down the critical faculties, the inner editor.

If you’re tired, it’s easier to go, ‘How about this?’ ”

In the seventies, the overnight marathons involved a lot of drugs and drinking.

Gilda Radner used to bake cookies for the writers—useful for forming alliances and getting them to write good parts for her.

(That gambit wouldn’t work as well today, now that Ozempic is the drug of choice.)

Wednesday is when the contours of the week’s show emerge; from a lot of amorphous goofing around, sketches materialize.

That afternoon, they are presented at a table read.

Michaels reads the stage directions for each sketch aloud but refrains from commentary.

“My favorite Lorne is read-through Lorne,” Seth Meyers told me, noting that it’s the one time of the week when Michaels is completely open.

“I’ve been to plenty of them where he sat stony-faced for the full four hours. But when he’s surprised he has one of the great laughs, a real head-back, mouth-open thing.”

Afterward, Michaels has a smaller meeting, with his chief lieutenants, in which he “picks the show,” in “S.N.L.” jargon, selecting which sketches to pursue.

The sketches that survive aren’t necessarily the funniest.

Other factors inform the choices: What will make the host happy?

Which groupings of pieces can be staged within the physical constraints of Studio 8H?

Does everyone in the cast have something to do?

Are there “tonnage” issues (too much scatological humor, too many accents)?

Will enough sketches play in all fifty states?

Is there enough topical material?

Michaels has said that, in putting together a lineup, he is trying “to find enough colors to make a rainbow.”

On Thursday, carpenters are at work building fake living rooms and dive bars while the performers block and rehearse.

An unusual thing about “S.N.L.” is that the writers are in charge of producing their own pieces: they dictate what the set and costumes look like and what music is needed, and they direct the actors.

This is why “S.N.L.” ’s writers’ room generates so many future showrunners.

As Mulaney, who used to write for the show, puts it: with each sketch, “for five minutes NBC is yours.”

On Friday, the staff often hears Michaels say, “We have nothing.”

He’ll be staring tensely at the index cards on his bulletin board, which lay out each tentative segment.

Employees a quarter of his age are amazed that, after fifty years, he can still seem scared.

If things look particularly bleak, he’ll ask writers if they’ve been saving any good material for an upcoming host, telling them,

“Sometimes you have to burn the furniture.”

On Saturday afternoon, in Studio 8H, there’s a run-through of the sketches.

The show is often considerably too long at this point, so more sketches might be cut (and their brand-new sets scrapped).

It would be more efficient to choose the lineup on Wednesday, but Michaels likes to mull.

“Snap decisions get you into trouble,” he told me.

“I tend to do rolling decisions.”

Sometimes the guest host nixes a sketch.

In 2015, Donald Trump was to play a tree standing next to the Giving Tree, the Shel Silverstein character who gives and gives of herself until she’s reduced to a stump.

The sketch ended with the Trump tree calling the Giving Tree a sucker.

Trump refused to do the piece, not because it portrayed him as heartless but because he worried that the tree costume made him look fat.

At 8 P.M., there’s a dress rehearsal in front of a live audience, with twenty to thirty minutes’ worth of excess material.

This is the do-or-die moment of every “S.N.L.” week.

It’s the first time the comedy is seen by “civilians.”

Michaels, sitting in a foxhole underneath the audience bleachers, witnesses what gets a laugh and what doesn’t.

An assistant scribbles as he issues notes, and writers stand nearby for instructions on revisions.

Once, when Jonah Hill was hosting, I sat by Michaels under the bleachers.

Noticing that Hill has heavily inked arms, he ordered the costume designer to cover them up: “Tom! Lose the tattoos.”

After Hill muddled his way through a sketch about a cinema with a “farm to screen” snack menu, Michaels glumly declared, “Well, he can read.”

He called another sketch “entry-level comedy.”

To a writer of a segment that grossed out the audience, he icily said, “Can you take it and make it longer?”

But a subsequent meeting in his office each week, in the ninety minutes between the dress rehearsal and the live show, is when Michaels displays his superpowers.

He is definite and direct in a way that he is not during the rest of the week—a mode that he describes as “being on knifepoint.”

His aversion to confrontation is outweighed by the urgent need for triage.

He gives orders quickly.

There is little joshing around.

According to the oral history “Live from New York,” by Tom Shales and James Miller, one night Michaels turned to Bob Odenkirk, then a writer, who was whispering to his neighbor as the minutes to airtime were slipping past.

Michaels said, evenly, “Odenkirk, if you speak again I’ll break your fucking legs.”

Watching Michaels make these fast final decisions reminds Mulaney of a line from Stephen Sondheim’s “Sunday in the Park with George”:

“The choice might have been mistaken, but choosing was not.”

Michaels’s choosing is the zenith of the week.

He loves not having any time left to obsess over details.

It’s all from the gut.

The order is reshuffled, even more sketches are ditched, new endings are added.

(Tina Fey has called such tweaks “adding a little turd polish.”)

If he makes a bad decision, there’s always next week.

Late revisions are sent to a cue-card crew, who write new cards at lightning speed.

Michaels has a superstitious side and clings to outmoded methods; he refuses to use teleprompters and requires script revisions to be done on paper.

The atmosphere of controlled chaos is so well honed that the process can seem almost automatic, but it took Michaels years to establish his precepts of producing comedy.

The problem with making it look easy, he often says, is that then people think it’s easy.

When Michaels started “S.N.L.,” he had dark, tousled hair, like Warren Beatty’s in “Shampoo.”

His hair is now silvery and frequently barbered; it frames his face in a brushy fringe, as with a hedgehog, or a senator.

He stands about five feet eight, but his posture and confidence compensate for his height.

His smile, when he summons one, bisects his face like a slash.

His eyes are close set and dark, with a glitter of mockery.

Michaels rules “S.N.L.” with detached but absolute power.

His office is decorated with a sign that Rosie Shuster, his first wife and a writer on “S.N.L.” ’s early seasons, found in a West Village antique shop: “the captain’s word is law.”

It’s a joke that isn’t really a joke.

But he doesn’t micromanage every moment.

“I’ve never been able to tell whether Lorne is driven by a managerial philosophy or a life-style philosophy,” Robert Carlock, a writer who went on to help Fey develop “30 Rock,” told me.

“He’ll let everyone fight things out while he’s at Orso”—a midtown Italian restaurant—“and he’ll come back after a nice dinner and make the decision.”

A phrase that Michaels uses often is “the high end of smart,” and he likes to say, “If I’m the smartest person in the room, I’m in the wrong room.”

But he harbors no illusions that his cultivated nonchalance is taken at face value.

One talent agent routinely tells clients auditioning for Michaels to remember that he is the real star of the show.

He is the alpha in most of his employees’ lives.

To those people, and to the wider comedy world, he is a mysterious object of obsession.

Conversations about him are peppered with comparisons: he is Obi-Wan Kenobi (Tracy Morgan), the Great and Powerful Oz (David Spade, Kate McKinnon), Charles Foster Kane (Jason Sudeikis), a cult leader (Victoria Jackson), Tom Ripley (Bill Hader).

“There’s so many people who, their whole lives, have been trying to figure him out,” Hader told me.

Jon Hamm—a student of the show since he was six, when his divorced dad let him stay up and watch John Belushi—has hosted three times and says that he always learns from watching Michaels meet his deadline.

He remembers Michaels explaining how sometimes he’ll pick one sketch over another not because the writing is stronger but because it will be more powerful live_._

Hamm once delivered a monologue that involved showing pretend “clips” of his acting jobs before “Mad Men.”

The show could have pretaped the bits of him selling jewelry on QVC or doing standup on “Def Comedy Jam.”

(The joke: he sounds and looks just like Don Draper in all of them.)

But Michaels knew that it would be more exciting for the studio audience to see him running around making quick costume changes and popping onto different stages.

This is the essence of producing.

Michaels didn’t always know how to do it.

Born Lorne Lipowitz in Toronto in 1944, he started out as a writer and a performer.

The rudiments of producing were picked up over time, as he tried to find a place in show business where he could have creative control.

After graduating from the University of Toronto, he and a law-student friend, Hart Pomerantz, formed a comedy duo in the vein of Martin and Lewis.

Michaels played the straight man, often interviewing a “zany” character played by Pomerantz.

The team’s signature creation, the Canadian Beaver, was played by Pomerantz as a bucktoothed rodent with an inferiority complex about his imperialistic neighbor to the south, the American Eagle.

“Legs? All I want is a comfortable bra.”

A gig on a CBC radio show ended with the duo being fired.

Michaels wasn’t too heartbroken—he worried that their act was dopey and out of step with the culture.

He and Pomerantz sold jokes to other comics and went to New York to meet with Woody Allen, who was looking for writers.

The trio didn’t click, but after the meeting Michaels sent Allen a “bright joke”—one for smart people.

A man is obsessed with the idea that there’s no such thing as an original thought—that, somewhere, another guy is thinking the exact same thoughts, at the exact same time.

Eager to meet this mental doppelgänger, he somehow gets the other guy’s phone number.

He dials the number . . . and the line is busy.

Allen didn’t use the joke, but he pronounced it very funny.

“Woody saved my life with that,” Michaels told me.

youtube

In New York, he went to the Improv, in Hell’s Kitchen, and saw a young comic named Richard Pryor, who did a ten-minute one-man tour de force about a group of liberal New York actors bringing a play about interracial romance to a prison in the South.

The warden keeps demanding to see a “dead n——” onstage.

This was a new turn in comedy, devastating and brave, and Michaels wanted to follow it.

He believed that comedy “should be of use.”

He recalled being “messianic about it.”

But the work available to Michaels was far less ambitious.

In 1968, when Michaels was twenty-three, he and Pomerantz moved to L.A. to be junior writers on an NBC variety program called “The Beautiful Phyllis Diller Show.”

Michaels arrived for his first day with long hair encircled by a hippie headband.

His colleagues were men in their fifties and sixties who’d started out in radio.

The work seemed outdated, too.

“The first assignment we were given was to write fifty ‘fag jokes,’ ” Michaels said.

(Rip Taylor played Diller’s hairdresser, Paul of Pasadena.)

Each episode ended with a production number saluting a “forgotten American,” like President James K. Polk.

Michaels told himself that he’d ruined his life.

He was shocked, however, when the first episode got strong ratings.

The newspaper columnist Joseph Kraft had recently coined the term “Middle America,” and as Michaels spent more time in network TV he would learn to keep that demographic in his sights.

He now regularly reminds his “S.N.L.” staff, “We’ve got the whole country watching—all fifty states.”

Although the Diller show eventually flopped, Michaels learned a lot from his colleagues there.

One of them, George Balzer, who’d worked for Jack Benny, gave Michaels stacks of old Benny radio scripts.

They were deceptively short, “because they were all pauses,” Michaels said.

“I began to see what a joke looked like on a page. It was like knowing how to prepare a dish. Like: ‘To start with, the eggs go here.’ ”

As he became a comedy scholar, he started to recognize that his own talent was more curatorial.

He knew what was funny.

When Michaels told people that he wrote for TV, they’d sniff and say that they didn’t even own a set—they read books.

“Television was embarrassing,” he said.

“It was vulgar.”

It was still seen as the boob tube.

He started to understand what the philosopher Marshall McLuhan had been talking about back at the University of Toronto—the idea that, whenever a new mass medium emerges, it frees up the medium that preceded it, allowing it to innovate.

“Television becoming so powerful liberated movies, so that movies no longer had the burden of being mass,” Michaels told me.

Auteurs such as Stanley Kubrick and John Cassavetes were making rule-breaking films;

the Rolling Stones and David Bowie were pushing the boundaries of rock and roll.

TV was a backwater.

Michaels was stuck writing shopworn gags for a bitchy hairdresser character.

“Everything but television was changing,” he said.

Although Michaels was questioning the point of TV, he still needed to work.

After “The Beautiful Phyllis Diller Show” was cancelled, he and Pomerantz got hired at “Laugh-In,” a hit variety show on NBC that was hailed as TV’s first collusion with the counterculture.

The comedy derived from pie-in-the-face burlesque, but what distinguished the show was its frenetic pacing.

In a signature segment, the Joke Wall, performers in mod regalia poked their heads out of holes in a set, like cuckoos emerging from a clock, and spouted one-liners.

(“What goes ‘Ho ho thump’? Santa Claus laughing his head off.”)

The creator of “Laugh-In,” George Schlatter, proudly compared it to a pinball machine.

The show could be hilarious, but Michaels felt that its writers were disrespected—they worked out of a motel and never attended tapings or met the talent.

Jokes were rewritten without consultation.

“I was at a No. 1 show and a cool show,” he said. “But we were not part of the process.”

Although “Laugh-In” was studded with jokes about the Pill, politically it was toothless.

The show avoided thorny topics like the Vietnam War, except for silly bits such as Goldie Hawn biting her lip and saying, “I don’t like the Vietcong because in the movie he nearly wrecked the Empire State Building.”

The writers couldn’t get any Nixon jokes on the air.

Working on a No. 1 show was no more satisfying than working on a failure.

Michaels began dreaming of a show of his own—and he had the skills to pitch one.

Sandy Wernick, a talent agent who would soon sign Michaels, told me, “Lorne had the greatest gift for gab that I had ever heard in a guy in his twenties. He had theories of what comedy was all about. He knew exactly where the comedy of that era was going to go.”

In 1969, the only network that would let Michaels run his own show was the CBC, so he retreated to Canada with Pomerantz to create “The Hart and Lorne Terrific Hour.”

They did the Canadian Beaver shtick, among other bits, but Michaels began to realize that he was most engaged in the editing room, looking at how shots were framed and paying attention to lighting filters during musical acts.

The show’s high point was “The Puck Crisis,” a mockumentary about an invasive species that spread Dutch puck disease, devastating Canada’s hockey-puck farmers.

Alongside grim footage of lab-coated scientists examining shrivelled pucks drooping from branches, a dead-serious voice-over explains the blight’s origins:

“Puck pests, or puctococci, were accidentally carried over on the sticks of a touring Dutch hockey team.”

Michaels plays a newscaster interviewing citizens about the disaster, cutting in a clip of the real Canadian hockey star Bob Baun playing along.

(“Without pucks, I’m just a guy who skates backwards.”)

Pomerantz, who was more of a gag man, told me, “That’s producing. I wasn’t good at that.”

“The Puck Crisis” embodied the kind of deadpan conceptual comedy Michaels wanted to make.

The show was popular, but the CBC dropped it after a few seasons.

Michaels knew that the sort of unconventional humor he liked wasn’t yet viable on American networks, but it was taking hold on a smaller scale, offscreen.

In addition to Richard Pryor, comics including Lily Tomlin, Steve Martin, and Albert Brooks were beguiling club audiences with raw material that rarely made it onto the “Tonight Show.”

The common ground was a worldliness about drugs and sex, and skepticism about politics and corporate America.

Show business—the hacky, sentimental kind—was another target.

After a string of dispiriting TV jobs back in L.A. (including a Perry Como special), Michaels met Tomlin, who’d been on “Laugh-In.”

They bonded over their ambivalence about TV, and the way it lagged cheesily behind the rest of the culture.

It drove him crazy, he told her, when there was a sketch about marijuana on a Bob Hope special and the “stoned” performers just acted drunk.

Starting in 1973, Michaels helped Tomlin make three network specials featuring long, character-driven sketches, with Tomlin addressing the audience in between.

Tomlin told me, “Lorne can add to stuff, but he’s not necessarily, like, a really diligent writer.”

He was better at shaping other people’s ideas.

He paid close attention to Tomlin’s comedy style: she was freeing the form from punch lines, infusing sketches with psychological depth.

Their first special together, for CBS, had a pointedly feminist slant.

Tomlin mocked housewifery, telling viewers, “You’re watching television when you could be doing something constructive, like putting your spice rack in order alphabetically.”

One sketch, vetoed by the network, had Tomlin playing a prim mother, Mrs. Beasley, calling her son in from the back yard, which was actually a war zone, ablaze with exploding mortar shells.

“Billy!” she yells.

“Where’s your leg? You think legs grow on trees? Come on, leg or no leg, supper’s on the table.”

The special won two Emmys, but a CBS executive, Fred Silverman, called it “too esoteric.”

The work that Michaels did with Tomlin came closer to his comedy ideal than anything he’d done so far.

“She was probably the formative influence on me,” he said.

But he also sensed that Tomlin could never headline a network series.

“Lily was an artist, pure and simple,” he told me, and prime time “was about ‘How do you hold forty million people?’ ”

His attention wandered back to a show that he’d always had in his head: a mixture of film shorts, rock music, and sketches performed by a repertory company of young players.

Sandy Wernick had been putting Michaels together with various middle-aged production execs, but they didn’t get it; Michaels explained to them that people in his generation were the first to have grown up with television, and they were sick of the same old pabulum.

He wanted to recapture this disaffected group by satirizing the way TV saturated people’s thinking and shrink-wrapped the culture.

When Tomlin heard that Michaels was moving on, she felt that she’d been used as a stepping stone.

She never confronted him about it, but she had the feeling, as she put it, of “when protégés float over you.”

In 1974, NBC had a problem to solve.

Johnny Carson had announced that he wanted the network to stop airing reruns of the “Tonight Show” on Saturdays.

So NBC’s new president, Herbert Schlosser, decided to create a program to fill the slot.

He wanted to call it “Saturday Night,” and envisaged it being broadcast live from Rockefeller Center.

Michaels had never considered late night before, and he was surprised, at a breakfast meeting with NBC executives at the Polo Lounge in the Beverly Hills Hotel, that the men didn’t flinch when he said that he wanted to do a show that looked as though a bunch of kids had sneaked into a studio after the adults went home.

When he mentioned that he’d want to have Richard Pryor on the show, however, the mood got tense.

Pryor had just punched an NBC page on the set of a Flip Wilson special, and the network was now entangled in a lawsuit.

Nevertheless, NBC made Michaels an offer.

The sudden green light caught him off guard.

He’d started to feel at home in L.A.; New York in the mid-seventies was in free fall, an intimidating place.

He was also thrown by Schlosser’s mandate that the show be done live.

He was used to polishing for hours in an editing room.

But a live broadcast, he soon realized, offered stealthy opportunities.

You could skip producing a pilot, a process that makes “all your most conservative instincts come out,” he said on a podcast—so “you find yourself doing what you think . . . will get you on the air.”

With no pilot, there’d be no audience-research reports and no notes from executives or advertisers.

“The idea that I could do a show in which the audience would see it at the same time as the network was thrilling,” Michaels said.

“I get that the sounds help you sleep, but I don’t like the way he stares.”

He accepted the job, telling NBC executives that his show would take shape organically over time.

“We will always be experimenting on the air,” he said.

“I know what the ingredients are but not the recipe.”

He asked the network for three months to assemble writers and performers, and then three more months for them to jell as an ensemble.

The show would have gruelling hours, he noted, so he was looking for “people you could drive cross-country with and not kill.”

One of his hiring mantras was that comedy, as a humanizing force, is too important to be left to professionals.

He wanted “enlightened amateurs”—people with little or no TV experience.

He hadn’t considered that many of the talented people in that category had little or no TV experience because they had little or no interest in TV.

Around this time, Michaels went to see “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” in L.A., with his friend Rob Reiner.

While waiting in line, they bumped into Chevy Chase, whom Reiner knew.

Chase got Michaels’s attention the way he often got attention—by doing an elaborate pratfall.

Michaels soon invited him to join his new show’s writing staff.

“I knew instantly that Lorne was a funny guy,” Chase told me.

“He wasn’t an initiator of humor as much as a believer in humor.”

Chase signed on.

Michaels also hired some friends from Canada as cast members—Dan Aykroyd (a master of disappearing inside a role) and Gilda Radner (who created characters of Tomlin-like sweetness).

Through auditions, he hired John Belushi, who astonished the room with a deliriously strange character: a samurai billiard player.

He brandished a wooden closet rod, grunting and rubbing his chin sagely; whenever it looked as though he was going to erupt into violence, he’d swing the pole down and mime a difficult billiards shot.

(Michaels acknowledges that the bit would be considered offensive today. “There’s almost nothing we did in the seventies that I could do now,” he said in 2019, citing a sketch called “News for the Hard of Hearing,” in which an “interpreter,” Garrett Morris, repeats everything the anchor says, but shouting.)

Michaels originally conceived of the program as being similar to a magazine—a collection of distinct voices.

One of the first staff writers, Anne Beatts, liked to note that he began hiring the writing team before the cast, practically unheard of in television.

At the time, Michaels explained, “I became a producer to protect my writing, which was being fucked over by producers.”

He signed up Andy Kaufman after seeing him at a club and being entranced by his arty material.

(“Man, that should’ve been at the Guggenheim,” an associate of Michaels’s had said at the club.)

A subsequent screen test shows Kaufman sitting at a desk and reciting the lyrics to “MacArthur Park,” which are unsurpassed in their rococo inanity.

He intones, “Someone left the cake out in the rain. I don’t think that I can take it. ’Cause it took so long to bake it. And I’ll never have that recipe again. Oh—no.”

Michaels knew that he wanted Kaufman’s radical novelty in the show.

“It was as beautiful a thing as you could witness,” he told the journalist Bill Zehme.

“He wasn’t enmeshed in the show business of it. . . . There seemed to be some other commitment, something very pure and more personal.”

Michaels had hipness covered, but he needed to insure that his show would have “hard laughs”—the ones that remind “you of a happier time in your life.”

He’d seen a standup set by a Catskills-inflected comic named Alan Zweibel, and asked him to submit some material.

Zweibel pulled two all-nighters typing up eleven hundred jokes.

Michaels loved the first one: “The postal service is issuing a new stamp, commemorating prostitution. It’s a ten-cent stamp, but if you want to lick it it’s a quarter.”

The joke had the cadence and payoff of a classic hard laugh, but with an edge.

Zweibel came on board.

Michaels, haunted by the “Laugh-In” assembly-line method, wanted each sketch’s author to be recognizable from its style.

He wanted a Black writer on staff and put out a feeler to the Writers Guild.

A friend there sent over a play by a thirty-eight-year-old Juilliard-trained playwright and actor named Garrett Morris.

Michaels liked what he read and hired Morris.

Michaels and his second wife, the model Susan Forristal (left), dance with Lauren Hutton at a gala event at the Metropolitan Museum, in 1978.Photograph by Ron Galella / Getty

The most astringent voice was Michael O’Donoghue, a literary snob and a high-strung perfectionist who, while at National Lampoon, had written “The Vietnamese Baby Book,” a parody keepsake album noting such milestones as “Baby’s first word (medic).”

O’Donoghue regarded television as a lava lamp with sound, but he joined the writing staff, as did Anne Beatts, who was dating O’Donoghue;

she bluntly told Michaels that she considered the Tomlin specials more feminist than funny.

O’Donoghue broadcast his sensibility by decorating his office with pinups from a porn magazine for amputee fetishists called Stump Love.

Although Michaels had never been a Lampoon partisan (he disliked its “sweat sock” attitude), he intuited that the couple’s savage savoir-faire could be useful, and he promised them artistic freedom.

Michaels also wanted the show to look different.

The typical variety-show set was a cyclorama wall, a seamless stretch of nothingness, decorated with mere “suggestions of sets”: a lone lamppost, a window frame.

Michaels asked for “hard-wall reality”—actual rooms, with doors and furniture, that wouldn’t compete with the comedy.

In June, 1975, a few months before the show was to début, Michaels sent a three-page memo to NBC executives.

He made sure not to overpromise, but he now knew how to talk like a producer.

Of the rotating guest hosts, he said, “The requisite quality I am looking for is spontaneity. Fame and talent would not hurt.”

In addition to sketches by a repertory company, there would be pretaped commercial parodies (“enormously helpful in pacing a live show”).

The memo refrained from spelling out his countercultural comedy code, described by Doug Hill and Jeff Weingrad, in “Saturday Night: A Backstage History,” as “knowing drug references, casual profanity, a permissive attitude toward sex, a deep disdain for show-business convention, blistering political satire, and bitter distrust of corporate power.”

He understood what a network wanted to hear.

In hindsight, the memo’s most striking quality is its marginalization of the rep players.

But Michaels was keenly aware of how much talent he’d assembled.

Aykroyd told me, “Lorne saw skills and abilities in people. He’d say, ‘You can pull this off. You can sing this song.’ He could put it all together, and it would coalesce into something with impact.”

“Saturday Night,” Michaels told his staff, would feature sketches, not skits.

Skits are one-joke bits done in grade school or by guys at the Rotary Club.

A sketch is a vignette, with a beginning, a middle, and an end.

His conception of the comedy he liked was similar to his conception of himself—underplayed, with a light touch, never “sweaty” or trying too hard.

Michaels had a professorial management style, and whenever a staffer proposed an idea he’d immediately have a critique.

If a pitch was too elaborate, he might say, “Premise overload.”

To Michaels’s way of thinking, precision in comedy is as unequivocal as a surgeon’s cut.

Miss your mark by a millimetre and the joke dies.

He subscribed to Mark Twain’s observation that the difference between the almost right word and the right word is the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.

For this reason, he forbade improvising.

“The way I work, you do all your work beforehand, and you write down the dialogue that you’ve actually chosen,” he told me.

His models were auteurs such as Billy Wilder and Preston Sturges, writer-directors who expected actors to respect their words.

When reviewing scripts, Michaels would tell writers not to overexplain, to allow viewers to make key connections.

He’d quote Wilder:

“Give the audience two plus two and let them make four.”

He scribbled comments on script pages and suggested new pairings of writers.

“Cross-fertilization started,” Michaels said. “That was the thing that I was smartest about.”

The writers played off one another like jazz musicians.

Michaels’s wife, Rosie Shuster, whom he’d known since childhood, joined the writing staff, even though their marriage was fraying.

She described the months of preparation as an incubation period in which “everybody was kind of falling in love and trying to crack each other up.”

“I’m not on the apps. I want to meet someone the old-fashioned way: by being born as an adult in the Garden of Eden, where my future husband is already waiting for me, naked.”

Michaels didn’t anoint a head writer at first, although Chase and O’Donoghue each claimed the title.

Michaels has credited Chase and O’Donoghue with helping to create the show, emphasizing that it was not a “full-blown-from-Zeus sort of thing.”

He had originally pictured the show’s staff as a community without rank.

But everyone was driven to win his approval.

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Laraine Newman, a cast member who’d done a Valley Girl character on a Tomlin special, told me, “You learned early on to distinguish Lorne’s real laugh from his fake laugh. The fake laugh would be ‘gasp gasp,’ a kind of inhale. The real laugh would be his face totally crinkled up, his teeth bared, and a kind of a wheeze.”

Michaels’s businesslike calm was a counterbalance to the whirling egos and animosities that drove his employees.

When he held forth about the principles of comedy, some found him mesmerizing, but others merely tolerated it.

Jane Curtin, part of the first cast, characterized him as the type of comedy professional who, instead of laughing, “says, with a completely straight face, ‘Hysterical.’ ”

A fake newscast had always been part of Michaels’s vision, and he initially expected to play the newscaster himself.

As the air date approached, he changed his mind.

It would be awkward to cut other people’s material while leaving himself in.

That, he said, would be “a little too Orson Welles, even for me.”

And it would have required being vulnerable in front of his staff.

Newman said, “You have your hat in your hand when you’re a performer. And that seems to be the thing that Lorne would want the very least in his life.”

Chase was making Michaels laugh the most around the office, so, even though Chase had been hired as a writer, Michaels tapped him to anchor the segment, which he called “Weekend Update.”

On October 11, 1975, “Saturday Night” débuted.

A traditional variety show would have opened with the guest host.

But Michaels wanted viewers to know immediately that his show was, in Monty Python’s words, something completely different.

His show jumped right into the comedy, with no glitzy preamble.

(The first segment is now known as a “cold open.” Michaels told me, “I made that phrase up.”)

The first thing viewers saw was a Dada-ish sketch in a minor key, written by O’Donoghue.

Seated in an armchair, O’Donoghue begins giving an English lesson to John Belushi, whose schlubby bomber hat and sack of groceries peg him as an immigrant.

The professor has the student repeat a series of phrases, starting with “I would like.”

In a thick accent, Belushi repeats, “I would like.”

Then: “To feed your fingertips.”

Belushi: “To feed your fingertips.”

O’Donoghue goes on, “To the wolverines.”

The audience erupts into startled laughter—the show’s first.

Soon, O’Donoghue clutches his heart, gasps, and falls to the floor.

Belushi grunts and tumbles to the floor as well.

After a pause, Chase enters, wearing a stage manager’s headset.

Flashing his tennis-pro smile at the camera, he says, “Live, from New York, it’s ‘Saturday Night’!”

Steve Martin, whose standup career was just ramping up, watched the première on TV and was gobsmacked.

“I felt like I was the avant-garde. I was the one doing the new comedy,” he said.

“I thought, Oh, fuck—they did it. They had gotten there first.”

Michaels’s creation became a national sensation.

It was especially a hit with the coveted youth demographic.

Part of the show’s success lay in its tonal mixture.

Albert Brooks contributed insider-y short films spoofing show-biz mediocrity; one was a reel of promos for fake NBC shows, including “Black Vet,” about an African American man back from Vietnam who opens a veterinary practice.

Michaels balanced such material with warmer pieces—he wanted sketches drawing on staffers’ real lives.

“What Gilda Ate” was a quiet monologue in which Radner listed things she’d eaten that day, in a way that made clear she had a problem.

(“I ate the whole thing!”)

Michaels called moments like this “the show itself speaking,” adding, “That part was the sacred part.”

Eager for more such moments, he lured Marilyn Suzanne Miller, with whom he’d worked on Tomlin’s specials, onto the writing staff.

Miller told me, “Lorne was interested in inner life.”

The men on the show didn’t always welcome the feminine material.

Tomlin hosted an early episode for which she pitched a sketch about a class that teaches female hardhats how to catcall men.

(“Hey, stud muffins, wanna make bouncy-bouncy?”)

None of the guys wanted to play the humiliated beefcake.

Michaels eventually persuaded Aykroyd, who did the role justice in short shorts and a tank top.

But Belushi sometimes said that he wouldn’t do pieces “written by girls.”

The writers, meanwhile, kept casting Garrett Morris as a woman, which annoyed the cast’s actual women, not to mention Morris, who got sick of playing mammies and wearing dresses to impersonate Tina Turner or Pearl Bailey.

Michaels didn’t indulge what Shuster called the show’s “testosterone energy,” but he also didn’t intervene much.

He was like a parent who lets his children sort out squabbles themselves.

Penelope Spheeris, who produced Brooks’s short films, observed, “The cast and writers are the children. And he makes them compete with each other. And out of that competition comes two things—brilliant writing and a dislike for the other person.”

For many staffers, trying to get Michaels’s approval was like squeezing a dry sponge.

“Lorne is repelled by the sight of needy people,” Newman said.

Even if getting what Miller called “female-feeling pieces” on the air was a priority for Michaels, one of his regular put-downs was to call a sketch “too ‘Carol Burnett.’ ”

It was a stylistic observation, not a sexist one.

“‘Carol Burnett’ was Broadway,” he told me.

“We were rock and roll. Their sketches were about alcoholism, divorce, life in the suburbs—middle-aged stuff. I wanted us writing about our stuff.”

“Saturday Night” featured jokes about Belushi’s doctor cutting off his drug supply, and a sketch set in ancient Greece in which Newman played a character named Anorexia.

Michaels’s dream host—Richard Pryor—appeared in the seventh episode and pushed the show to daring new heights.

In one sketch, Chase plays a man interviewing Pryor for a job, and subjects him to a word-association test.

“Dog,” Chase says.

“Tree,” Pryor answers.

Chase ups the ante, forcing Pryor, ultimately, to turn the tables and reverse the power dynamic:

Chase: Negro.

Pryor: Whitey.

Chase: Tar baby.

Pryor: What’d you say?

Chase: Tar baby.

Pryor: Ofay.

Chase: Colored.

Pryor: Redneck.

Chase: Junglebunny.

Pryor: Peckerwood!

Chase: Burrhead.

Pryor: Cracker.

Chase: Spearchucker.

Pryor: White trash.

Chase: Junglebunny.

Pryor: Honky.

Chase: Spade.

Pryor: Honky honky!

Chase: N———!

Pryor: Dead honky!

The sketch concludes with Pryor in a quivering rage and a whimpering Chase offering him the job at an elevated salary, making him “the highest-paid janitor in America.”

By the end of Season 1, the cast was being recognized on the street, but the breakout star was the preppy and handsome Chase.

He began alienating his colleagues, sometimes talking about himself in the third person.

One day, Aykroyd confronted Michaels in a fury:

Chase was giving him notes on a Scottish accent.

Michaels views this moment as the commencement of his becoming “the world expert on people getting famous.”

Hollywood began offering Chase movie deals.

He and Michaels were intensely close, but Michaels decided that he wouldn’t beg him to stay.

One of Michaels’s axioms about celebrity is “People don’t like to collaborate past the point of fame.”

Of Chase’s possible defection, Michaels told his colleagues, “The show would take a hit, but we’d still be O.K.”

He came to see turnover as the natural order of things—another lesson in his producer’s handbook.

“People burn out in relationships,” he said to me, in work as well as in life.

Chase, for his part, found Michaels’s businesslike pose confounding.

Getting him to stay, Chase told me, “wouldn’t have fucking taken much! All he had to do is tell me he loved me, basically. But his nature is to be above it in some fashion.”

He attributed Michaels’s reluctance to insecurity.

“Frankly, I always felt back then that I was smarter than him, that I was really the guy who got the show going, not Lorne.”

When Chase left for Hollywood, Michaels replaced him with Bill Murray, someone who distinctly lacked a golden-boy aura.

Murray, an Irish Catholic, grew up outside Chicago in a big working-class family.

Michaels was starting to see that the show, like the city that was its home, benefitted from being in a permanent state of flux.

Whenever the show’s rhythms were “getting to the point where smugness was about to creep in, I tried to kick it around a little,” Michaels told Rolling Stone.

In addition to hiring Murray, he brought in Steve Martin as a frequent host.

Martin forever changed the show by adding a flavor of comedy that was both goofy and brainy.

He débuted an original song, “King Tut” (“Buried with a donkey! He’s my favorite honky!”), in a live performance that Michaels mounted with lavish production values.

The single sold more than a million copies.

The show’s popularity transformed it.

The cast members found that their small talk, once centered on who was sleeping together, now focussed on the industry.

Newman recalled a rehearsal in which “we were all talking about what we were naming our corporations.”

Hers was Init Productions. Aykroyd’s was Applied Action Research Corp.

Radner stopped, mid-blocking, and said, “What’s happened? We’ve joined the establishment.”

Anne Beatts used to say that you can only be avant-garde for so long before you become garde.

This was certainly true for Michaels.

He started wearing well-cut suits and blazers; he traded his sneakers for Italian loafers.

He eventually bought a large apartment on Central Park West, in the building where his famous friend Paul Simon lived.

Simon and his famous wife, Carrie Fisher, were next door, and they’d wander into each other’s apartments, referring to themselves as the Ricardos and the Mertzes.

“Best of all, this neighborhood is really walkable.”

In 1977, Michaels rented a ten-bedroom mansion in East Hampton.

On Labor Day, he threw a lawn party with O’Donoghue, Chase, and Simon.

The hosts asked guests to wear white.

Michaels wasn’t sure how to think about his own event.

Was he throwing a parody of a party that Jay Gatsby would throw?

Or was it the real thing, the ostentatious yet elegant exhibition of an out-of-towner’s rapid ascent?

At the party, he stood somewhat apart, idly fiddling with a badminton racquet.

Jann Wenner was there, as were Shelley Duvall and Eric Idle.

Guests ate watercress sandwiches and sipped a cocktail invented by O’Donoghue: the Soiled Kimono, two parts champagne and one part Japanese plum wine.

(The White Party became an annual tradition, the guest list growing more splendid each year.)

Everything about “S.N.L.” was now A-list.

Among the cast members, there was a sense that Michaels was entering a different realm.

“He spent a lot of time talking about where he was going to eat,” Curtin told me.

Belushi referred to the boss’s fancy friends as “the dead.”

Once, he treated a reporter to his impersonation of Michaels making some calls:

“Nicholson, can you hold just a second? I have Mike Nichols on the other line. Mike, can you hold for a second? I’ve got Mick Jagger on the other line. Mick, I’ll be with you in a second. . . .”

In 1981, Michaels, having gone through an amicable divorce with Shutter, married Susan Forristal, a successful model, at a house he’d bought near the ocean, in Amagansett.

He has never tried to conceal his appetite for the things that money can buy.

People like to imagine, he said in “Live from New York,” that he’s on his way “into a hot tub with seventy-two virgins or whatever. Fine. I’d much rather my life be perceived as glamorous or stylish than as one of an enormous amount of work that is unceasing.”

The show, which added “Live” to its title in Season 3, began giving audiences more of what they wanted most: repeating characters.

The Coneheads, the Nerds, Mr. Bill—fans laughed at those no matter what. O’Donoghue considered recurring characters pandering, and Michaels occasionally announced that he wanted to banish them, but he never did.

He was willing to risk the annoyance of critics—who, snooty about the show’s popularity, regularly pulled out the lazy headline “Saturday Night Dead.”

But he wouldn’t disappoint the viewers.

A Snickers bar isn’t the very best candy bar, but pretty much everybody likes it.

By the eighties, “S.N.L.” had forged a clear path to Hollywood success—at one point, it was estimated that the top-ten-grossing movie comedies in history all starred alums of the show.

“Animal House,” which starred Belushi, brought hordes of new viewers to the show—a frat-boy contingent that Michaels called “the undeserved audience.”

In an interview with the Times, Jim Downey, one of the show’s longest-serving head writers, compared its early days to “a children’s crusade; people would camp out here and not think about anything but the show.”

Since then, he said, “anyone coming here knows what the formula is: a couple of hit characters, then you get a movie.”

There was more jockeying for position.

Writers refined strategies to get their pieces on the air—making the set ultra-simple could work, and so could writing parts for Newman or Morris, who were both often under-used in the show.

The all-night Tuesday writing sessions set a tone of dysfunction that permeated the week.

A portion of the staff ran on cocaine.

A pot dealer named Merlin roamed the halls.

Michaels ignored such behavior, and he increasingly hid away from the cast, who always seemed to want more—airtime, money, attention.

People took his cutting a sketch as a personal slight, and they sulked.

“I began to be more removed, I think, because the consequences of my actions began to have greater and greater weight,” Michaels said in a documentary about the show’s first five years.

“We were a team, and we had to stay together and fight for each other. At the same time, I had more power.”

One story that Michaels tells on repeat goes like this: “I was on a boat once, and there was a man on the boat. He was from the audience”—that is, a normal human being.

“The man was being funny in the way that Bill Murray is funny, and I thought to myself, I know Bill Murray. You know what I mean?”

When he told this story to Bill Hader, who joined the cast in 2005, Hader nodded yes.

“But I had no idea what he was talking about,” he said.

What Michaels was talking about was that, at a certain point, the show got away from him.

By the fifth season, it had become an institution.

And the millions of viewers had sucked up what he and the show were selling so avidly that the language of “S.N.L.” had rewired their brains.

People inserted “S.N.L.” catchphrases into their wedding vows and used robotic Conehead voices around the water cooler.

The show had become collective cultural property.

After Season 5, Michaels left the show, not entirely by choice.

The breach stemmed from a tortured negotiation with NBC over Michaels’s request for some time to regroup; talks were ultimately derailed by Al Franken’s ridiculing the network president on air.

Five years later, Michaels came back.

Ratings had sunk, and the show had become reliant on pretaped bits.

“It lost what is magic about it,” Michaels said in 1985.

“I think ‘Saturday Night Live’ is about contact with another group of humans coming through this tube.”

In the conformist eighties, Michaels largely abandoned the Andy Kaufman strain of his formula.

When picking the show, he leaned toward harder laughs—crowd-pleasers like Dana Carvey’s Church Lady, a bravura display of performing chops.

“S.N.L.” continued to reliably supply fans with catchphrases such as “We just want to pump YOU up!”

After a rocky return year, in which he hired too many young performers—three had been in John Hughes movies—Michaels focussed on making smooth transitions between casts, older players overlapping with new ones.

He’d learned that it was crucial to notice “when the music changed.”

It was useful when the new performers knew other cast members, helping the ensemble cohere.

Carvey said, “Lorne’s always looking for chemistry—a group that would all fit together, like the Beatles.”

In this less caustic era, one of Michaels’s rules became “Do it in sunshine”—that is, don’t forget that comedy is an entertainment.

Colors should be bright, costumes flattering.

People watch TV, he believes, as if they’re huddled around a fire at night.

You don’t want too much “dark” in comedy: “You can just look out the window for dark.”

Fred Armisen remembers Michaels saying, “There’s enough misery in the world.”

Michaels especially counsels his staff to avoid writing anger in a sketch: “It’s really difficult to make anger funny.”

Idiots, he says, play better than assholes.

He always wants his actors to give even the worst villain a spark of something appealing.

Otherwise, the audience is simply repelled.

“What the English know is that if you’re playing the greatest villain, make him charming,” he says.

Newcomers to the show are often surprised to hear Michaels talking about wanting “sweetness” in sketches—the interior, emotional shadings that Gilda Radner and Marilyn Suzanne Miller specialized in.

With each passing year, Michaels has added to his list of oracular pronouncements.

O’Donoghue, who sneered at the show’s softer turn—he once pushed for live gunfire in the studio—couldn’t stand the speechifying of “Lorne (the Rabbi) Michaels” and what he called Michaels’s “kindergarten comedy theories,” but many staff members loved the boss’s maxims.

“To this day, I think about these proofs Lorne’s passed down,” Chris Rock told me. “It’s like mixing chemicals. Too much of this or too little of that and you’ve got a disaster.”

He ranks Michaels, as a producer, with Quincy Jones: both focus on fundamentals.

“Comedy is no different than music,” he said.

“There’s scales, and there’s keys, and there’s notes to hit.”

Sometimes a sketch lives or dies because of some rhythmic alchemy.

The famous Blue Öyster Cult sketch didn’t get on “S.N.L.” the first week it was rehearsed, with Norm Macdonald as the lead, but when Christopher Walken played the producer, and yelled “More cowbell!” in his very particular cadence, it exploded.

Although Michaels has firm rules about sketch comedy, he is more flexible about the talent-management aspect of his producer role.

Different personalities, he believes, require different approaches.

To some, Michaels will bark, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Hader, who is prone to anxiety attacks, remembers Michaels coming to his dressing room when he hosted and snapping, “Calm the fuck down. Just have fun. Jesus Christ.”

With others, he is warmer.

Molly Shannon treasures the memory of how, when she was nervous just before going onstage, Michaels would “reassure me with his eyes.”

Michaels has changed his laissez-faire attitude toward substance abuse.

The fatal overdose of Belushi led him to rethink his approach to people in his orbit with drug problems.

He once said that, in the seventies, he felt that “as long as people showed up on time, did their job, it was nobody’s business what they did in their bedroom or what they did in their lives. That value system turned out to be wrong.”

Because Michaels oversees a bunch of comedians, his personality tics have been ruthlessly and relentlessly catalogued and mocked in the writers’ room, as a way to release the competitive pressure.

When Conan O’Brien was on staff, he invented a game called “Which Paul?”

The setup is that Michaels is inviting someone to dinner with his friend Paul.

“And you’d want to figure out, is it Paul Simon or Paul McCartney?” O’Brien explained.

Hader does an impression of Michaels name-dropping serial killers as if they were A-listers.

It is staff canon that there is practically no piece of information one can tell Michaels that does not prompt a rapid-fire “No-no-no-no, I know” or a languorous “Right.”

There used to be a writers’-room bit about this compulsion: one version has Michaels strolling on the beach in St. Barts with one of his young children, who points at the rising moon and says, full of wonder, “Look, Daddy!”

Michaels shoots back, “No-no-no-no, I know. We had the moon in the seventies.”

His sarcastic “Right” became part of the most famous caricature of him: Dr. Evil in “Austin Powers,” by the “S.N.L.” alum Mike Myers.

Dr. Evil also raises a pinkie to his mouth when he’s scheming, a reference to the nail-biting Michaels would do when pondering which sketches to cut.

(Myers has often denied that the performance was entirely based on Michaels, but in fact it’s a rare act of caricature theft—a beat-for-beat imitation of an impersonation of Michaels by Dana Carvey, which Carvey performed only while sitting in the makeup chair, in a bald wig, at “S.N.L.”)

The in-jokes about Michaels are funny because they draw on aspects of who he really is: the mogul who maintains a poise that verges on prissiness, the rich man who advises people just starting out on where to vacation.

(Fey does a riff in Michaels’s voice about buying a vacation home on the planet Naboo, from “Star Wars,” and how chic and undiscovered it is.)

The “loose reins” approach that Michaels professes to take with talent can be double-edged.

Summoning his best Michaels voice, Hader conjured Michaels’s damage-control instinct:

“If you start drowning, he’s not, like, ‘Here’s a life jacket.’ He’s, like, ‘Oooh, look at that guy drowning in my pool. That’s disgusting—let’s go over here and hang with Alec Baldwin.’ ”

Baldwin himself, who has hosted seventeen times, sized up Michaels’s management methods as “Darwinian,” saying, “Lorne just stands back and lets them cannibalize each other.”

Michaels knows that his sink-or-swim protocol is tough on new hires.

“The only thing that justifies that level of abuse is the exhilaration of it working,” he has said.

New recruits haven’t always known whether Michaels’s fitful management style is a demonstration of ambivalence or technique.

Jan Hooks, who had a stellar five years on the show, went through a hard time after the death of her mother.

Michaels adored Hooks and considered her a star.

But, when Kevin Nealon asked Michaels to give her a little praise, he responded, “I understand what you’re saying, but you’ll find that it’s never enough.”

He told me, quoting a former therapist, “A baby looks at the mother and thinks, Why do you only have two breasts? Why do you not have three breasts? It’s an insatiable demand, and you see it in performers, and you see it in writers.”

Michaels’s mentoring technique has tormented certain staffers.

When Chris Farley was a new cast member, he went to Bob Odenkirk with tears in his eyes.

Farley said that every time he messed up Michaels told him that he’d hit it out of the park.

And every time he killed Michaels chastised him for not making enough of an effort.

“Chris was mind-fucked,” Odenkirk said.

“Lorne clearly felt that if you kept people off balance they’d try harder.”

Odenkirk found Michaels’s process hard to parse.

“You’d think that you’d say, ‘We’re gonna pick the best sketches, and then we’re gonna shine ’em up as best we can,’ ” he told me.

But, the way the show runs, “the focus is on just getting it to happen and not on the quality level.”

When he worked at “S.N.L.,” he felt that it was straitjacketed by having its arbiter be a man who was a teen-ager in the fifties.

“I thought, Fuck this guy for being in charge,” he said.

“Shouldn’t ‘S.N.L.’ be for each generation?” (Odenkirk now says of this attitude, “I was a dick.”)

The one time writers were certain to hear Michaels’s feedback directly was during dress rehearsal, when they saw him in laser-focus mode under the bleachers.

Even today, during those two hours, he watches what the audience watches, but he sees more—lighting, music cues, wigs, accents, entrances.

“If you were to read a year’s worth of his notes from dress rehearsal, you’d have a master class in TV production that is unparalleled,” the former “S.N.L.” writer A. Whitney Brown told me.

Many writers have sat beside him watching their sketches die, only to have him turn and say, with stony sarcasm, “You must be very proud.”

If the host’s monologue is flat, he’ll moan, “Can we get any charm out of him?”

If a piece is too erudite, he might tell its writer, “Can they take the Emmy away?”

John Mulaney said, “May the cast members go to their graves never knowing the things I heard under the bleachers.”

Chris Rock, who mopped floors before joining “S.N.L.,” in 1990, was impatient with colleagues who moped if their sketches got cut.

“I learned everything I know from that show. You got to shoot your shot that week,” he told me.

“Killing onstage isn’t subjective. When people talk about fair and unfair, I’m, like, ‘Shut up.’ It’s, like, ‘Get bigger laughs.’ ”

The format Michaels created fifty years ago guaranteed the show’s perpetual adolescence.

Anne Beatts used to describe Michaels as “the leader of the Lost Boys.”

In “Peter Pan,” the boys never grow up; at “S.N.L.,” the young performers all get replaced, with Michaels presiding in a role that’s part Wendy, part Captain Hook.

Although he is now eighty, the company he’s kept has prevented him from becoming a dinosaur—or, worse, an unhip dinosaur.

Sticking to his Snickers-bar concept sustained the show, and it has sustained him.

Michaels dotes on his family—he has three grown children with his third wife, Alice Barry—but colleagues have always felt that, really, he is married to the show.

His decades of producing experience have imbued “S.N.L.” with a clockwork stability.

Every week, the sketches are written, the index cards shuffled, the vases of flowers replenished.

New employees are still routinely terrified of him; when the office feels too friendly, whispers circulate that Michaels doesn’t like “the tree-house vibe.”

Will Ferrell thinks that Michaels’s emotional withholding is part of a baseball-derived management style.

“Baseball players keep the highs not too high and the lows not too low,” he said.

“Lorne knows that it’s a long season.”

Michaels is now the age at which men like him become connoisseurs of history.

A reader of biographies, he keeps a mental list of historical figures whose careers remind him of his own.

The roster is not modest.

There’s Thomas Edison. (“He didn’t think he invented anything. He thought he perfected things, and that all the ideas he perfected were already in the air.”)

There’s William Shawn, who was a mentor to Michaels and who ran this magazine for thirty-five years, corralling a gang of talented, needy egos in order to produce a weekly publication.

Then there’s Shakespeare.

The playwright, Michaels likes to note, first had to get his work approved by the Lord Chamberlain and the court—the network bosses of their day.

Then Shakespeare scrambled to get his show on the boards—not unlike a week at “S.N.L.,” hurtling toward Saturday.

Instead of 11:30 p.m., Shakespeare’s deadline was sunset; Michaels talks of him shaving minutes from “Hamlet” to end the play before dark.

Shakespeare also wrote expressly for the actors in his company.

“I know he had a Belushi,” Michaels told me. “That’s why Falstaff appears in three plays.”

Above all, Shakespeare was “the ultimate problem solver.”

Like Michaels, the Bard saw to it that, despite any obstacle, the show would go on.

This is drawn from “Lorne: The Man Who Invented Saturday Night Live.”

Susan Morrison

Morrison has been an editor at the magazine since 1997.

One night in 1976, right around the time I took the SATs, I found myself sitting in the audience in Studio 8H at Rockefeller Center for a broadcast of NBC’s “Saturday Night,” as it was then called.

Elliott Gould was the host, and the episode contained the famous “Star Trek” sketch, in which Gould, playing an NBC exec, walks onto the bridge of the Starship Enterprise and tells a startled Captain Kirk (John Belushi) that “Star Trek” is cancelled, before plucking the pointy prop ears off Spock (Chevy Chase).

I’m sure I missed most of the references in the show, but I distinctly remember the insiderish thrill of sitting in a working television studio, with cue-card guys in the aisles and cameras on cranes whizzing over my head.

It was the show’s first season, and I had no way of knowing then how it would intersect with my grownup life.

I also didn’t know that, somewhere uptown, this magazine’s editor, William Shawn, and the writer Lillian Ross were glued to their TV sets, watching.

They were early boosters of “S.N.L.,” and had taken its creator and producer, Lorne Michaels, under their wing.

Ross began a years-long reporting project, with the intent to profile Michaels for the magazine.

Shawn remained a comedy fan all his life; toward the end, his favorite movie was “This Is Spinal Tap.”

Next month, “S.N.L.” is set to celebrate fifty years of being on the air, the same week that The New Yorker will toast its hundredth anniversary.

It’s not as surprising as it might seem that these two venerable New York institutions would, over the years, occupy so much common ground.

When Michaels was plotting “S.N.L.,” he had The New Yorker in mind as a model, in terms of wanting sketches with distinct voices, whose writers would be recognizable by their styles.

(The reason he became a producer, he has said, “was to protect my writing, which was being fucked over by producers.”)

Shawn became a mentor to Michaels; both had to contend with corralling the swirling egos of needy creative types while meeting a regular weekly deadline.

Michaels developed a persona that is as elusive and mysterious as Shawn’s was; for both it had the effect of heightening people’s fascination with them.

(At one point, Michaels believed that he might even be named as Shawn’s successor.)

I met Lillian Ross in 1984, when I was working as a writers’ assistant on “The New Show,” a comedy hour that Michaels produced during a hiatus he took from “S.N.L.”

She was still at work on the profile, which got derailed when, three years later, Shawn was fired.

The show was short-lived, as was my television career.

I became a magazine editor, but the brilliant writers whom I met on “The New Show”—Jack Handey, Steve Martin, George Meyer, Sarah Paley—would stay in my stable of writers forever.

Another writer in my stable was Lillian Ross.

When I showed up in Lorne Michaels’s office ten years ago and told him of my plan to write a book about him (he never asked for a biography to be inflicted on him), he took a few deep breaths but then generously opened the door.

We had seen each other now and then over the years, often when I was with Lillian, who died in 2017.

For both of us, I think, my project had a feeling of kismet about it—me picking up a thread that she had left dangling.

Crossing the finish line with the book the same week that “S.N.L.” turns fifty and The New Yorker (which its founder, Harold Ross, called the “comic weekly”) turns a hundred was never part of the plan, but it feels just right.

Lorne Michaels Entrusts Harry Ransom Center With Historic SNL Collection

Newspaper advertisement for NBC's Saturday Night, 1975.

Lorne Michaels Collection.

News Release — January 15, 2025

AUSTIN, TX — Lorne Michaels, the creator and executive producer of Saturday Night Live, has donated his archive to the Harry Ransom Center at The University of Texas at Austin.

The Lorne Michaels Collection documents Michaels's career in television from his earliest writing for Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In and The Beautiful Phyllis Diller Show up through and including the nearly 50-year history of Saturday Night Live, the most Emmy Award-nominated show in television history.

The Lorne Michaels Collection provides insight into the creative and production processes behind Saturday Night Live, which, since its debut in 1975, has made a lasting imprint on American culture through its satiric, comedy sketches and memorable performances.

The show has launched the careers of many of the brightest comedic performers of their generation, including Gilda Radner, John Belushi, Eddie Murphy, Will Ferrell, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Bill Murray and in so doing left an indelible impact on our cultural landscape.

“Lorne Michaels has kept us up late and laughing for 50 years,” said Ransom Center Director Stephen Enniss, “and I'm confident for years to come his archive will be studied by students and researchers looking for insight into the social, political, and cultural history of our time. We are deeply grateful to him for entrusting this rich legacy to us.”

Founded in 1957, the Harry Ransom Center is internationally recognized as a premier institution for humanities research and learning.

The Lorne Michaels Collection will complement the Ransom Center's existing holdings in literature, film, television, and the performing arts.

When cataloging is complete, researchers, students, and anyone interested in learning more about Michaels' career will have access to a wealth of materials documenting the production and cultural impact of SNL and his other works.

“Live from New York and now home in Austin has a great ring to it,” said UT President Jay Hartzell.

“Lorne Michaels changed entertainment and shaped generations of American culture, and we could not be more grateful and excited that he has selected UT and the Harry Ransom Center as the home to much of his life's work.

Having five decades of Saturday Night Live on our campus creates unique learning and research opportunities for future generations, and especially our students.

It also enhances UT as a destination for the arts, consistent with our vision and goals.

We welcome Lorne and SNL to Texas.”

The Center is preparing a major exhibition, opening in Fall 2025, to offer the public a preview into this remarkable and socially relevant collection. Live From New York!

The Making of Lorne Michaels will highlight key moments from SNL's history and its role in reflecting and shaping societal discourse on politics, culture, and identity.

Within the collection are items such as the behind-the-scenes rehearsal notes for SNL, Coneheads dailies, and annotated Mean Girls scripts, showcasing iconic moments of Michaels's career.

The public will be able to get a closer view of the production process through drafts, correspondence, audiovisual materials, photographs, artifacts, and more.

The exhibition will be on view from September 20, 2025, through March 15, 2026.

The Ransom Center's dedication to preserving and promoting the arts and humanities ensures that the legacy of Saturday Night Live and Michaels's broader career will continue to inform and inspire future generations.

Through meticulous cataloging, conservation, teaching, and public programming, the Center will facilitate a deeper understanding of the significant contributions of Lorne Michaels and his many collaborators.

The collection is expected to be fully available for research in January 2026.

For more information about the Lorne Michaels Collection and the Harry Ransom Center, please visit

hrc.utexas.edu/lorne-michaels-collection.

youtube

"Yahoo! will give 'Saturday Night Live' a great opportunity to expand its current digital distribution," said Broadway Video chief Jack Sullivan.

youtube

LIVE FROM NEW YORK,

NOW LAYING DOWN ROOTS IN AUSTIN: The Harry Ransom Center has acquired the archives of Saturday Night Live creator Lorne Michaels.

#Youtube

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chariotenergy · 3 months ago

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Solar Panel Maintenance

With the rising popularity of solar energy, understanding how to maintain solar panels is becoming increasingly important. This comprehensive guide, updated for 2024, offers clear and actionable steps to keep your solar panels clean and efficient. Whether you're a seasoned solar panel owner or just considering making the switch, this guide will provide valuable information to maximize your solar power experience.

How can I tell if my solar power system is performing well?

Here are some key ways to tell if your solar power system is performing well:

Monitor Production:

Solar Meter: Most solar systems come with a solar meter that tracks the total kilowatt-hours (kWh) your panels generate. This is the most crucial data point. Ideally, you should see the kWh number steadily increasing during daylight hours. If the kWh isn't increasing or the increase is minimal, it might indicate a problem.

App Monitoring: Many solar providers offer apps to monitor your system's performance remotely. These apps can provide detailed data on daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly production.

Compare to Historical Data and Weather:

Track Trends: Keep track of your solar power generation over time. You can create a spreadsheet or use your monitoring app's historical data function. Normally, your solar panels should produce a certain amount of electricity on sunny days. By checking your system's monitoring data, you can compare how much power it's generating right now to how much it made on sunny days in the past. If you see a big drop in power generation compared to those sunny days, it could mean there's a problem with your panels.

Weather Impact: Solar panels naturally produce less energy on cloudy or rainy days. However, they still generate some power. If you notice a substantial drop in production that doesn't correlate with bad weather, it's a cause for investigation.

Physical Inspection:

Visual Check: Perform a periodic visual inspection of your solar panels. Look for any signs of physical damage, such as cracks, discoloration, or bird droppings that might be blocking sunlight.

Electric Bill:

Lower Bills: Solar panels are great because they can help you lower your electric bill. But if your electric bill hasn't gone down much after using solar panels for a while, there might be something wrong with them. Just remember, how much electricity you use can change throughout the year, so that might affect your bill too.

Pay Attention to System Alerts:

Error Codes: Some solar panel boxes (inverters) have lights or even show error messages. If you see any red blinking lights or confusing messages, check your solar panel manual first. If that doesn't help, call the company that installed your panels for advice.

Don't Hesitate to Consult Your Solar Provider:

Professional Expertise: That's a perfect and clear conclusion! It reminds the reader of the final step if they've gone through the troubleshooting tips and have lingering concerns. They're the experts and can help you figure out what's wrong and fix it.

To see how well your solar panels are working, you can check a few things:

Look at how much power they're making now and compare it to sunny days in the past. See if your electric bill has gone down since you got solar panels (but remember, how much electricity you use can change throughout the year). Give your panels a quick look to see if anything looks broken or dirty. Check the box that converts solar power to your home power (inverter) for any flashing lights or error messages. By keeping an eye on these things, you'll know if your solar panels are working their best.

To learn more information about Solar Provider, visit our website: https://chariotenergy.com/

#electricity #energy #solar #power #panels #service

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percystreak · 8 months ago

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Robbed Blind: Betcoin.ag and Playbetr.com Scammed Me Out of $20,000

In March 2022, I created an account on Betcoin.ag and deposited $1,000. For the past year, I have been betting on sports, mainly football and basketball. The betting limits on Betcoin.ag were not very high, so I also opened an account on Playbetr.com, a sister website, on December 31, 2022, which offered higher limits. My first deposit on Playbetr was $4,000, and I later deposited another $1,000-$2,000. Similarly, I deposited another $1,000 on Betcoin.ag, totaling around $7,000-$8,000 in BTC across both sites. Initially, I had no issues and was mainly betting on NBA games on Playbetr. Despite losing initially, I eventually won some bets on both sites.

However, when I attempted to withdraw my winnings—0.65 BTC from Playbetr and 0.21 BTC from Betcoin—both sites requested KYC verification. I provided full KYC, including my driving license, selfies, and address proof. My accounts were fully verified, but the next day, I was unable to log in to either site. Even when I could log in, I had no access to any account features. Both sites emailed me, accusing me of fraudulent actions and claiming the right to terminate my account and suspend payouts. They even offered to return my deposits, which I found laughable.

I have seen this happen to more people. They closed my accounts without explanation or evidence and ignored me for weeks. Despite emailing them since January 3, 2023, I have received no replies. Live chat support directed me to email for more information, offering no help. Playbetr, in particular, claims to be transparent and fair in public forums, but my experience tells a different story.

I want to understand why I have been scammed out of 0.85 BTC, almost $20,000. The accusations against me include syndicate play, match-fixing, late betting, unfaithful strategies, arbitrage, fraudulent actions, chargebacks, cheating, incorrect registration information, bankruptcy, money laundering, and using devices or software to place bets. They have not explained how I committed any of these actions. I am certain I did not. I only bet on NBA games, one of the biggest markets in the world, where cheating is virtually impossible due to the large limits.

I refuse to let this be ignored. I am willing to take legal action and pay any amount to resolve this. It's laughable they offered to return my deposits but ignored me when I mentioned it. I have seen other users contact Curacao courts and lawyers, and I am prepared to do the same. I will not let these scumbags get away with scamming innocent players.

Here are some links proving my claims:

Proof of my withdrawal requests: Gyazo Link, Gyazo Link

Screenshots of bets I won on Playbetr (FAIR, NORMAL NBA BETS): Gyazo Link, Gyazo Link

Video of me trying to access my Playbetr account after receiving the emails: YouTube Link

Video of me showing a conversation with a friend, proving I did not use Playbetr until before December 30, 2022: YouTube Link

Long story short:

Total amount 0.85 BTC (deposits + profits)

Accounts were blocked on January 3, 2023, after requesting withdrawals (over a month ago)

I did not break any rules

No reply on live chat or email (getting ignored)

No explanation or evidence to back up the accusations

#succession #across the spiderverse #ted lasso #taylor swift #welcome home

0 notes

paulatugah · 8 months ago

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Robbed Blind: Betcoin.ag and Playbetr.com Scammed Me Out of $20,000

Here are some links proving my claims:

Proof of my withdrawal requests: Gyazo Link, Gyazo Link

Screenshots of bets I won on Playbetr (FAIR, NORMAL NBA BETS): Gyazo Link, Gyazo Link

Video of me trying to access my Playbetr account after receiving the emails: YouTube Link

Video of me showing a conversation with a friend, proving I did not use Playbetr until before December 30, 2022: YouTube Link

Long story short:

Total amount 0.85 BTC (deposits + profits)

Accounts were blocked on January 3, 2023, after requesting withdrawals (over a month ago)

I did not break any rules

No reply on live chat or email (getting ignored)

No explanation or evidence to back up the accusations

#across the spiderverse #welcome home #succession #ted lasso #taylor swift #super mario

0 notes

louishawkins671 · 9 months ago

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The Ultimate Guide: North American IUL Reviews Decoded

Indexed Universal Life Insurance (IUL) is a type of permanent life insurance that offers both a death benefit and a cash value component. Unlike traditional universal life insurance, which earns interest based on a fixed rate set by the insurer, IUL policies allow policyholders to allocate cash value growth to a stock market index, such as the S&P 500. This unique feature provides the potential for higher returns while also offering downside protection.

Features and Benefits

Death Benefit:

Like other forms of life insurance, IUL policies provide a death benefit to beneficiaries upon the policyholder's death. The death benefit can be structured to provide financial protection for loved ones, pay off debts, or cover estate taxes.

Cash Value Accumulation:

IUL policies accumulate cash value over time, which can be accessed during the policyholder's lifetime. The cash value grows tax-deferred and can be used to supplement retirement income, fund college tuition, or meet other financial needs.

Index-linked Interest:

The cash value growth in IUL policies is tied to the performance of a stock market index. While the policy's cash value may fluctuate with the index, most policies include a "floor" that protects against market downturns, ensuring that the cash value does not decrease below a certain level.

Flexibility:

IUL policies offer flexibility in premium payments and death benefit options. Policyholders can adjust their premiums and death benefit amounts to accommodate changes in their financial situation or life circumstances.

Evaluating North American IUL Reviews

Financial Strength and Stability:

When reviewing North American IUL policies, it's essential to consider the financial strength and stability of the insurance company. Look for ratings from independent rating agencies such as A.M. Best, Standard & Poor's, and Moody's to assess the insurer's ability to meet its financial obligations.

Performance History:

Examine the historical performance of the index or indices linked to the IUL policy. While past performance is not indicative of future results, understanding how the index has performed over time can provide insight into potential cash value growth.

Policy Fees and Charges:

IUL policies may include various fees and charges, such as administrative fees, cost of insurance charges, and surrender charges. Review the policy illustration carefully to understand the impact of these fees on the policy's overall performance.

Policy Illustrations:

Request a policy illustration from the insurance company to understand how the policy may perform under different scenarios. Pay attention to assumptions such as interest crediting rates, index performance, and expenses to ensure that the illustration accurately reflects the policy's potential outcomes.

Pros and Cons of North American IUL

Pros:

Potential for Higher Returns: North American IUL policies offer the potential for higher returns compared to traditional universal life insurance due to index-linked interest crediting.

Downside Protection: The inclusion of a floor ensures that the policy's cash value does not decrease below a certain level, providing downside protection during market downturns.

Flexibility: Policyholders have the flexibility to adjust premiums and death benefit amounts to suit their changing needs and preferences.

Cons:

Complexity: IUL policies can be complex, with various features and options that may be difficult to understand for some consumers.

Market Risk: While IUL policies offer upside potential, they are still subject to market risk, and cash value growth may be limited during periods of poor index performance.

Costs: IUL policies may include higher fees and charges compared to other types of life insurance, which can impact the policy's overall performance.

Conclusion

North American IUL reviews offer a unique combination of death benefit protection, cash value accumulation, and potential for higher returns through index-linked interest crediting. When evaluating these policies, it's essential to consider factors such as the insurer's financial strength, historical index performance, policy fees and charges, and the overall pros and cons of IUL insurance. By conducting thorough research and consulting with a financial advisor, individuals can make informed decisions about whether North American IUL is the right choice for their insurance and financial planning needs.

#north american iul reviews

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9jaboizgistworld-blog · 9 months ago

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How To Find Student Loan For International Students In USA Without Cosigner

How to Find Student loan for international students in USA without cosigner? Getting a loan without a co-signer may seem impossible, but there are options. Some private lenders don't offer cosigned student loans - and online loan comparison tool can help you find one.

Information About Co-Signers

As an international student in the United States or coming to the United States, you usually need to have a signatory when applying for a loan. Co-signers must be a US citizen or US permanent resident who has lived in the US for the past two years and has good credit standing. Since most international students in the US have no credit history, a co-signer participates in the standard application process. Approval and rates are based on the creditworthiness of the co-signer and are required by law to repay the loan if you (the borrower) are unable to pay. If you don't have a creditworthy co-signer, you won't qualify for most international student loans. However, there are still a few options for international students, and on this page, we give you the information you need for private international student loans that do not require a co-signer.

Student Loan For International Students In USA Without Cosigner

While most lenders typically require a cosigner, international students attending certain colleges and universities in the United States and Canada can apply without a signer. If you cannot find a co-signer, this type of loan may be a good option for you. With unsigned loans, the lender doesn't look at your loan history, but rather your academic success and career path. Some factors they take into account are your home country, graduation date, and the school you attend. Private international student loans are offered by non-governmental lenders. Several private lenders offer loans for international students, each with its own eligibility requirements. However, only select lenders offer loans for international students who do not require a co-signer. Before choosing a lender, it is important to do your research and find a lender that can offer you a loan that suits your needs. You can use online international student loan comparison tool to get information about the student loan companies that work with international students in just a few clicks.

Find And Compare Loans Without A Co-Signer

If you are an international student and want to explore the possibility of a Student loan for international students in USA without cosigner, you can use loan comparison tool to see if your school has a loan. Then you can research the conditions of the loan and apply directly through the lender. If you are looking for a loan, here are some things to keep in mind: - How much can you borrow? - The interest rate (even if it is fixed or variable) - The repayment period - When and how will your money be paid out? After your Student loan for international students in USA without cosigner application has been reviewed, you will be given details about your loan, including your interest rate and the amount you can borrow. These points vary depending on the lender and your situation. For example, unsigned loans through one of partners have a flat rate of 11.99% to 13.99% and allow you to borrow up to $25,000 per study period or a total of $50,000. In your application, you must indicate how much you want to borrow. The approved amount along with your set interest rate will be assigned to you by the lender after reviewing your application. When you get a loan, the money is paid directly to your college or university. The whole process usually takes about 6 weeks, so you should plan accordingly. First, use the international student loan comparison tool to see if any loans are available at your school, including co-signer loans. Read the full article

#FastaLoans #StudentLoanForInternationalStudentsInUSAWithoutCosigner

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ewortheagleman · 1 year ago

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The Fundamentals of Property Administration

Acquiring buildings for the objective of leasing them out has actually become an excellent income for some individuals. This write-up has a look at the essentials of rental monitoring for those that are interested in entering this endeavor.

What is property management?

Residential or commercial property or rental monitoring, as the name recommends, is the process of organizing property, be it for property, commercial, or industrial purposes.

Supervisors are either the proprietors of the residential properties being offered for rental or third-party individuals who are charged with supervising the care and maintenance of the rental residential properties in behalf of the owners.

What do residential property managers do?

Building and rental managers are provided numerous tasks, which can include:

Maintenance of the building. No occupant will certainly want to stay at a ramshackle residence or area, so it is the supervisor's responsibility to see to it that the residential or commercial properties that are being used for leasing are well-maintained.

Obtaining occupants. Among the major obligations of residential property or rental managers is to make sure that the rental residential properties are inhabited by occupants, which is why they are also responsible for locating good lessees that will not only occupy these residential properties, however care for these well.

Collecting rent. Not just do supervisors require to ensure that the correct amount of rental costs are being paid by the renters, they will certainly additionally need to make certain that they are paying these consistently. Building managers must always be on the lookout for lessees who make delayed settlements.

Taking care of any problems that may be experienced by the renters regarding the residential or commercial property. There are numerous concerns that may be experienced by renters throughout the course of their lease, such as damaged pipes, peeling paint, and other such upkeep problems. The supervisor is accountable for seeing that these concerns are resolved promptly and successfully.

Is it better to do residential or commercial property management yourself or work with somebody to take care of the residential or commercial property for you?

It depends upon where you are, since there are some states that have imposed regulations on that can function as home managers. In many states, just those who are accredited property brokers can work as residential property managers. Alternatively, those that aren't realty brokers can work under these professionals in order to proceed exercising.

Practicality-wise, it's better for those who already have experience in monitoring of property to keep the residential property and deal with every one of the essential tasks in handling it instead of a person that does not have that much knowledge in it. This is due to the fact that someone that has currently taken care of homes in the past will certainly already know what feasible problems or troubles may be experienced by the occupants, https://upravlenienaimotibg.com and will certainly hence be able to think of treatments to fix these.

Building administration can be very successful, however this isn't always the very best career course for you. If you want entering this market, make sure to check what your choices are and do some study about this so you can much better prepare on your own for the job awaiting you.

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rebeccaafeld · 1 year ago

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The Essentials of Building Monitoring

Buying buildings for the objective of renting them out has come to be a great income source for some individuals. This write-up has a look at the basics of rental management for those who want entering this endeavor.

What is residential property monitoring?

Residential or commercial property or rental monitoring, as the name suggests, is the process of taking charge of property, be it for household, business, or industrial objectives.

Supervisors are either the owners of the buildings being supplied for rental or third-party individuals that are tasked with overseeing the treatment, Този интернет сайт and maintenance of the rental residential or commercial properties on behalf of the owners.

What do residential or commercial property managers do?

Residential property and rental managers are offered a number of tasks, which can consist of:

Upkeep of the residential property. No lessee will certainly wish to stay at a broken-down home or location, so it is the manager's duty to make sure that the buildings that are being used for rental are well-kept.

Obtaining occupants. One of the primary responsibilities of property or rental supervisors is to ensure that the rental properties are inhabited by tenants, which is why they are likewise responsible for discovering excellent occupants who will certainly not just inhabit these residential or commercial properties, yet look after these well.

Collecting rental fee. Not just do managers need to make sure that the correct amount of rental charges are being paid by the renters, they will certainly likewise require to guarantee that they are paying these frequently. Home supervisors ought to always watch for tenants who make delayed settlements.

Handling any kind of issues that may be experienced by the tenants concerning the home. There are a number of problems that might be experienced by occupants throughout the program of their lease, such as busted pipes, peeling paint, and various other such upkeep issues. The supervisor is accountable for seeing that these concerns are dealt with swiftly and effectively.

Is it far better to do property administration yourself or hire somebody to handle the residential or commercial property for you?

It depends upon where you are, because there are some states that have actually imposed guidelines on that can work as home managers. In a lot of states, only those who are accredited property brokers can function as home managers. Additionally, those who aren't realty brokers can function under these professionals in order to continue practicing.

Practicality-wise, it's better for those who already have experience in management of residential or commercial property to keep the residential or commercial property and look after all of the necessary jobs in handling it as opposed to someone that doesn't have that much knowledge in it. This is because somebody that has already handled residential properties in the past will currently recognize what feasible concerns or issues may be experienced by the lessees, and will certainly hence be able to create remedies to fix these.

Residential property administration can be extremely successful, yet this isn't always the best job course for you. If you have an interest in entering this sector, make certain to check what your alternatives are and do some study about this so you can much better prepare yourself for the job awaiting you.

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chariotenergy · 3 months ago

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Ways To Tell That Your Solar Power Is Performing Well

Here are some key ways to tell if your solar power system is performing well:

Monitor Production:

Solar Meter: Most solar systems have a solar meter that tracks the total kilowatt-hours (kWh) your panels generate. This is the most crucial data point. Ideally, you should see the kWh number steadily increasing during daylight hours. If the kWh isn't growing or the increase is minimal, it might indicate a problem.

App Monitoring: Many solar providers offer apps to remotely monitor your system's performance. These apps can provide detailed data on daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly production.

Compare to Historical Data and Weather:

Physical Inspection:

Visual Check: Perform a periodic visual inspection of your solar panels. Look for any signs of physical damage, such as cracks, discoloration, or bird droppings that might be blocking sunlight.

Electric Bill:

Pay Attention to System Alerts:

Don't Hesitate to Consult Your Solar Provider:

To see how well your solar panels are working, you can check a few things:

Check our WEBSITE at https://chariotenergy.com/

#electricity #energy #solar #power #panels #service

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robertnelson2-blog · 2 years ago

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What is the best rule prior to buying a pre-owned car?

On the off chance that you're on the lookout for a pre-owned car, congrats! You're going to set aside a ton of cash. Yet, before you begin looking, it means quite a bit to understand what you're getting into. There are a couple of things to remember while buying a trade-in vehicle. To start with, you really want to know your financial plan. What amount could you at any point reasonably bear to spend on a vehicle? Second, you really want to properly investigate things. What sort of vehicle do you need? What are your absolute necessities? Furthermore, finally, you should be ready for the exchange interaction. In this blog entry, we will investigate every one of the three of these points exhaustively and give you the best rule for buying a pre-owned car. By and by, you'll be a specialist regarding the matter and prepared to track down your fantasy vehicle! Auto house superstore used cars

Properly investigate things

Before you buy a pre-owned car, doing your research is significant. You will need to find out however much as could reasonably be expected about the vehicle, like its set of experiences, mileage, and any past mishaps or harm. It is likewise really smart to have a technician investigate the vehicle before you get it.

Have an unmistakable financial plan as a primary concern

While hoping to purchase a pre-owned vehicle, having an unmistakable financial plan in mind is significant. This will assist you with reducing your pursuit and track down a vehicle that meets both your requirements and your financial plan.

There are a couple of interesting points while setting your spending plan for a pre-owned vehicle. The first is the price tag of the vehicle. This is the sum you will be paying for the actual vehicle, and can change enormously contingent upon the make, model, and age of the vehicle.

Then, you really want to figure expenses and enlistment charges. These can add up rapidly, so make certain to remember them for your spending plan. At last, remember about protection. This is a significant cost that should be thought about while buying a trade-in vehicle.

By remembering these variables, you can make a reasonable spending plan for your pre-owned vehicle buy. This will assist you with tracking down the right vehicle for you without burning through every last dollar.

Get a vehicle history report

A vehicle history report (VHR), likewise alluded to as a vehicle history report, is a fundamental device while thinking about the acquisition of a trade-in vehicle. A VHR contains data about a vehicle's personality, past proprietors, administration and fix history, and mishap history. This data can assist you with settling on an educated conclusion about the decision about whether to buy a specific trade-in vehicle.

While requesting a VHR, make certain to utilize the vehicle's 17-digit Vehicle ID Number (VIN). The VIN is commonly situated on the dashboard, on the driver's side entryway point of support, or on the edge of the windshield. When you have the VIN, you can arrange a VHR from quite a few organizations that offer this support.

While looking into a VHR, give close consideration to the part on mishaps. This segment will detail any occurrences that have been accounted for to the organization giving the report. Regardless of whether a mishap isn't recorded on the report, it doesn't imply that the vehicle was not associated with one. In the event that you feel somewhat uncertain about the exactness of the mishap data contained in a VHR, you ought to request extra documentation from the dealer, for example, police reports or protection claims structures. Used car dealerships Calgary

Different segments of a VHR are likewise significant, yet ought to be viewed as considering all suitable data prior to settling on a conclusion about buying a trade-in vehicle. For instance, on the off chance that a vehicle has had different proprietors, this could be demonstrative of issues with the vehicle. Similarly, if

Test drive the vehicle

On the off chance that you are determined to buy a pre-owned car, it is critical to step through it for an exam drive first. This will allow you an opportunity to figure out the vehicle and ensure that it is an ideal choice for you. Here are a things to remember while test driving a pre-owned vehicle:

- Try to go on a wide range of streets, including parkways and city roads. This will provide you with a smart thought of how the vehicle handles in various driving circumstances.

- Focus on how the vehicle feels while speeding up, slowing down, and turning. Does all that vibe smooth, or are there any odd commotions or vibrations?

- Observe any advance notice lights that come on during your test drive. On the off chance that any of them stay illuminated subsequent to turning over the motor, that could be a sign of a difficult issue.

- Test the elements in general and controls inside the vehicle to ensure they are working appropriately. This incorporates the sound system, environment control, route framework, and so on.

By observing these rules, you can be sure that you are pursuing the most ideal choice conceivable while buying a trade-in vehicle.

Arranging while buying a trade-in vehicle

While arranging while buying a trade-in vehicle, make certain to:

-have a firm comprehension of what you can manage the cost of prior to starting to arrange

-realize the honest assessment of the vehicle you are keen on and leave on the off chance that the dealer isn't willing to meet your cost

-be ready to arrange in light of the state of the vehicle, in addition to the cost

-remain even headed and considerate all through the discussion cycle

In the event that you observe these rules, you will be bound to get a fair plan on a trade-in vehicle.

Conclusion

There are a couple of things to remember while buying a pre-owned car. To begin with, you will need to ensure that you get a vehicle history report so you can check whether the vehicle has been in any mishaps or had any serious issues. You will likewise need to take the vehicle for a test drive and have it investigated by a technician prior to pursuing your last choice. By keeping these basic rules, you should rest assured that you are getting a quality trade-in vehicle that will work well for you for a long time to come.

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huihuiheart · 2 years ago

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Under the Stars - Do Hanse

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Victon Masterlist

Pairing: Camboy! Hanse x Cam! Afab Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Summary: Everyone has certain needs, but in his world of money and lust Hanse surely didn’t need love. Or so he was convinced until he paired up with you.

Warnings: Camboy/camgirl themes, masturbation, Hanse is a little bit mean (in only the best of ways I have problems okay), some teasing sexual and verbal, some manhandling, dom/sub themes, oral (fem receiving), rough sex, fingering, protected sex, some cum play (cum eating), dirty talk, degradation, cursing, sex toys, overstimulation, crying, a little pain, squirting, praise, dirty talk, use of the terms doll and sweetheart, drooling.

Word Count: 5395

Hanse’s brow was raised, continuing to silently sip on his glass of whiskey as he listened to Sejun speak as both a friend and manager. He’d been listening to the man rattle off this plan for the past half hour at this point and frankly he was running out of ways to rephrase his suggestion. It almost pained Hanse to watch at this point...almost, but then again if he was going to suggest what he did Hanse was gonna let him suffer just a little for it. Eventually however, enough was enough, Hanse sighs and puts the glass down.

“You know I like to work alone, Sejun, so why are you asking?” Hanse asks, arms crossing over his chest as he watches nonchalantly as Sejun huffs, arms dropping dramatically to his sides.

“Please Hanse, she needs to catch a break. She’s good, she’s just stuck in the early phase. The one where its only the same old creeps every time. Just help her build a bit of a rep that’s all I ask. She could really use it.” Sejun practically begs and while it wasn’t really Hanse’s thing he couldn’t really say no to his friend like this.

“Send me her profile. I’m not agreeing to anything, but I’ll take a look at her at least.” Hanse concedes at least that much, getting his friend to back off slightly for the time being, “Why are you so invested in her though?”

“She’s my newest client!” Sejun beams, “Well I guess I should say she’s my second client considering before it was just you.”

“What? Did I not pay well enough? Cause if that’s the real issue I can fix that.” Hanse offers still somewhat looking for a way out, to no avail.

“No. No, nothing like that. I just wanted to start branching out some and she seemed like the perfect person. Like I said though she needs help getting out there. Come on Hanse, consider it a favor to me.” Sejun’s comments make Hanse roll his eyes, mumbling something about how he never should have hired his friend.

“Hey I said I’d look at her profile or whatever. Get off my ass and I’ll think about it. I’m not making any promises though.” Hanse tries to wave him off again, but with Sejun it seems as though that’s rather pointless as he thanks the man as if he’d already fully agreed to any and everything.

Still Hanse had agreed to take a look at your profile and so he would. At the very least he might be able to lend you some advice through his friend and perhaps be enough to end Sejun’s begging even if he didn’t quite agree. Sejun had sent the link, all he had to do now was click around the familiar website to take in all the various aspects of your profile while savoring his whiskey as he did any night off...and a few on.

He had to hand it to you, for someone so new your profile was very well put together. Though perhaps Sejun had helped you with that as well. Between saying and showing just enough to tease to interacting with the right amount, and even scheduling things when you should expect a decent amount of traction your profile looked good. Which did peak the man’s curiosity...why weren’t you getting more attention? Scrolling through posts he weeded through pictures of lingerie, toys, aesthetic images, and even kinky texts to find an image of your body. Sucking a breath in through his teeth as he brought his glass up again, throat suddenly running dry. You were gorgeous, breathtaking even, so there was no reason in hell or on earth itself you shouldn’t be drowning in followers or even notice. Yet, he hadn’t heard or seen you anywhere. Which only left him one last thing to check, a stream. He pulled up a recording of a past stream of yours to see if perhaps there was something about being on camera that you couldn’t nail down, only to find nothing yet again. Falling back in his chair with a huff, noticing that he had started to grow hard even. Something that he often had much more control over by this point, that fact speaking volumes about you. He was stumped though, not knowing what advice to give his friend. Hanse pulls his phone out with a sigh knowing he might just regret this, but pulls up his friend’s name anyway to send him a text.

Hanse: Go ahead and send her my profile. Shoot the idea by her. If she’s down then we’ll MEET. This whole thing is going to be on my terms though and my terms only.

Sejun: Of course! I already talked to her about connecting her to someone though, she seems down, but I’ll send your profile her way.

Hanse shakes his head deciding to go distract himself from the possible regrettable decision he just made before he could overthink it too much. Meanwhile you were getting a late night email from Sejun, your newest helper and manager. Noticing how he talks up his friend and client Hanse, including his profile and the potential to work together soon even. Sure you had been onboard with Sejun’s suggestion, trusting him completely on that. Yet now you suddenly felt nervous over the fact there was a potential option for that. Still, you decided to open the link and take a look for yourself.

Your first thought is shock, more in the sense that his presence seems to be the polar opposite of yours. Not that that necessarily means anything, being on cam is about putting on a show whether it’s truly you or not. Still the man was breathtaking and looked like trouble compared to your more sweet, innocent image. When Sejun had suggested it you expected another person with a soft image, not that you were complaining by any means. No, in fact, maybe you should thank him for this. Perhaps mixing some trouble in was exactly what you needed. At the very least it could get you some attention. Though this man’s screaming presence of danger was doing anything but scare you off, only enticing you more.

Y/N: Sejun, set up the meeting. You have my schedule and all. Just don’t let me meet me alone in a back alley or something creepy. Cause I might actually agree to do some questionable shit in the presence of that man.

Sejun: I told you! See I know what you like better than you even do! You can trust me though, I wouldn’t suggest him if I thought you’d be in any real danger. Though I will warn, he might be a little...mean.

Y/N: Mean can be hot... if it’s in the right way. Either way I’ll meet with him and if it’s not something I can handle then we’ll call it off. I trust you though. 😊

You hadn’t lied to Sejun about your trust in him. Still, the way butterflies were going every which way in your gut right now over just the thoughts of what this man might be like had you nervous. As if you were fawning over your first high school crush and scared to lose your virginity to him or something, utterly ridiculous kind of nervous. Especially for a camgirl. This was a business meeting goddamn it, between two working and professional adults. Very attractive adults mind you, but that shouldn’t be enough to have you restless through the night. Logical reasoning didn’t seem to win out this time though and so your eyes drifted over to your bedside table, pulling out a vibrator and finding the perfect video off that profile to pair with it. Even if you and him didn’t enter a business relationship, you were quite thoroughly fucked, this man would be your new addiction. Especially if you slept this well after getting off to his videos was more than just a one time thing.

Sejun wasted no time in coordinating arrangements between you two, making a group chat to send out date, time, and location. Letting you both finally get each other’s name. Though your heart stopped for a moment when Hanse got adamant in the group chat that he would meet you alone without Sejun’s pushy personality there to be any sort of outside influence. Instead that you’d both fill him in once you had met and talked one on one. You still trusted that Sejun wouldn’t put you in danger and that if anything did happen he would come running at the simplest of texts, but that didn’t mean you weren’t anxious over the thought of meeting Hanse like this.

Stepping into the hotel you and Hanse were planning to meet in you knew there was no going back now. Picking up your key from the front desk and making your way up to the room, opening it to silence and so you had to will your voice into working and speak up. Not that it entirely kept the nervous tremble out of it.

“Hello? Hanse, are you here?” You question as you shut the door behind you and glance around as you start to step in.

“I am. Just getting comfortable. Don’t be shy.” Hanse calls from deep inside the room, giving you a direction to go towards only to stop in your tracks when you actually see him.

Hanse was lounging back on the couch in the room, letting the setting sun cast in through the window and over his bare skin. Chest and legs bare and tattoos on display with simply a blanket haphazardly thrown over his lap. A glass of whiskey in hand as he raises a brow at your stunned form, snickering around the rim of the glass as he brings it up for another sip before holding it up in gesture.

“Would you like a glass? You seem... tense.” He offers picking up on your body language rather easily and trying to ease you into this setting. Even if he wasn’t necessarily all that interested in having anything to do with you he had no intentions of being cruel.

“Slightly... more so stunned than otherwise. A glass might help though, you’re right.” You agree with a small nod, watching as the man languidly begins to move again. Gasping softly, yet not enough to go unheard it seemed, when he stands and the blanket falls to show that he had nothing on at all.

“Stunned? And why is that?” The shit eating grin on Hanse’s face showed he wasn’t entirely clueless to the reason why, but his ego wanted to hear you say it. Watching closely as he poured you a glass wondering if he was going to scare you away like this.

“I didn’t quite expect you to be so...forward.” You admit, feeling as if your skin was burning as you reached out to take the glass from him. As hot as you felt in this moment however, you weren’t going anywhere, not until you saw this through.

“I assumed you did your research and so there would be no reason to hide anything. So why not be fully comfortable?” Hanse shrugs as he takes his seat again, not bothering to put the blanket back over himself this time however, “Besides, I’m a very blunt, forward person. Is that going to be a problem?”

You shake your head, taking a gulp of the whiskey and letting it burn down your throat and hopefully kick in as you will yourself to go sit on the couch along with him, just at a bit of a distance still.

“It’s not. Blunt can be good, you know where you stand. I like that. Besides I had no idea at all what to expect, so I probably would have been shocked no matter what.” You out yourself slightly, causing Hanse to chuckle. He had to admit though you were handling all of this better than he expected.

“Well I had some time to settle and get comfortable. I’ll let you have the same. You tell me when you’re ready and then we’ll talk business.” He extends the courtesy to you, watching as you remove your jacket and shoes, moving to somewhat mirror his stance and lay back a little bit.

“I’m fine, we can go ahead and talk now.” You assure him, hearing how he hums the glass and finding that even that is attractive. Even if now is not the time to be getting turned on, not that he was helping that with his appearance currently. You were proud of how well you had done focusing on his face however.

“So I know what Sejun had said, but the reason I wanted to get you alone was to ask you what you’re really expecting from this if we were to work together? Don’t bullshit me either, I’ll know.” Hanse watches you closely as you sip the drink before leaning your head against the back of the couch.

“Because I’m tired of seemingly wasting my time. I’m not miserable camming, but like doing anything long enough without really being appreciated takes a toll. Especially when the whole point it to be noticed.” You respond with a shrug, “I’m not a quitter don’t get me wrong, but it was starting to get to me. So if I’m going to keep doing this then I need to do it right. That’s what I want to get from this. Maybe neither of us ever shows in the other’s videos, but if you can just help me with advice or anything so I know I’m actually doing this shit right...then that’s what I want.”

“You’re not just here to make money getting your back blown?” He can’t help but to tease watching you almost choke in shock at his question, despite picking up on how genuine you seemed to be, “Seriously though, advice or assistance I can do easily. Perhaps even a collaboration, I’d just like to make sure you and I are on the same page though.”

“Of course. I’m fine with that too. I just know that just because someone shows it all off on the internet doesn’t mean they wanna fuck someone they don’t really know.” You take a turn at speaking bluntly now causing Hanse to raise a brow before setting down his glass as he finishes his drink.

“I mean I’m a rather sexual person and I figured I wasn’t the only one with needs so why not make some money off it. After all... I’m not exactly shy.” He snickers holding his hand out to take your glass as well when he notices you’re finished.

“Don’t we all. I do wonder though...and if this is too personal feel free to pass up an answer, I just don’t know anyone else who cams to ask. Does it ever get lonely? I mean I’ve been single a long time and this covers those needs, but I can’t image its an easy thing for someone to accept when you start dating them.” Your question catches Hanse off guard for a moment, looking over you for a moment as if to gauge if you had hidden reasons for asking.

When he doesn’t pick up on anything he decides to humor you with an answer after the honesty you’ve given him so far, “No. Well not to me anyways. I’m not for all that mushy, gushy, love shit. I gave it a try and learned that it’s a lie. A way for people to manipulate and take advantage of each other and I refuse to be naïve enough to believe in it anymore. I find other ways to care for my needs and between that and having friends my life is complete.”

Hanse sighs, noticing your stunned expression again, the way you blink over at him wide eyed in response. Your face falls slightly, almost becoming a puppy dog face and he shakes his head slightly not waiting for you to speak up again before he does.

“Don’t tell me you believe in that fairytale love story shit. Why would you need any of that crap?” Hanse crosses his arms watching your expression fall further, almost feeling perhaps he had been a little too harsh with his words when it seems as if you might cry.

“I mean I don’t need it. I don’t have it now and I’m living life just fine and happy... that doesn’t stop me from wanting it though. If that’s not for you then fine, live like that. It’s not for me though.” You speak softly, enough so that Hanse realizes he did overstep slightly, but not enough to make you cry.

“Fair enough.” He backs down, not sure why he cares if your feelings were to be hurt by his view, but finding that he does, “Would you like to talk about anything else? Or should I go ahead and update Sejun? I’ll show you the email before I send it so you can confirm.”

“That’s fine. If we think of anything else we can shoot a text or meet up again.” You agree, Hanse picking up on how you still seem to shrink back some now that you’ve grown quiet in response yet letting it be. Who was he to care anyways? He didn’t know you that well. Besides, it was probably just a physical response to finding you attractive and not his problem.

Hanse drafting up an email to Sejun outlining what the two of you had briefly talked about in terms of an agreement, handing you the laptop after to allow you to look over it and make adjustments as you saw fit before he sent it off. Allowing a moment of silence to settle for a moment before deciding to take a chance, wanting to test something out and see if that was just a physical response.

“You know... the room is booked for the whole night so we might as well make use of it don’t you think?” Hanse’s inquiry makes you pause, staring at him for a moment to see if maybe you were understanding incorrectly or not.

“And just what are you implying Hanse?” You raise a brow at him causing him to lean into your space with a deep chuckle.

“What do you think? After all, I said I was a sexual person. Plus we both agreed we’re not opposed to working together like that and we’re attractive, so why not consider this a chance for a test run?” Hanse plops down on the edge of the bed now, leaning back onto his palms as he watches your reaction.

Your actions contradicting as you shake your head, but move close to him, “I can’t believe I’m about to agree to this when you just fucking insulted me the way you did.”

“What? You want me to make it up to you now?” He can’t help but be smug as he looks up at you when you step between his legs, “Give me ten minutes and I bet you won’t even remember your name, let alone anything you’d have to be mad at me over.”

“Oh is that so? And what if I said I don’t believe you? You might know how to cam, but that doesn’t mean you know how to fuck. Who says you even know your way around a woman?” You seem to strike a nerve, which may have slightly been the point so as to get him back a little bit for his earlier attack towards you.

Hanse growls under his breath, though whether it was a remark towards you or simply a sound of irritation you couldn’t decipher as he instantly reaches to pull your top off. Fully intending to follow through on the light hearted promise he made more just messing around, but now a matter of pride due to your challenge. Your pants are quick to follow, it crosses your mind for a fraction of a second that perhaps Hanse had some intention of this all along seeing as how he had been naked from the start. Not that the man in question leaves you anytime to ponder over that. Hanse stands while his hands grip at your hips, quickly swapping your positions so that you’re on the bed with him standing now. Shoving you back onto the bed a tad harsh, a bit from irritation as his pride acts up, but also due to knowing that as you fall back no harm will come with the bed behind you.

Hanse’s hands moving down from your hips to your legs, fingertips just barely grazing over the flesh before firmly gripping your knees. He spreads your legs, eyes focusing in on your clothed cunt. Getting down on his knees he leans in closer, hands pressing up your inner thighs and spreading you out as much as he could, not wanting to leave you any room to move away as he places a kiss to your panties. Pressing his tongue flat against your entrance letting it sit there as saliva pools and mixes with your arousal to form a wet patch rather quickly. Hanse moves to slowly drag his tongue up then only stopping again once he gets to your clit, letting the fabric grow damp before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, the sensation overwhelming you for a minute. You’re suddenly very grateful that he had taken a second before doing that as even the wet fabric rubbed against your clit slightly rough. Not that you thought you should expect anything different from the little you did know about Hanse. His tongue pressing against the bud while it’s still trapped in his mouth, putting more pressure before swirling around it for a minute. Pulling away with a pop as he looks up at you moving one hand away from your thigh and holding it out to you.

“Give me your hand.” He requests leaning his head against your thigh as he waits for you to listen. You raise a brow not sure what he was wanted, but reaching out anyways letting him guide your hand between your legs, having you pull your panties aside. “Stay just like that. Out of my way.”

Without waiting another second his mouth is on you again, tongue teasing your entrance before curling in as he watches your reactions. He presses closer with each movement, his nose brushing against your clit and when it makes you cry out, fingers tightening around your panties to not reach out and tug at your hair he grins against you. Deciding that while he was planning on breaking you down as quickly as possible he could tease just a hair when he noticed what you liked, making sure you knew just how good he could treat you. Pressing into you a little firmer before shaking his head and moaning against you when you tense up as a result.

“Cum on my tongue sweetheart, you know you want to. Don’t worry, I won’t stop not until you’re shaking.” Hanse’s voice is almost gentle in comparison to his actions as he mumbles them against your core, the vibrations from each word spoken deeply causing a sharp spike of pleasure to shoot up your spine. Arching for him in effect, free hand reaching up by your head to grip at the sheets as your moans increase in volume.

Part of you hated giving in so easily to him, but you were so ill-prepared for how good he’d actually be that you were helpless to the pleasure he drowned you in now. Hanse knew just how to pull the string tight and make it snap so quickly it seemed as if he didn’t even have to try. Pulling back once you cum, just enough to stand though. He pushes away the hand gripping your panties replacing it with his and forcefully pulling them down your legs before taking his place between them again. His grin shit eating as he looks down into your glazed over eyes.

“Look at how pliant you are for me. Talking all this shit just to be a good girl the second someone touches your slutty little cunt, huh?” He toys with you licking over his middle two fingers before slipping them down and into your cunt with one smooth motion. When he curls them just right to make you arch again, withering in sensitivity his other hand slips under your back to unclasp your bra. “And you thought I wouldn’t know how to treat a woman. Are you eating your words now baby?”

“F-Fuck you Hanse!” You grit out between clenched teeth, he knows it’s not from anger however, but instead you trying to hold back your sounds.

“Oh you will sweetheart, when I feel like it though.” Hanse chuckles, fingers pulling out and teasingly pinching at your clit before he walks away to go get a condom from the bedside table, tossing a wand vibrator besides you as well making you gasp.

“You fucker! You fucking planned this didn’t you?” Your tone is breathy, eyes widening at him in disbelief as he simply shrugs, rolling the condom on.

“I wouldn’t say planned, but I wanted to be hopefully prepared in case it were to.” He admits, thumb moving to rub your clit and line himself up. He hesitates, however, due to the way his heart stutters looking into your eyes when they glaze over with lust and pleasure again. Not sure why his chest suddenly felt tighter than his pants would have in this situation, yet he almost felt panicked at the thought of looking into your eyes right now. So he wouldn’t, playing it off instead as he flips you over onto your stomach, feet hitting the floor as you bend over the edge of the bed.

He teases his tip through your folds as he leans over you, reaching for the vibrator he had tossed besides you earlier, clicking it on and placing it into your hand before guiding that to your clit as he slowly pushes in inch by delicious fucking inch, “I’m going to fucking break you doll. Fuck you so good you’ll be begging me to do shows with you ever night from now on.”

You were already falling apart beneath him before he even moved, Hanse’s free hand gripping at your hair and pressing your face further into the sheets when you moan out so loud that they might be hearing from the hotel for noise. Not that he cared much, but perhaps you had dignity to spare. The thought making him question his motives yet again, after all, why the fuck did he care?

“Please.” Your choked out sob caught his attention, leaning down to catch a glimpse of the tears glittering in your eyes and he swore he almost busted right then despite the amount of control he’d built over the last few years.

“This doesn’t work like that doll. You gotta speak up, tell me what you want sweetheart. Be good enough and maybe, just maybe, I’ll be nice and actually give it to you before I get what I want.” He mocked as if you didn’t both want the same thing in this moment.

“Please move Hanse. Fuck! Please, I’m begging. I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t barely walk out this room. Fuck me so well my body commits it to memory.” Your tone of voice along with the way your hips wiggle just slightly convinces him enough, and while typically he’d be the type to punish someone for this you were being too good right now for him to care. No, he’d have all the time to mold you into his perfect little submissive on camera later. For now this was enough for him.

His hips started moving quick and hard, drilling your hips into the bed with each thrust. Hitting deep enough that just the slightly twinge of pain sounded in through the ringing pleasure, something you found yourself loving though. Each roll of his hips making your free hand claw at the sheets as you felt a high rush towards you quicker than you thought was possible to stop even if everything else did in this moment. Hanse noticed too, feeling you getting impossibly tighter around him.

“Let go doll, but don’t move the toy away. You’re going to give me one more before we’re done, like the good girl you are for me now.” His tone softens with you, seeing the way you seem to shatter beneath him, leaning down to kiss your temple, something he never did. The action seemed to be what set you right off though, Hanse praising you through it, “There you go. You’re so perfect when you cum on my cock for me. Give me one more doll.”

Hanse reaches down to slip his fingers between yours when he notices you clawing at the sheet again, gripping onto your hand tightly while his face stays close to yours watching how you’re drooling now. His free hand sliding over yours on the vibrator again, noticing how it trembles along with your thighs and wanting to make sure you’re soaking up every ounce of possible pleasure right to the very end.

“Come on sweetheart, cum for me again. I’m about to cum too, but you first.” He watches you nod blindly, cumming around him with a gush of wetness squirting around his cock and he pulls out leaving the vibrator there until he’s drained every drop from you. He’s quick to toss it away so as not to hurt you, not knowing your limits quite yet. His condom goes next, pumping his cock a few times before he’s cumming hot ribbons across your back and ass making you twitch at the sudden feeling.

Hanse shudders at the sight before pulling it together again, well mostly. He can’t help but lean down though, tongue licking over your form and scooping up his cum. He gently cradles your neck, guiding you into a kiss in your dazed state, kissing you deeply to share his cum with you. Feeling pride swell in his chest for some reason when you swallow.

“There’s a good girl. Stay here and take deep breaths. I’ll be right back.” Hanse assures you taking note of your whiny nature and going to get a warm washcloth along with a water bottle. Coming back to look over you, while he wasn’t emotional he wasn’t heartless especially not with someone who submitted to him. Taking note of how it seemed you had subbed out a bit at this point and using cleaning you with a few scattered kisses as a way of assessing how far you had dropped and helping start to ease you back.

Hanse wraps a good blanket around you before carrying you to the couch, giving you the water and bringing the snack box from the other side of the room so you could get what you wanted while he changed most the ruined sheets with the spares he had requested due to “getting cold”, as if it wasn’t going to be obvious what you both were up to. Carrying you back to bed and tucking you in before getting under the covers with you, watching you snuggle into his side and blinking owlishly.

“Hey...you with me?” Hanse questions softly, running his fingers through your hair and gently working out some knots from earlier. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

You take a moment to respond before humming softly, “Y/N.”

“Good job, and do you know where you are right now?” He pushed a little further, not wanting you to sleep until he was sure how you were doing.

“Yeah... hotel with you, getting the best dick of my life.” You mumble against his side causing him to chuckle as his grin returns.

“Perfect. Get some sleep now, you did amazing doll.” He watches as you almost immediately pass out realizing that didn’t give him any of the answers he was hoping for. In fact, if anything he seemed to have even more questions now.

One thing seemed for certain however, if he stuck around you he would be well and truly fucked. If you were going to fuck him up though...then he sure as hell would return the favor.

To be continued....

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