#can a tortoise live outside all year round | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acciofandomlove · 3 years ago

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I posted 945 times in 2021

59 posts created (6%)

886 posts reblogged (94%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 15.0 posts.

I added 72 tags in 2021

#harry potter - 11 posts

#merlin - 10 posts

#bbc merlin - 9 posts

#potterhead - 8 posts

#arthur pendragon - 7 posts

#hp - 6 posts

#knights of the round table - 6 posts

#arthur - 5 posts

#guinevere - 5 posts

#lancelot - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#like what am i supposed to do look for animated cartoonish features before deciding whether it's safe to drop a tortoise/turtle into the wa

My Top Posts in 2021

No, but this literally happens in hindu mythology.

So there was this man called Hiranyakasipu who hated the God Vishnu for killing his brother Hiranayaksya. To extract revenge, he took up years of penance and meditation which impressed the God Brahma who promised to grant him any wish he asked for as a prize.

He asked the God, “Grant me the power to not die within or outside any residence; to not die during the night or the day; to not die on the ground or in the sky; to not die from any deva, weapon, human being or animal; to not die of any object, living or non-living, made by you (which was a big deal as Brahma is literally called the creator god); to not die at the hands of any demigod or demon.”

Brahma granted him that boon.

Using his powers- which virtually made him indestructible- he started killings all followers of vishnu. He even tried to kill his own son, Prahlada, who had ironically became a devout follower of Vishnu but failed due to Vishnu’s intervention.

Long story short, one day an angry Hiranyakasipu called his son and asked him while pointing at a stone pillar in his house, “If Vishnu is so divine and supreme, and is present everywhere, then why is he not in his pillar?”

Prahlada answered, “He is, was and will always be.”

So Hiranyakasipu decided to smash the pillar to prove that Vishnu was in fact not there.

His move backfired and Visnu, taking the form of Narasimha, jumped out of the ruble.

Narasimha was a half-lion, half-man meaning he was neither an animal, a deva, a demogod, a demon nor a human and wasn’t created by Brahma. He came during twilight which was neither night nor day. He appeared at the threshhold of a courtyard, meaning he was neither outside nor inside and he killed Hiranyakasipu using his long, sharp lion-claws which can’t technically be classified as “weapons” while laying him on his thigh which consisted neither of being on the ground nor in the sky.

Boom, man killed. Boon still granted.

163 notes • Posted 2021-02-20 10:28:37 GMT

Friend: Who do you ship in Merlin?

Me: Yes

177 notes • Posted 2021-12-04 13:23:03 GMT

Ok I know we��ve all talked about how oblivious Arthur was to Merlin’s magic but can we talk about how oblivious he was to Merlin’s opinion on magic?

Like according to my guy Merlin’s legit childhood best friend was a sorceror and Arthur’s still like- “Merlin must think magic is evil. Merlin d’you think magic is evil? Of course you do, who am I kidding. But what if it’s not evil, what if we were wrong? Nvm what do you know about magic. It’s not like your childhood best friend, Will, had some. You just stand there looking pretty and being an idiot. Leave the thinking to the big boys.”

217 notes • Posted 2021-01-29 10:58:04 GMT

Ok, ok, I know we give arthur so much shit about being oblivious but can we talk about the knights for one second?

Little Perilious Land Guy: Strength and mAgIcCcC

Gwaine: Y'all hear something?

Ghost Uther: *Throws axe across the room*

Percival: Hmm... must have fallen off... science

Merlin: Air from the north smells like the sea

Arthur: ?????

Knights: Sounds legit

Merlin: *orders Wyverns to go away on isle of the blessed*

Knights: ...alright then...

Merlin: *survives Dorocha attack. Something that's supposed to be IMPOSSIBLE!1!1!!!*

Knights: Lmao Gwaine's socks suck lololol...

Merlin: *Repeatedly drops branches on bandits, heats their weapons up, sets them on fire, trips them, redirects their arrows/spears, etc etc*

Knights: What a lucky coinkidink! (Bonus, once you realise that most of these armoured himbos have fought bandits before they met Merlin as well and should, unlike Arthur, know how unnatural the too often fortunate branch-dropping/weapon-dropping business is)

I swear, Nimueh must have putting something other than the afanc in camelot's waters. There's no other explanation for everyone being so damn oblivious!

353 notes • Posted 2021-04-22 14:21:14 GMT

Draco, Harry, Ginny and Astoria attending a function.

Ginny & Astoria: *making eye contact from across the room*

Ginny & Astoria: *slowly growing identical smirks of mischief upon their face*

Ginny & Astoria: *walking towards each other while their husbands remain oblivious*

Astoria: *putting on a snooty look* Scared PoTTAH?!

Ginny: You wishhh.

Harry & Draco: *Making eye contact with each other, similar looks of horror on their faces*

Astoria: *puffing out chest* Manners, Potter, or I’ll have to give you a detention. You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.

Ginny: *mock glaring and crossing her arms together* Yeah but you, unlike me, are a git! So get out and leave us alone!

Draco: *covering his face with his hands* Every time. Every single fucking time.

Astoria: You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter! You fon't wanna go making friends with the wrong sort.

Harry: Guys, seriously. We were eleven...

Astoria: I Can Help You There. *extends her hand out*

Ginny: *looks at the hands then slowly looks Astoria up and down with exaggerated motions* I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.

Astoria: *dramatic gasp and puts a hand on her chest* My fAtHeR will hear about this.

Draco: *sighs*

Ginny: *stomping her foot* SHUT UP, MaLFoY!

Harry: *looks to the heavens pleadingly*

Astoria: Why so tense, Potter? My father and I have a bet, you see.

Draco: No wait!! Astoria-

Astoria: I don't think you're going to last ten minutes in this tournament. He disagrees.

Harry: Ginny, don't you dare-

Astoria: He thinks you won't last FIVE.

Harry & Draco: NO-

Ginny: I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOUR FATHER THINKS, MALFOY!!101!!! HE'SVILEANDCRUELANDYOU'REJUSTPATHETIC!

Ginny & Astoria: *Burst out into giggles*

407 notes • Posted 2021-07-10 19:45:41 GMT

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catalysisrp · 3 years ago

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As mobile tumblr no longer likes to let people click page links ( 😒 ) we've decided to drop today's preview in a post for all our mobile users' viewing pleasures!

PERDITION, NV POPULATION 1,974

Sitting stubbornly in the southern tip of Nevada, Perdition is 111 miles north of Las Vegas in rocky, sparsely habited Lincoln County. It sits in a scorched valley between the South Pahroc Range and the Delamar Range. Big Rock Wilderness stands directly north, across highway 93, so from any point in town you can see the teeth of jagged desert mountain ranges jutting up from the horizon. Its population is a small and ever-shrinking 1,974. Despite the harsh surroundings, a variety of flora and fauna surround the small town, digging out life from the feet of the mountains. Mesquite, creosote, greasewood, yucca, and more than 30 varieties of cacti dot the landscape. Sheep, foxes, coyotes, bats, wild horses, owls, tortoises and reptiles are among the hundreds of species co-existing in the rugged landscape. Check your shoes before heading out the door: three different types of scorpions live in the deserts of Nevada. Emergency rooms are also frequented by those bitten by local snakes: sidewinders, the Great Basin rattler, the western diamondback, and kingsnakes are all venomous and common.

WEATHER & CLIMATE SOUTHWESTERN USA

Perdition enjoys highs from 100 degrees in the summer to as low as 50 degrees in the winter. On average, they get 159 days of sunshine year-round. It is a semi-arid climate with very little precipitation.

NEIGHBORHOODS & RESIDENCES

King’s Canyon Estates - Home to the ever-shrinking upper echelon of Perdition, patrolled by a security guard and watched by hawkish blue bloods out of gleaming windows. The lawns are unsettlingly green and the manses are polished and opulent. Rebel Creek - Perdition residents call this run-down, burnt-out neighborhood ‘the wrong side of the creek’. Populated by shotgun houses and a few poorly maintained trailers, Rebel Creek is where the down-and-out lurk. As more of the city falls on hard economic times, more residents find themselves washed up here. It’s not advised to walk through at night. Steptoe Terrace Apartments - Close to downtown, reasonably priced, utilitarian. Nothing fancy, not run down; lived-in. It’s a step up from Rebel Creek, at least. Sunridge Court - Middle class Perdition residents live here in their modest but well-built houses and small but pleasantly tended yards. It’s close to the schools, the small city library, and most of downtown proper. Alta Vista - ATLAS employees have brought an unusual white-collar wealth to Perdition, driving up property values and forcing some people out of their homes altogether. This new development sprung up shortly after the ATLAS compound’s arrival, built on land wrenched from the impoverished hands of ranchers and homeowners on the outskirts of Perdition. Eminent Domain and skyrocketing property taxes have left a small but not insignificant portion of residents relocating to Steptoe and Rebel Creek, unable to afford to rebuild and unwilling to move away from the town their families have called home for so many generations.

PERDITION PROPER & LOCAL BUSINESSES

City Hall - The administration building of local municipal government, like everything in Perdition, has seen better days. Not many folk in town are particulalry pleased with their mayor, but no one ever seems to run against him. Sheriff’s Department & Perdition Jailhouse - Sheriff’s office, a small dispatch office, and a few jail cells for penning any rowdy drunks from the Widowmaker. Red Rock Elementary School - Pre-k - grade 6 Perdition High School - Grades 7 - 12, home of the Fighting Mules! Pike’s Food & Drug - The only grocer & pharmacy in town, owned by the Pike family, six-generation Perdition locals. It’s a snapshot in time, especially the functioning-and-fully-stocked cigarette vending machine and the soda fountain that’s still in service. Golden Oasis Casino - With the promise of a major highway to connect Perdition to the rest of the world, eager investors saw dollar signs and poured piles of money into a brand new casino in 1952. When the highway development fell through and the money dried up, it decayed into what it is today: a place for locals to pull the creaky levers on old penny slots and ignore the indoor smoking ban. Silver Strike Diner - While its silvery accents and vinyl booths are dinged and sunbleached, the food is just as good as when the Silver Strike opened in 1950. Cheap, greasy, open 24/7. The jukebox hasn’t worked since 2002. The Widowmaker - This saloon, built in 1902 and originally named The Silver Dollar Saloon, stands right on the edge of Rebel Creek and decent society. It’s an utter dive: dark, dingy, cheap, and rowdy. Look out for bar fights and pickpockets. Sandman Motel - Its peeling-paint neon sign can be seen from the highway, a symbol of bygone days (and missing the ‘T’ on one side). You have to be pretty desperate to stay here; all-sorts roll in off the highway to rent out these rooms. Last Chance Gas - Local gas station open 24/7 selling cold beer, cigarettes, essentials, and lotto tickets. It’s the ‘last chance for gas’ for the next 100 miles down America’s Loneliest Highway.

OUTER PERDITION & SURROUNDING WILDERNESS

Professor Chromium’s Monster Museum & Creature Feature! - Just off Highway 50! Come, be amazed! Mysterious creatures great and small from the world over; creatures as you’ve never seen! In the time-honored tradition of now-defunct circus freak shows, Professor Chromium’s Monster Museum is a sprawling old warehouse made into a maze of clever taxidermy, creative Frankensteining of stuffed creatures, jars of mysterious claws and limbs. Locals serve as tour guides for tourists and cashiers at the wildly overpriced gift shop stuffed with kitschy souvenirs. Some even say a few of the creatures are genuine horrors, but who would believe them? Perot Mine - There’s a saying around town, and it’s ‘all the money in Perdition comes from Perot’. The mine opened for operation in 1902 when prospectors were hunting for new veins as the mine in Delamar had been providing dwindling returns for a few years before the fire ravaged the town in 1900. William Perot founded the mine and the town of Perdition sprung up nearby. All of high society in Perdition is related to, or married to, a Perot. It employs a huge portion of the Perdition population, but its returns are now dwindling, too. Quarter after quarter, less and less gold and silver ore has been hauled out of Perot. There are whispers of lay-offs on the horizon and even the upper crust of Perdition is starting to get nervous. Perdition Uranium Mine & Mill - from 1951 to 1968, a uranium mining boom swept across America. Spurred by the Atomic Energy Commission and the Cold War, Nevada was a focal point for substantial uranium prospecting and mining. Just outside Perdition, a uranium mine and mill cropped up, employing hundreds of locals and bringing an additional economic boom to the small town in addition to the long-standing gold mine. It was shuttered in 1972, boarded up, and now stands as an ugly relic littered with radioactive warning signs all along the perimeter. Curious teenagers have gone missing inside, and sometimes strange noises can be heard across the flat desert from within its neglected depths. The ATLAS Compound - In 2015, after a flurry of federally funded construction activity behind high chain link fence, a collection of bureaucratic government buildings cropped up like a deposit of hard, shiny minerals along the horizon just outside of town, near the old Perdition Uranium Mine and Milling site. Its perimeter is gated and the gatehouse is always manned by armed guards. This government compound includes a huge lab, offices, and a medical wing. Officially, it is designated as an arm of the Department of the Interior. Delamar - A ghost town dubbed ‘The Widow-maker’ due to deadly dry milling techniques that killed dozens and dozens of the men who worked at the Delamar mine. Established in 1891, the mine operated lucratively until 1900 when nearly the entire city burned to the ground. After a difficult recovery, the mine closed in 1909 and by 1914 the town was abandoned. Nothing but the skeleton of old buildings and lingering ghosts remain in Delamar. Big Rock Wilderness - Fully encompassing the southernmost portion of the South Pahroc Range, this gorgeous national park includes steep and jagged mountains, canyons and an expansive field of large, jumbled boulders loved by rock climbers all over the state. Recreational opportunities include climbing, camping, hiking, horseback riding and hunting.

#catalysisrp #update

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chiseler · 5 years ago

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The Head -- It Just Won’t Stay Dead

In the early 1960s, the overwhelming majority of European horror films imported to the United States were either British or Italian, the British films being easily understood and the Italian ones frequently pretending to be of British origin. Examples of French horror were rare (odd for a country whose cinema was so rooted in the fantastique), reaching an early apex with Georges Franju’s Eyes Without a Face (1960), which came to the US in a well-done English dub called The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus during the Halloween season of 1962.

Seldom paid much attention in retrospectives of this fertile period in continental horror cinema is a rare German example, Die Nackte und der Satan (“The Naked and the Devil,” 1959), which came to the US retitled The Head almost exactly one year before the arrival of the Franju masterpiece. Critics like to refer to The Head as “odd” and “atmospheric,” words that seem to disregard deeper consideration, never really coming to terms with it as anything but a sleazy shock trifle. However, it was in fact the product of a remarkable and rarely equaled concentration of accomplished patrimonies.

Consider this: The Head starred the great Swiss actor Michel Simon, renowned for his roles in Jean Renoir’s La Chienne and Boudu Saved From Drowning; it was directed by the Russian-born Victor Trivas, returning to his adopted homeland for the first time since directing Niemandsland (1932, aka No Man’s Land or Hell On Earth), a potent anti-war statement that was all but obliterated off the face of the earth by the Nazis when he fled the country, and who furthermore had written the story upon which Orson Welles’ The Stranger (1946) was based; it was photographed by Georg Krause, whose numerous international credits include Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory (1957); its sets were designed by Hermann Warm, the genius responsible for such German Expressionist masterpieces as Robert Weine’s The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1919), Fritz Lang’s Destiny (1921), as well as Carl Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928) and Vampyr (1932), and its score is a wild patchwork of library tracks by Willy Mattes, the Erwin Lehn Orchestra, and a group of avant garde musicians known as Lasry-Baschet, who would subsequently lend their eerie, ethereal music to Jean Cocteau’s The Testament of Orpheus (1960). If all this were not enough, The Head was also filmed at the Munich studios of Arnold Richter, the co-founder of the Arri Group, innovators of the famous Arriflex cameras and lenses.

Though made after the 1957 horror breakthroughs made in Britain and Italy (Terence Fisher’s The Curse of Frankenstein, and I vampiri, co-directed by Riccardo Freda and Mario Bava), The Head represented a virtual revolutionary act in postwar Germany, where horror was then considered a genre to avoid. The project was proposed to Trivas by a young film producer named Wolfgang C. Hartwig, head of Munich’s Rapid-Film, whose claim to fame was initiating a niche of exploitation cinema known as Sittenfilme – literally “moral movies” – which, like many American exploitation films of the 1930s, maintained a higher, judgmental moral tone while telling the stories of people who slipped into lives of vice (prostitution, blackmail, drug addiction), their sordid experiences always leading them to a happy or at least bittersweet outcome. Though it goes quite a bit further than either Britain or Italy had yet gone in terms of sexualizing horror, The Head nevertheless checked all the boxes required for Sittenfilme and was undertaken by Hartwig in early 1959 as Rapid-Film’s most prestigious production to date.

After the main titles are spelled out over an undulating nocturnal fog, the story begins with a lurker’s shadow passing along outside the gated property of Prof. Dr. Abel. With its round head and wide-brimmed hat, it looks like the planet Saturn from the neck up. When this marauder pauses to pay some gentle attention to a passing tortoise, we get our first look at the film’s real star - Horst Frank, just thirty at the time, his clammy asexual aura topped off with prematurely graying hair and large triangular eyebrows that seem carried over from the days of German Expressionism. More bizarre still, he later gives his name as Dr. Ood, whose explanation is still more bizarre: at the age of three months old, he was orphaned, the sole survivor of a cataclysmic shipwreck .

“That was the name of the wrecked ship,” he explains. “S.S. Ood.”

The ambiguous Ood takes cover as another late night visitor comes calling: a hunchbacked woman wearing a nurse’s habit as outsized as an oxygen tent. This is Sister Irene Sanders (the screen debut of Karin Kernke, later seen in the Edgar Wallace krimi The Terrible People, 1960). Though Irene cuts a figure as ambiguous and unusual as any Franju ever filmed, she owes her greatest debt to Jane Adams’ hunchbacked Nina in Erle C. Kenton’s House of Dracula (1945). As with Nina, Irene lives in the hope that her deformity can be eradicated by the skill of a brilliant surgeon.

When Irene leaves after meeting with Dr. Abel, Ood presents himself with the written recommendation of a colleague he previously, supposedly, assisted. A burly old walrus of a man, Abel (Michel Simon) already has two younger associates, Dr. Walter Burke (Kurt Müller-Graf, “a first class surgeon”) and the handsome, muscular Burt Jaeger (Helmut Schmid), who hasn’t been quite the same since an unexplained brain operation. Both associates share a creative streak; Burke is also “an excellent architect, [who] designed this house,” while Jaeger “designed my special operating table; it allows me to work without assistants.” (So why does he have two of them? With names that sound the same, no less!) Given the high caliber of Hermann Warm’s talent as a production designer, Burke and Burt together are every bit as skilled in architecture as was Boris Karloff’s Hjalmar Poelzig in Edgar G. Ulmer’s The Black Cat (1934). The main floor of Abel’s sprawling house is dominated by a vast spiral stairwell, striking low-backed furniture, a mobile of dancing palette shapes, and an overpowering wall reproducing Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Virtuvian Man.” Down in the lab, Burt’s robotic surgical assistant looks as if it might have been conceived by the brain responsible for the Sadean mind control device in Jess Franco’s The Diabolical Dr. Z (1965) - a film that, along with Franco’s earlier The Awful Dr. Orlof (1962), seems considerably more indebted to Trivas on renewed acquaintance than to Franju. The film was shot in black-and-white and at no point inside Abel’s abode do the silvery, ivory surfaces admit even the possibility of pigment.

Adding to its effect, the music heard whenever the film cuts back to Abel’s place is anything but homey. It consists of a single, sustained electric keyboard chord played in a nightmarish loop that seems to chill and vibrate, its predictable arc punctuated now and again with icy spikes of cornet. Though I don’t recall reading any extensive discussion of the film’s music, The Head represents what is surely the most important advance in electronic music in the wake of Louis & Bebe Barron’s work on Forbidden Planet (1956). Though the film’s music credits list bandleader Willy Mattes, Jacques Lasry and the Edwin Lehr Orchestra with its music, the most important musical credit is displaced. Further down the screen is the unexplained “Sound Structure, Lasry-Baschet.”

Lasry-Baschet was a musical combination of two partnerships – that of brothers Francois and Bernard Baschet, and the husband-and-wife team of Jacques and Yvonne Lasry. The two brothers were musicians who played astonishing instruments of their own invention, like the Crystal Baschet (played with moistened fingers on glass rods), the Aluminum Piano, the Inflatable Guitar, the Rotating Whistler, and the Polytonal Percussion. The Lasry couple, originally a pianist and organist, began performing with the Baschets on their unique devices in the mid 1950s. Some of the music they produced during this period is collected on the albums Sonata Exotique (credited to Structures for Sound, covering the years 1957-1959) and Structures For Sound (credited to the Baschet Brothers alone, 1963), a vinyl release by the Museum of Modern Art. These and other recorded works can be found on YouTube, as well; they are deeply moving ambient journeys but I cannot say with certainty that they include any of the music from The Head. That said, the music they do collect is very much in its macabre character and would have also fit very well into Last Year At Marienbad (1961) or any of Franju’s remarkable films.

When Ood meets with Abel and expresses his keen interest in experimental research, the good doctor mentions that he has had success copying “the recent Russian surgery” that succeeded in keeping the severed head of a dog alive – however, his moral code prevents him from taking such experimentation still further. After leaving Abel, Ood finds his way to the Tam-Tam Club, a nightspot where a life-sized placard promotes the nightly performances of “Tam-Tam Super Sex Star Lilly.” This visit initiates a parallel storyline involving Lilly (Christiane Maybach), who supplements her striptease work as an artist’s model, and is the particular muse of the brooding Paul Lerner (Dieter Eppler), a man of only artistic ambition, much to the annoyance of his father, a prominent judge who wants him to study law. Maybach reportedly won her role the day before she began filming. According to news reports of the day, the actress originally cast – the voluptuous redhead Kai Fischer – had signed on to play the part, after which producer Hartwig decided she must also appear nude. Fisher sued Hartwig for breach of contract in March 1959 and he was sentenced to pay out a compensatory fee of DM 4,000 – in currency today, the equivalent of about $35,000. As it happens, Christiane Maybach doesn’t appear nude in the film’s final cut either.

The English version of The Head opens with a credit sequence played out over a shot of the full moon taken from near the climax of the picture. Unusually, the German Die Nackte und der Satan doesn’t present its title onscreen until Lilly is ready to go on. It’s superimposed with inverted commas on pleated velvet curtains that suddenly rise, revealing a stage adorned by a single suit of armor. Lilly dances out, stage right, garbed in a medieval conical hat, scarves, a bikini and a black mask, performing her dance of the seven veils around the impervious man of metal. She only strips down to her bikini but her dance ends with her in the arms of the armor we assumed empty, which tightly embraces her as its visor pops open, revealing a man’s face wearing skull makeup. Lilly screams, the lights go out, and the house goes wild with applause – a veritable blueprint for the striptease of Estella Blain’s Miss Death in Franco’s The Diabolical Dr. Z (1965).

The music heard during the film’s Tam-Tam Club sequences was recorded by the Erwin Lehn Orchestra, evidently with Jacques Lasry on piano, though its emphasis on brass is its outstanding characteristic. Erwin Lehn was a German jazz musician and composer who established the first German Big Band Orchestra for South German Radio. Brass was a major component of his sound – indeed, he made pop instrumental recordings credited to The Erwin Lehn Beat-Brass. You can find their album Beat Flames on YouTube, as well.

Backstage, the beautiful Lilly is a nagging brat, drinking and flirting with patrons while berating Paul’s lax ambitions on the side. Dieter Eppler, a frequent player in the Edgar Wallace krimis and also the lead bloodsucker in Roberto Mauri’s Italian Slaughter of the Vampires (1964), makes for inspired casting; he looks like a beefier, if less dynamic Kirk Douglas at a time when Vincente Minnelli’s Lust For Life (1956) would have still been in the minds of audiences.

Once Ood joins the payroll, Dr. Abel confesses that his heart is failing rapidly. The only means of saving himself and perpetuating his brilliant research is by doing the impossible – that is, transplanting the heart from a donor’s body into his own, which he insists is possible given his innovation of “Serum X.” What Abel could not foresee was that his own body would die during the procedure. Ood tells Burke that the only way to save Abel’s genius is to keep his head artificially alive, which his associate rejects uncatagorically, pushing Ood over the edge into murder. Then Ood proceeds with the operation, working solo with Jaeger’s robo-assistant passing along surgical tools as he needs them. When Abel revives, Ood breaks his news of the procedure gently by holding up a mirror and exclaiming that he’d had “one last chance – to perform the dog operation on your head!” Abel screams in revulsion of what he has become. The conciliatory Ood gently cautions him, “Too much emotion can be extremely dangerous now.”

The severed head apparatus is a simple yet ingenious effect, shot entirely in-camera and credited to Theo Nischwitz. It utilizes what is generally known as a Schufftan shot, a technique made famous by spfx shots achieved by Eugen Schufftan for Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1926). Essentially, Michel Simon was seated behind a pane of mirrored glass with all the apparatus seen from his neck up. The silvering on the reverse portion of the mirror was scraped away, allowing the camera to see through to Simon and the apparatus while reflecting the apparatus arrayed below his neck, in position for the camera to capture its reflection simultaneously. In at least one promotional photo issued for the film, Simon’s shoulders can be transparently glimpsed where they should not be.

Irene returns to meet with Dr. Abel and is surprised to find new employee Ood now alone and ruling the roost. When he offers to perform her operation himself, she instinctively distrusts and fears him – but is reassured after hearing Abel’s disembodied voice on the house’s sophisticated intercom.

After the killing and burial of Burke, whose body Bert Jaeger later finds thanks to the barking of Dr. Abel’s kenneled hounds (a detail that one imagines inspired Franju’s use of a kennel in Eyes Without a Face), the film introduces the dull but nevertheless compulsory police investigation, headed by Paul Dahlke as Police Commissioner Sturm. Sagging interest is buoyed by a surprise twist: when Dr. Ood returns to the Tam-Tam Club and asks the perpetually pissy Lilly to dance, he refers to her in passing as “Stella,” prompting her to recognize him as “Dr. Brandt” (the scorecard now reads Burke, Bert and Brandt), who has inside knowledge pertaining to her poisoning of her husband! Given that his earlier writing projects include Orson Welles’ The Stranger and the bizarre Mexican-made Buster Keaton item Boom In the Moon (also 1946), in which an innocent shipwrecked sailor is rescued from his castaway existence only to find himself confused with a serial killer, Victor Trivas would seem partial to characters who live double lives.

Though Ood/Brandt’s aura is basically asexual through the first half of the film, the second half requires him to take an earthier interest in the female bodies finding their way into his hands. He takes the already tipsy Lilly/Stella home for a drink and some mischief.

“What’s in the glass?”

“Drink it and find out.”

“I hope it’s not poisoned.”

“That’s not my specialty, is it?”

Lilly/Stella becomes the necessary auto parts for Irene’s pending operation. In a nicely done montage, the film dissolves from Lilly’s unconscious body to a glint of light off the edge of Ood’s poised scalpel. It cuts to a curt zoom into Abel’s scream at being forced to watch a procedure he abhors, then a dissolve from his mouth to the spinning dials of a wall clock, followed by some time-lapse photography of cumulous clouds unfurling from an open sky, before Irene awakens in her recovery room with a decorative choker around her throat. She is able to gain her feet and covers her nude body in a sheet. She finds Ood lounging in Abel’s old office. He walks toward her as the sheet tumbles off her bare shoulders.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Well, I… I’ve a strange kind of feeling, as if my whole body were changed, as if my body didn’t want to do what I wished.”

Therefore, Ood has not only taken away her deformity but her responsibility for her actions, as well. Though she has never smoked before, she craves a cigarette. As Ood lights one for her, her wrap falls further, undraping her entire bare back and thus exposing a birthmark on her left shoulder blade that becomes an important plot point. Ood confesses she’s been unconscious for 117 days, during which time he has passed the time by performing numerous enhancing procedures on her inert body. When he compliments her superb figure, she self-consciously covers her legs and recoils from him.

“Why run from everything you desire?” he asks. “You can’t run from yourself.”

He draws Irene into a surprising deep kiss, which – to her own apparent horror - she returns. Ood then tries to take things further but she refuses. After a brief (and surprisingly curtailed) attempt at abduction, he releases Irene, who dresses in a black cocktail dress and heels left behind by Lilly and returns to the humble apartment she kept in her previous life, where a full-length mirror stands covered. In a scene considerably shortened by the US version, she rips the cover away in a movement evocative of a symbolic self-rape, and glories in her new reflection. The score turns torrid, brassy, and trashy as she admires her shapely terrain, fondling the curves of her breasts and hips in a prelude to a gratifying personal striptease. She then goes to her bed, where she tries on an old pair of slippers; she laughs and kicks them away, delighted at how small her feet now are. When she wakes the next morning, she finds a pamphlet for the Tam-Tam Club in Lilly’s old purse, which leads her body back to its former place of employ. When she arrives, another striptease artist is working onstage with a bed. This performance appears to burlesque Irene’s own motions from the night before; she kicks off one of her shoes as Irene had done.

From the moment she walks into the club, still wearing Lilly’s clinging black dress, Irene evokes a black widow, a kind of Alraune – the femme fatale of Hanns Heinz Ewers’ novel, filmed in 1930 with Brigitte Helm and in 1952 by Hildegarde Knef. Like Alraune, she’s the beautiful creation of a mad scientist’s laboratory, but unnatural. In this case, she’s not really a soulless artificial being out to destroy men; on the contrary, she is soulful, starving for some insight into who she is, what she is. In this way, she particularly foreshadows Christina, the schizophrenic subject of Baron Frankenstein’s “soul transplant” played by Susan Denberg in Terence Fisher’s Frankenstein Created Woman (1966).

She quickly attracts Paul’s artist’s eye, just as the now-topless dancer onstage swirls into a swoon on a prop bed – unconsciously mimicking Lilly at the only time she ever saw her, when Ood gave her a sneak peek at the unconscious woman on his living room couch. She asks about Lilly, whom Paul mentions has been dead now for three months, her body (in fact, Irene’s former body) found maimed beyond recognition on some railroad tracks. He asks her to dance, but Irene refuses, as she has never danced, never been asked to dance before. But he insists and they both discover that she can: “You must be a born dancer!”

Beautiful and irresponsible, she allows herself to follow Paul back to his studio, where drawings of Lilly are displayed. Paul asks to draw her, and when she turns her back to bare her shoulders, he recognizes Lilly’s beauty mark. She flees from the apartment and confronts the unflappable Ood.

“You must have grafted her skin on my body!”

In the movie’s most hilarious line, he fires back, “You have a poor imagination!”

She rejects his true account of the procedure and demands to see Dr. Abel, so Ood takes her down to the lab for a personal confirmation from the man himself. Ashamed to be seen this way, Abel pleads with Irene to disconnect him from the apparatus. She is driven away before she can accomplish this, and tries to shut away the horror of the truth that’s been revealed by losing herself in her new relationship with Paul – but the old question arises: Does he love her for her body or her mind? There seems to be one answer when he first kisses her, and another and his lips venture further down her front.

I should leave some things to be discovered by your own viewing of the film, but it demands to be mentioned that Irene – the triumphant climax of Ood’s genius, so to speak – actually survives at the end of the film to live happily ever after. Think about this. This is something that would have been considered unacceptable in any of Hammer’s Frankenstein films at the time – indeed, through the following decade. So, although Ood is ultimately destroyed (you’ll need to see it to find out how), the mad science he propounds is actually borne out. It’s left up to Paul and Irene, as they walk off together toward a new tomorrow, how they will manage to live with the fact that the two of them are in fact a ménage à trois. Will they keep the details of her existence a secret? Will medical science remain ignorant? Should they ever have any, what will they tell their kids?

The Head was hardly the first word on severed heads in horror entertainment. In his own admiring coverage of the film, Euro Gothic author Jonathan Rigby likens the film to the story of Rene Berton’s 1928 Grand Guignol play L’Homme qui à tue la mort (“The Man Who Killed Death”): “There, Professor Fargus revived the guillotined head of a supposed murderer and the prosecutor lost his mind when the head continued to plead his innocence.” Earlier such films would include Universal’s Inner Sanctum thriller Strange Confession (1945, in which a never-seen severed head is a main plot point), The Man Without a Body (1957) and The Thing That Couldn’t Die (1958), the latter two proving that the concept was actually trending at the time The Head was made. Also parenthetically relevant would be She Demons (1958), which involves the nasty experiments of a renegade Nazi scientist living on an uncharted tropical island, who removes the “beauty glands” of native girls to periodically restore his wife’s good looks. Though The Head wasn’t the first of its kind, many of the traits it introduced would surface in similar films that followed – not only in Franju’s Eyes Without A Face or Franco’s The Awful Dr. Orlof and The Diabolical Dr. Z, but also in Anton Giulio Majano’s Italian Atom Age Vampire (1960), Chano Urueta’s The Living Head (1963), and most conspicuously in Joseph Green’s The Brain That Wouldn’t Die, not released until 1962 though filmed in 1959, some six months after The Head.

It must be mentioned that the film’s unusual quality did not go unrecognized by its American distributor. Trans-Lux Distributing Corporation advertised the film that took a most unusual approach to selling a horror picture. The ads did not promise blood, or that your companion would jump into your lap, or shock after shock after shock. Instead, Trans-Lux promised that “At The Head of All Masterpieces of Horror [my italics] That You’ve Ever Seen… You Must Place… The Head.”

Of course it was an overstatement, but the size of its overstatement would seem to have narrowed appreciably with time.

So why has The Head, with its rich pooling of so much European talent, been so neglected?

A key reason may be that horror fans like their actors and directors to maintain a certain consistency, a certain fidelity to the genre. Horst Frank (who died in 1999) would appear in other horror films, but never again played a lead; he pursued his career as a character actor and singer, maintaining a career on the stage and keeping close to home, never making films off the continent or appearing in productions originating from England or America. After The Head, Victor Trivas made no more horror films. The other four features he made had been produced a quarter century earlier and the majority are impossible to see in English countries. Those who remembered him for Niemandsland would have considered The Head an embarrassment, an unfortunate last act. It wasn’t quite a last act, however. The following year, he returned to America, where he sold his final script to the Warner Bros. television series The Roaring 20s, starring Dorothy Provine. Though the show avoided fantasy subjects, it was a voodoo-themed episode entitled “The Fifth Pin,” directed by Robert Spaar and televised during the series’ first season on April 8, 1961. The guest stars included John Dehner, Rex Reason, Patricia O’Neal and, surprisingly, beloved Roger Corman repertory player Dick Miller. Trivas died in New York City in 1970, at the age of 73.

The English version of The Head is considered to be a public domain title and has been available from Alpha Video, Sinister Cinema and other PD sources. This version was modestly recut to create a new main title sequence and to remove certain erotic elements unwelcome to its target audience in 1961. Happily, a hybrid edition – which, in a fitting fate, grafts the English dub onto the original uncut version from Germany – was recently made available for viewing on YouTube.

In the immediate wake of The Head, producer Wolf C. Hartwig pushed another erotic horror film into production, Ein Töter hing in Netz (“A Corpse Hangs in the Web,” 1960). Scripted and directed by Fritz Böttger, the film (Böttger’s last as a director) was first released in America as It’s Hot In Paradise (1962), sold as a girlie picture with absolutely no indication of its horror content. It was later reissued in 1965 as Horrors of Spider Island (1965). Under any of its titles, the film is notably lacking all of the artistic and aesthetic pedigree that made its predecessor so special and, indeed, influential.

Sixty years further on, The Head warrants fuller recognition as a spearhead of that magic moment on the threshold of the 1960s when so-called “art cinema” began to be fused with so-called “trash cinema,” leading to a broader, wilder, more adult fantastique.

by Tim Lucas

[1] Victor Trivas’ Niemandsland may be viewed online at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-4XhNMWoyw

[2] Rapid-Film’s later successes would include the German film that was subsequently converted into Francis Ford Coppola’s directorial debut (The Bellboy and the Playgirls, 1962), Ernst Hofbauer’s Schoolgirl Report film series (1970-80), and Sam Peckinpah’s Cross of Iron (1977).

[3] You can see Lasry-Baschet perform and be interviewed in a French newsreel from January 1961 on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awaFd6gArLg&t=46s.

[4] Well, as “recent” as 1940, when footage of a supposedly successful Soviet resuscitation of a dog’s severed head was included in the grisly 20m documentary Experiments In the Revival of Organisms. The operation was performed (and repeated) by Doctors Sergei Brukhonenko and Boris Levinskovsky, making use of their “autojektor,” an artificial heart/lung machine not unlike the contraption seen in The Head. A close look at Experiments reveals that it really shows nothing that could not have been faked through means of special effects. (When George Bernard Shaw learned of the Soviet experiment, he’s said to have remarked, “"I am tempted to have my own head cut off so that I can continue to dictate plays and books without being bothered by illness, without having to dress and undress, without having to eat, without having anything else to do other than to produce masterpieces of dramatic art and literature.") Experiments In The Revival of Organisms has been uploaded to YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ap1co5ZZHYE.

[5] Rigby, Jonathan. Euro Horror: Classics of Continental Horror Cinema (London: Signum Books, 2017), p. 79.

[6] Joseph Green also worked in motion picture distribution and later formed Joseph Green Pictures, which specialized in spicy imported pictures, some from Germany. It’s possible that he saw the Trivas picture when it was still seeking distribution in the States. When Ostalgica Film released The Head on DVD in Germany under its Belgian reissue title Des Satans nackte Sklavin (“The Devil’s Naked Slave”), the disc included The Brain That Wouldn’t Die as a bonus co-feature.

[7] A fine quality homemade experiment, it runs 91 minutes 47 seconds and can be found at: The Head (Die Nackte und der Satan) 1959 Sci-Fi / Horror HQ version!.

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unfolded73 · 5 years ago

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How Do We Get Back (3/16) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one.

Rating will be explicit in later chapters. This chapter 3.8k words. (ao3)

Notes: As previously warned, this fic includes adultery. But as someone messaged me to ask, there are no kids involved.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

________________________________

Chapter 3

The first thing David saw when he got out of his Uber in midtown was a big red sandwich board on the sidewalk that said ‘99¢ PIZZA!’.

“Ew.” He shuddered and turned around, seeing the bar he was looking for a couple of doors down. The Distillery, it said in an understated serif font. Doubting that any distilling actually took place there, he took a breath to steel himself and went inside. He opened his Tinder app and quickly sent a message: I’m here.

The hostess took in his Neil Barrett shirt with black lightning bolts adorning the shoulders, and her haughty expression shifted into a smile. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet someone, but…” He looked down at his phone again. “I don’t think he’s here yet.”

“Well, you’re welcome to wait at the bar.” She pointed it out, her wrist jangling with bracelets. On a Tuesday, even this tourist-hell adjacent bar wasn’t completely packed, but there were only two empty seats that he could see. With a fluttering hand wave to indicate he’d do as the hostess suggested, David made his way over, taking the stool between a group of bros in business suits and a lone tourist.

He’d been browsing Tinder for a lack of anything better to do that afternoon, and after swiping left on half a dozen guys who listed Crossfit among their interests, and as many women who listed ‘influencer’ among their jobs, David had matched with a guy who appeared to be a nice balance of bookish and handsome. Andrew’s tortoise-shell framed glasses and his flirtatious smirk raised David’s hopes that he might get a decent conversation out of this hookup. The fact that Andrew suggested they meet in midtown had almost been enough for David to call the whole thing off, but then he’d looked at the smirk again and agreed.

The bartender approached David. “Get you a drink?”

David looked up from his phone. “I’d love a French 75 if you have Hendrick’s.”

The bartender nodded. “Can I get you another one?” he said to the man beside David, pointing to his almost empty beer glass.

“Sure, thanks.”

David saw that Alexis had posted a selfie with Stavros in a New York club the night before. He hadn’t even known she was in town.

“Gotta say, I don’t really know what to do with my eyes when there’s no TV behind the bar,” the tourist next to him said suddenly.

David looked up, frustrated that someone was trying to make small talk with him, and blinked a couple of times. “That’s what your phone is for.”

The man talking to him smiled sheepishly. “My battery is terrible so I try not to use it too much.”

“Okay.” David opened his Tinder app but without read receipts, he couldn’t tell if his date had seen his message or not. He glanced around the bar, looking for a man who looked like Andrew’s picture, but he still didn’t seem to have arrived.

“I’m Patrick,” the guy next to him said, holding out his hand for David to shake.

David looked at his hand for just a beat too long before tentatively taking it. “David Rose.”

While he was far from famous, David’s name did inspire a spark of recognition in certain circles. Patrick showed no such recognition. His handshake was firm, skin dry and fingertips calloused. David extracted his hand quickly just as the bartender delivered their drinks.

“What do you do, David?” Patrick asked.

“What’s it like, being from a town small enough to strike up conversations with strangers in bars?” David said, trying to shut the conversation down with a dollop of cruelty.

Patrick didn’t take the hint or if he did, the hint only served to amuse him. He just grinned back at David. “It’s pretty nice, actually. What’s it like living in New York?”

David finally looked the guy up and down. Mid-range denim jeans, wash-and-wear cotton weave light blue shirt, too-short haircut that emphasized the roundness of his face. Cute, with big brown eyes that in the right context could be devastating — the eyes were definitely his best feature.

“In answer to your first question, I’m a gallerist.”

Patrick nodded as if he was considering that. “Hmm, okay. What’s a gallerist?”

David squinted at him, his glass at his lips. “Pretty sure it’s right there in the name. Or do you need me to explain what an art gallery is?”

Laughing and flushing with embarrassment, Patrick held up a hand. “Okay, I deserve that. I guess I’m asking what exactly is involved in being a gallerist?”

“Why?” David asked, his whole body recoiling at the questions from this earnest stranger.

Patrick shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

“I cultivate an aesthetic that centers around outsider art, mostly.”

“And what does that mean?” Patrick asked in an overly patient manner that made David feel like he was being made fun of.

Huffing out an impatient breath, David continued, “I arrange to display artists’ work in my space, I cultivate relationships with buyers, host cocktail receptions for special exhibitions, that sort of thing.” His rings flashed in the dim light of the bar as he used his hands to enunciate each point.

“Sounds like interesting work,” Patrick said, his eyes never leaving David’s. It was unnerving, and a little sexy.

“Let me guess, Patrick. You’re in town on business,” David said, already looking back at his phone to show how disinterested he was in the answer. Trying to get the upper hand again.

Patrick chuckled. “Guilty. I’m attending a tax seminar in Hoboken, and I took the ferry over. This is my first time in New York.”

David’s head whipped up at that. “Well, that’s adorable. Why are you at this bar, though? Shouldn’t you be… going to the top of the Empire State building or something?”

“That’s a bit cliche, isn’t it?”

“Everything about you screams tourist, you may as well lean into the stereotype,” David responded.

“Everything about me screams tourist?”

David rolled his eyes. “Yes. Your whole…” He gestured to encompass all of Patrick. “... vibe.”

Patrick looked down at himself and then back up. “Is that what you’re doing with that shirt and the rings and that drink and with checking Tinder every two minutes? Leaning into the stereotype?”

David gaped at him. He’d been trying to insult this guy a little bit, just enough so that the conversation could be over. He hadn’t expected Patrick to be able to match him.

“Wow, okay.”

Patrick suddenly looked regretful and a little scared. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that in a… homophobic way. I’m not used to talking to people so much more sophisticated than me.”

Sniffing, David looked back at his phone. “No, I imagine not. Oh, fuck.”

“What?”

David turned us phone over on the bar and drank half his drink in one gulp. “My date is flaking on me. And after he made me come up to midtown.”

“Is that bad?” Patrick asked. “Not the flaking part — that’s obviously bad — I meant the midtown part.”

“Not if you’re a tourist trying to get your poster on camera for the Today Show.”

“Ah.” Patrick’s lips twitched. “That would be during the… day though.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Only barely.”

David drummed his fingers on the bar. “You’re from Canada,” he said.

“Come on, I only said ‘sorry’ once.” Patrick said with a grin.

“Your accent is unmistakable,” David said, and then indicated himself. “I have dual citizenship. I was born here, but my parents are Canadian. They still have a place outside of Toronto.”

“Oh, yeah? Where did you spend your childhood?”

David rolled his eyes. “Everywhere. My parents are Moira and Johnny Rose.” When Patrick looked at him blankly, he continued. “My mother’s an actress. My father founded Rose Video.”

That made Patrick’s face light up. “I worked at a Rose Video in high school!”

“How fun for you.” David finished his drink and pulled out his wallet. “Well, I guess it’s time for me to make my escape.”

“Oh.” Patrick’s face betrayed his disappointment, which was interesting. “Who am I going to talk to now?”

David looked over his shoulder at the men in suits who’d been getting louder and drunker. “Those guys?” he said, cocking his thumb at them.

Patrick made a disgusted face. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

It occurred to David for the first time to check Patrick’s left hand. A simple wedding band sat unassumingly on his ring finger. Not that wedding rings said anything about a person’s sexual preferences anymore (if they ever had), but it did say something about this Patrick’s motivations. Either he was just alone and bored in New York and looking for someone to chat with, as it appeared on the surface, or he was looking to cheat on his wife or husband with someone he wouldn’t have to see ever again. David had been on the receiving end of that kind of attention from more than a few wives and husbands over the years. It never felt great, in the end.

On the other hand, those brown eyes were a little bit devastating. And under his cheap Oxford shirt, Patrick’s arms did look nice and strong.

“I guess I could have one more drink,” David heard himself saying.

~*~

“I’m sorry, but that is the most boring fucking job I have ever heard of. If you say it again, I will literally fall asleep at this bar,” David said, tipping the last of his third drink into his mouth.

Patrick grinned widely. “Business manager at an electrical supply company,” he whispered close to David’s ear.

David masked a shudder by theatrically letting his forehead hit the polished surface of the bar, trying not to get distracted by how sexy Patrick’s voice could apparently be, even when he was talking about his dull job.

Patrick laughed and picked up another slider from the plate they were sharing.

“I mean, I know it’s not as glamorous as being a gallerist—”

“You’re right, it isn’t. It isn’t glamorous at all,” David said, debating if he should order one more drink. If he did, he’d cross the line from pleasantly buzzed over into drunk, and that was probably a bad idea for a number of reasons.

“I mean, I’m not the… what was it? ‘Rembrandt of Wall Street’?” Patrick said, referring to something they’d overheard one of the finance bros say before they’d cleared out to go hit another bar. They’d barely suppressed their giggles at the time, and now David allowed himself a full-out laugh, Patrick laughing right along with him. David leaned over in Patrick’s direction in his mirth, losing his balance slightly and catching himself with a hand on Patrick’s denim-clad thigh.

He let his hand stay there just long enough that it still plausibly fell within the realm of an accident, but he took careful note of a tiny catch in Patrick’s breath, and the way he licked his lips as David righted himself. Interesting, he thought.

Patrick had had only had two and a half beers over the last few hours (counting the one he’d almost finished when David arrived), so at least David knew he was in full possession of his faculties. Not that it mattered; why was he worried about whether Patrick was drunk?

Because you want to fuck him, his inner voice supplied. Which was depressing because this very funny, surprisingly attractive button of a man was definitely married, likely to a woman, and nothing good was going to come from going down that road. Best case scenario, Patrick would reject him immediately, being the upstanding person that he was. Worst case scenario, something would happen between them and David would end up getting his heart stepped on.

Patrick was looking at his phone. “Wow, I had no idea what time it was. You don’t have any idea how late the ferries run, do you?”

“Do I look like I ever go to New Jersey?” David asked, taking a bite of the last slider.

Laughing, Patrick flagged down the bartender and asked him the same question.

“You’ve already missed the last one,” the bartender told him. “Separate checks?”

“Shit,” Patrick said at the same time David said, “I’ll take the check.”

“What? No, you don’t have to do that,” Patrick said.

“Please, you saved me from a shameful retreat when my date bailed. It’s the least I can do.”

“I guess I can take a cab back to Hoboken?”

“A cab through the Lincoln Tunnel will cost you at least seventy-five dollars,” the bartender said to Patrick as he handed the little black folder to David.

“Oh,” Patrick said, and David could tell that was a lot of money to him. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for picking up the check.

“I could call you an Uber,” David offered.

“You’re already paying for the drinks and the food, David; I can’t ask you to do that.”

He started to say that the money meant nothing to him, but then he had an idea. “Well, then you can crash at my place and catch the ferry in the morning,” he said as he stuck a credit card in the little pocket and set it on the edge of the bar, trying to seem nonchalant.

He wasn’t looking at Patrick but he could feel his surprise. “Oh… I don’t… I can’t…”

“That’s not a pick-up line, I literally just mean you can crash there. I’m not trying to—”

“No, I know,” Patrick said quickly. David finally looked at him and his eyes were very wide. “It’s just too much of an imposition for someone I just met. And what if I’m an axe murderer?”

David tried to suppress a smile, his lips twisting. “Well, are you an axe murderer?”

“Are you?”

The bartender put the check in front of David, and he quickly filled out the tip line and scratched out his illegible signature. “Yes, but I’m taking a sabbatical from the murdering.”

“What a coincidence, me too,” Patrick said.

“Then it’s settled,” David said, pulling on his leather jacket. “Come on.”

He didn’t really expect that to work but when he headed for the exit, Patrick pulled on his own (much more weather-appropriate) winter coat and joined him.

An Uber appeared like magic a mere minute after he summoned one, and David held the door open for Patrick, letting him get into the car first. Patrick sat silently as they crawled down 9th Avenue, looking out of the window at the storefronts.

“Is there traffic like this at any time of the day or night?” Patrick finally asked.

“It clears out eventually,” David said, watching Patrick. He was fidgeting with his hands, playing with his wedding ring, and David felt a stab of guilt. Yes, there was a level on which this was innocent, but there was another, more true level on which it wasn’t, on which the touch on Patrick’s thigh had been calculated, and the invitation to his apartment a tactic. Still, he could back out and let the innocent explanation for inviting Patrick back to his place become the true one. It wasn’t too late to be honorable for once in his life.

They finally arrived, and David tried to look a little more graceful than he usually did shoving on the sticky vestibule door of his building. He mostly succeeded.

“I can find you an unused toothbrush,” he said as he led Patrick up the stairs. “And if you want to shower tonight or in the morning, I can get you a towel.”

“Thanks again, David. This is incredibly generous.”

David unlocked the door to his apartment and opened it, gesturing for Patrick to go in. “Please, I have a spare bedroom, it’s really no trouble.” After taking Patrick’s coat and carefully hanging it up in the hall closet, David moved deeper into the apartment, flipping on lights as he went. “Do you want a glass of water?”

“Uhh… yeah. Thanks.” Patrick walked over to the living room windows. “This is a really nice apartment.”

David filled a water glass from the pitcher in the fridge and carried it back out to Patrick, standing at Patrick’s side and following his gaze out the window. “It’s not as nice as the apartment I used to have, but it’s fine.”

“What happened to the apartment you used to have?”

David raised his shoulders in a sort of shrug. “Turns out my father’s business manager was embezzling from him a few years ago. He was caught, but he hadn’t been paying taxes for a while so we had to pay…” He suddenly couldn’t think of the word.

“Penalties?”

“Right, penalties. So we had to sell off some stuff, including that apartment. Also, as you can imagine, the video business isn’t what it used to be,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah. So do you not have a Netflix account out of, like, solidarity?”

David laughed. “No, I have a Netflix account. Why, did you want to watch something?”

Patrick shook his head and set his water down on a glass end table. “I should probably get some sleep. I’ll need to be up pretty early in order to make it back to the seminar for the morning session.” He continued to stand rooted on the spot, though, making no move away from David’s side.

“Did you need to charge your cell phone?” David asked. “You mentioned earlier—”

“Oh. Yeah, thanks.” Patrick pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. David made a face at his cheap Nokia phone with the chipped edges, but he opened a drawer under his coffee table and pulled out a tangle of different chargers, some of which had been left behind by people he’d dated. He quickly found a suitable one and plugged in Patrick’s phone.

“Okay, well, spare bedroom is right over there,” David said, returning to Patrick’s side and indicating the door next to the one that led to his own room. The atmosphere between them felt heavy, and David knew he should move away from Patrick, go get him a towel or something to defuse things, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

Then Patrick made a tiny move of his head, infinitesimal really, in David’s direction, and that was all David could take. He met him more than halfway, mouth on Patrick’s and hand coming up to cup the back of his head. The kiss was relatively chaste, but there was no question that Patrick was on board for it, his lips nipping at David’s bottom one, one of his hands clutching at David’s bicep. David felt a bit like a dam was breaking on the desire that had been building between them all night, and he let himself enjoy the few blissful seconds of that kiss.

“And when I said I wasn’t trying to pick you up,” David whispered when they parted, “that didn’t mean I was averse to picking you up.”

Patrick’s still held onto his arm, but his facial expression was pained. “David, I’m married.”

“Yeah, I noticed the ring.”

“To a… to a woman. I’ve never done that before with a guy. So…”

“Oh.” David did take a step back then. So that’s what this was. A small-town closet case who’d gotten married under false pretenses. Not exactly what he’d hoped he was signing up for. “Is it a religious thing? Are you one of those guys who’s been scarred by conversion therapy?”

Patrick shook his head quickly. “No, nothing like that. I really thought…” He ran his hands over his face. “Holy shit, how could I not know that that’s what kissing someone is supposed to feel like?”

David couldn’t help preening a little bit at that. “I don’t think I’ve ever been a sexual revelation to someone before.”

With an uneasy chuckle, Patrick let himself drop onto the sofa. “What am I doing? Why did I come here?” he murmured, almost to himself.

David sat down on the sofa too, leaving a space between them. “Look, it can end right here. You go sleep in the guest room and I’ll go sleep in my room, and…” He threw up his hands. “And in the morning you won’t even have to see me, because I’m not really a morning person, so…” He trailed off into an uncomfortable silence.

Patrick was fidgeting with his hands again, twisting his wedding ring. “My intention wasn’t to… treat you like an experiment, and that must be what this seems like. As if I set out this evening to go to a bar in a big city and meet an anonymous man so that I could test drive a… another sexual orientation.”

David gave him a sheepish shrug. It didn’t not seem like that.

“I started talking to you for the exact reason you said: I’m from a small town where you make conversation with the guy sitting next to you at the bar. But David, I…” He looked up finally then, and fuck, those brown eyes were exactly as devastating as David had feared they could be. “Thinking about it now, I was attracted to you from the moment you shook my hand, and I honestly don’t know if it’s just you or men in general, but if it is men in general that would certainly explain a lot of things about my—”

David put a hand over Patrick’s to stop his manic motion, and it simultaneously stopped his mouth from moving, the tumult of words drying up as rapidly as they had started. It was a relief. Patrick’s openness was turning David inside out; he wasn’t used to being around people who said exactly what they were thinking, who didn’t play games, whose every word wasn’t calculated to manipulate.

“It’s okay. Whatever you’re feeling is okay. And whatever you want to do is okay,” David said, and then winced. He was definitely going to regret this, but he couldn’t help himself. The idea of helping this man discover a new side of himself was too tempting to resist. “I can be… if you need to test things out and see the way you feel with a man, then I can be that. For you.”

Patrick’s eyes widened, then dropped to David’s lips. “Why would you do that?”

“Umm, because you’re hot?” David said flippantly, trying to lighten things up. “And because it seems like you need a push in the queer direction,” he added with a gentle laugh.

A quick smile flashed across Patrick’s face before his face turned serious again, his eyes still trained on David’s mouth. And then he leaned in.

Chapter 4

#schitt's creek #schitts creek #david x patrick #david x patrick ff #schitt's creek ff #hdwgb fic #my fic

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imaginedilestrade · 7 years ago

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Soul before sovereign. (3/?)

Summary: While studying history at university, an unlikely encounter between a mysterious, handsome man in glasses makes your last year at the uni a memorable one.

Warnings: swearing, fluff

A/N: Ahhhh I love how adorable this part is! Again, thank you all so much! I'm glad you're all enjoying this fic. I hope you enjoy this part 😁❤️ Have a great weekend!

Missed the last part? Catch up here

——————————

Chapter 3

——————

"Hi!" You were surprisingly cheery the next morning as you greeted the barista in the coffee shop, it was the same man as yesterday. You had plenty of time before your afternoon class and decided to kill it in a spot you had grown to love while at university. "Can I get-"

"Flat white extra shot? I'm on it!" He smiled and put through your order.

You cocked a brow "How did you...?" You couldn't even finish your question you were so taken aback.

"I see you come in here a few times a week, I tend to remember frequent customers and their orders. I'm Mike, Mike Stamford."

"Nice to properly meet you Mike, I'm Y/N," you shook his hand before an idea popped into your mind "Do you think you'd remember that guy who paid for my coffee yesterday?" You asked and he confidently nodded. You took out your purse and handed him over more than half of what you owed "If he comes in tell him it's already paid for along with a treat, say..." you thought for a moment before lightly laughing out your answer "Say 'courtesy of psychotic butcher with a knife', he'll know what it means."

"Okay..." he looked at you as if you were mad but handed over your coffee and agreed to your petty payback idea. You took a seat in the booth you sat in the previous day and sipped away on your hot drink. You only realised then how secluded it was from the rest of the shop, you could just see the bar and half a table.

You pulled out your laptop from your bag and got to work, an hour had easily passed when you heard the distinctive bell above the door ring. "Y/N!" Mary waved and joined you "I thought you had class?"

"I do in half an hour, are you finished for the day?"

"Indeed I am! Sally and I are going out tonight and I think Molly's joining us too, you should tag along as well!" The blonde haired woman almost pleaded, you hadn't been out with them for a while. The workload you had for uni was a lot, but they claimed the almost two hour round trip to the city was always worth a night out. You would have rather popped down to the local pub ten minutes down the road.

"Next time, I swear!" She let out a defeated groan "I've got to finish my essay!" You explained "It's part of my final thesis but I promise I'll come in a night out with you and Molly soon."

Mary pointed a playful yet stern finger at you "I'll be holding you to that Miss Y/L/N!"

"I'm sure you will, I've got to head to class to I'll see you later!" You gave her a small hug before running up the hill to the university. You stopped at the top of the grassy hill seeing Greg passing by "Hey!" You greeted him and he smiled from one ear to the other "Did you have class today?"

"I did, just finished actually. Want to grab a coffee?" He asked as you both moved in a circle before suddenly stoping. Even though you were just in the coffee shop, you wanted to go back with him.

"Sorry I can't, I have class." Greg could hear the disappointment in your voice. Your eyes wandered down to the books needled between his arm and torso, "Renaissance period art?" Greg glanced down at what you were looking at "I actually have a book on history and art if you want it? I bought it when I first started uni and used a total of two times," you lightly laughed "You can pop over later and get it. My roommates are out so you can join me for dinner," a moment passed before you quickly added: "If you want to, of course!"

"A book and dinner?" Greg smirked "Is this like a date...?" He playfully teased and you rolled your eyes, lightly pushing his shoulder.

"No! It's more like a 'come pick up this book so I can replace it with another book I've had my eye on but I don't have the space in my room right now and while you're at my flat, I'll be a kind and considerate person and let you stay and offer you dinner. If you want dinner.'" You said in an almost matter-of-fact tone.

"I'd like that," your heart skipped a beat at his response and you couldn't help but gently bite down on your bottom lip "Is seven a good time?"

"Perfect! Uh..." you went into your bag and fumbled to find a pen and piece of paper. You ripped a bit off your notebook "Turn around," Greg, with a raised brow, did as you asked and you used his back to lean on as you scribbled down your address and mobile number, he couldn't help but smile at how normal you made him feel, that you saw him as a person and not a prince. When you finished he turned back around and took it off you. "I'll see you then!" You chirped and waved him goodbye while scampering off to class.

He watched as you left and clutched onto the piece of paper a little bit tighter, as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

Greg noticed you looking back for a split second with a smile on your face. He bashfully smirked and rubbed the back of his neck. You soon disappeared into the building and Greg let out a shaky sigh, he couldn't wait for tonight.

You settled down in your class and took out your things ready to take as many notes as you could for your final thesis piece. By the time your class was finished it had started to get dark outside. It was approaching winter and wasn't surprising that the night had started to roll in at 5:45pm.

Arriving back in your flat, you practically tossed off your scarf that protected your neck from the nipping November air. Mary and Molly had left a little note on the kitchen counter to tell you they were out, so you spent the hour you had before Greg arrived to tidy up the flat.

Seconds after you had finished, the doorbell rang.

Taking a deep breath, you approached the door. You wondered why your fingers were trembling so much. You opened the door and came face to face with the man in the tortoise shell patterned glasses and felt yourself smile 'That's why...' you mentally mused. "Hey! Come in!"

You moved out the way and snorted with laughter seeing Greg gripping onto a two cup coffee holder and a little brown bag "I should really thank that butcher..." he trailed off, playfully glaring at you.

"That's payback," you stuck your tongue out before Greg handed you the things he was holding so he could take off his jacket, you placed them down on the table. "I was thinking Chinese for dinner?"

"That's good with me," Greg replied as he took in your flat. "How many of you live here?"

"Just me and my two roommates, Molly and Mary. They both do nursing at the university so I'm the 'boring' one in the house," you made a motion with your hands around the word 'boring' while rolling your eyes. "But I love living with them, we all look out for each other and I'm glad they live with me. I mean, if I stayed on my own I'd be living off instant noodles and chocolate!" You laughed and Greg chuckled. "I'll give you a grand tour after dinner," you went to the kitchen and pulled the menu off the fridge before joining him on the couch "Pick anything you want, my treat."

Greg's jaw gaped slightly "No, you pre-paid the coffee, let me get it."

"Greg," his name rolled off your tongue with a breathily laugh, effortlessly "You're a guest in my flat, so I'm getting dinner. No buts!" With a defeated sigh he told you what he wanted and you ordered it. "Usually takes about half an hour to get here, hold on and I'll get you that book." You walked off to your room and Greg's eyes followed you the entire way until you disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a book in your hand.

He took the book with a thanks and skimmed through the pages before lightly gasping "This is really good! Look," he shifted closer and showed you a page with an excited smile, you gazed at him for a moment before looking at the page in front of you "It's about Michelangelo..."

"I thought he was a ninja turtle?" Greg looked up to you with a raised brow, your face was expressionless "I honestly don't know the first thing about art!" You held your hands up in defence with a smirk.

"Please tell me your kidding..."

"Yeah, I'm kidding" you laughed and nudged his arm with your own and he let out a sigh of relief between his laughs "I'm not an idiot." You leaned across and grabbed your coffee, it was lukewarm by the time you drank it but you still hummed with delight. "Sherrinford does the best coffee..."

"I also got you a piece of millionaires shortbread," Greg nodded at the bag and picked up his own coffee.

You gasped and grabbed the bag "Oh my fucking god!" You squealed "I love these! They are about the size of your fist." Greg felt his heart palpitate irregularly seeing your face light up. "We can split it and have it for dessert after dinner, there's some ice cream in the freezer if you want to have some with it."

Greg smiled and felt himself relax being in your company. He was always so highly strung from dealing with various duties he was responsible for as a prince and as a member of the royal family. He loved his life but felt like he never had the time to breathe or appreciate the little things, like spending time with someone over a cup of coffee. Even though he had only spent a small amount of time with you in the last few days, you made him feel like a real person and not a prince.

A way he only dreamt of feeling.

"Earth to Greg..." you waved your hand in front of his face with the corner of your lips twitching upwards "Still there?"

He snapped back into reality, clearing his throat before replying "Yeah, sorry!"

You shifted a little on the couch and continued to find out a bit more about him "So you joined the class for the last year? You did three years somewhere else?"

"Yeah I was studying at home but I just wanted to find my feet, have a bit of independence and meet people just as amazing as you." You glanced down at your knees hoping he wouldn't see your cheeks flush a bright pink as you blushed. He grinned and before you could ask another question, the flat filled with the sound of someone knocking on the front door.

"That will be dinner!" You stood up, Greg ran a nervous hand through his hair. What were you doing to him?

————————————

Tags: (let me know if you'd like to be tagged/untagged)

@daynaan-black-dawn @the-baby-bookworm @imnottalkingtoyou @theyre-my-divsion @girl-next-door-writes @annkli @wcsteland @heyyou-guys @princesspeach212 @babynovak05 @holmes-maev @damnitman-jamlocked-inthetardis @redgreyandpurple @sherlockedtash88 @-waythe- (link not working) @laterthantherabbit @becauseflife @disneymarina @blackloveangel13

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grayberry18 · 4 years ago

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northernwinedregs · 7 years ago

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This Is Moaning - Chapter Three

[one] [two]

Every Saturday for the past year, I've set up a stall in the middle of the market of my home town under a banner that simply reads 'Tell Me About This Place.' Maybe there's something to talking with a seemingly anonymous stranger; people have been more candid with me than they might be with their partners, their friends, their doctors, their therapists. I've had people tell me about their lives, their hopes, their frustrations, their ambitions, their complaints. I now about their secrets, their hates, their fears. They told me about the affairs they were having. I've learned more about the human geography of this place, a town I grew up despising. All the names have been changed, as is only fair. But these are some of the stories from this past year. I listened, I wrote them down, and now I'm sharing them with you.

Welcome to Moaning.

Chapter Three

“I've lived here all my life. Born here. Raised here. Thought I died here once, but that turned out just to be a big sneeze.”

Richard Goose, 74

From the way you come into Moaning, you might incorrectly think it a beautiful place. The early hours of placid morning shield you from the clattering rattle of rage and commuting misery that the nine o'clock news will send chundering through the streets. For now, before the collected munch of plain white toast and slurp of instant butter from improvised napkin/sock, before the buses start wheezing and spluttering and coughing, before the crows carry last night's discarded kebab scraps into the desolate playgrounds for brunch, everything is still and serene, quiet the way morgues are, spread thinly with a domesticated silence broken only by the suicidal neighs of bored horses in fields and the opinionated gossip of collared doves in the salons of the trees. As you walk, one foot before the other, as seven out of ten leading podiatrists recommend, you wonder if it's such a bad place after all. It's sort of greenish, in that nondescript way that so much of England is. It's less fair and pastoral, more the green of sickly moss, of neglected bread that got accidentally kicked under the freezer for an eighteen month-long residency. It's the green that's such friendly neighbours with mud. Green that's spelled 'bilious.' Green that comes in a discontinued paint tin marked 'syphilitic tortoise.'

To be fair, you picked a bad day to turn a stranger's eye to your hometown. On less queasy-skied days, from your vantage point next to the “Please Slow Down” signs, the view is remarkable (but then again, there is literally nothing that cannot be described as worthy of being remarked upon), a greasy palette of green and brown fields that kaleidoscope into something more beautiful than individual strips of combed mud. A view which, pending an amateurish cataracts diagnosis, could warp and coalesce to picturesque, an adjective that's become less insistent of itself since the widespread availability of phones that can take pictures. These days even eyebrows are picturesque. Still, you can see, if only grudgingly, why someone would come across this rough bowl of God's green soup and decide to found a town, long before it descended to a cardboard caricature set of pubs, discount biscuit shops and betting outlets.

But come here they did, and the baton of ages has been passed from generation to generation, tumbling over the dust of lifetimes, to arrive at you, walking without thinking, stepping forwards into this town that has shaped and raised you as much as your parents. We all acknowledge ourselves to be a product of our surroundings, but that normally comes down to public admissions of love, or the threat of raised fists, or the ready access to pocket money, or the sorts of newspapers that made it into our homes, or whether the pavements outside were smooth, or whether you get your clothes first or second hand. Those sorts of things do not define us, but they draw a rough outline to start with. How cynically we celebrated Christmas. If you ever saw your parents kiss. If you could trust the police. What we recognise less is the sheer geography of the places we called, or were begrudged to call, home. How the curving spine of roads and mountains shaped the length of our stride, how the concrete warped our feet to meet their cobbled slabs; how we are but part of a production peopled by streets and shops and sirens, clouds and curses and curtains, and whether as a result, we gracefully bow before a rapturous audience, or instead just skulk off to get high in the dressing room.

We are, in the end, not just what we eat, but what we say, what we pass. What we demolish or refuse to go on funding. Who we ignore and who we celebrate. We are speed limits and local election turnouts. We are what we choose to put on a two-for-one offer. We are the regularity of buses, the time it takes to see a doctor. We are the sum results of home towns all over the world. Part-pork pie, part-park path.

You have, for the most part, the roads to yourself: the sounds belong to you, staggering breath caught and reeled in by the cold, the industrious slap of shoe against concrete, pavements warped and reconfigured as cooled and once-molten rock, buffed down by an over-enthusiastic pedestrian surgeon. You pass houses, their blank faces silently screaming in the darkness. Occasionally you see a light, a long-shadowing lamp or fluorescent tube pulsing from a kitchen or living-room, where someone inside is resigning themselves to work or school, kneeling before the altar of instant coffee, enduring eighteen seconds of mortifying world news, before siding with the continued health of their soul by turning the channel to lucrative re-runs of some American war crime of a sitcom. The catchphrase here in Moaning is nothing but a long sigh, a beleaguered rubbing of unmoisturised hand over tired face, and a sinking feeling that yet another abysmal-weathered day is beginning. Here, laughter is not canned, but baked beans with little gelatinous sausages are. Here, only grey skies are syndicated.

Here in Moaning we wake with the awful realisation that not only is this Life, corporately logo'd and aggressively advertised Life, but Our Life, and the one we inexplicably find ourselves having to mercilessly lead. Even the birds sitting in nutrient-starved trees are shivering and thinking about the day's first cigarette. A kingly fox, coming home after a long graveyard shift of sifting through bins to find something other than fried chicken bones (just for a change), stops to stare as you walk past, offering a solemn and slow-blinking nod as if to say, “I know mate, rough night.” As you pass one house, through an open kitchen window you hear what you both hope and assume is a baby crying, its raid siren wail cutting through the morning's quiet like austerity measures through a mental health clinic, and faced with the scant options available in Moaning, you know exactly how that baby feels.

You walk away from the main road, which is ashamed about the litter acned across its face, the inconsistent pebble-dashing of scrunched fag boxes and crisp packets and parcels that were unable to be delivered in the miniscule estimated window between 6am and 9pm (even now a different fox is pawing tentatively at a dew-darkened brown box, hoping to find something edible with a bit more fibre than it's accustomed to. Its cubs are sick of donner meat scraps and pepperoni pizza crusts. In fact, what's actually in the box is an industrial strength vibrator modelled on the exact dimensions of a newly-famed contestant from a celebrity reality show, who eschewed a traditional catchphrase in favour of repeatedly exposing his exasperatingly large member). You wander aimlessly, away from the main road and into a collapsing warren of cul-de-sacs, residential areas and rows of terraces. There's a man sat smoking on his front step, dressed only in a neon pink child's dressing gown, exposing his rage-swollen testicles for all the world to see. He nods at you. With his face.

These sunken-shouldered houses squat side to side, industrial red brick smooching year round Christmas decorations, the town as uniformed police force trapped on perpetual work outing. Here, a front garden means weed-freckled patches of concrete, for the most part vagrant, but occasionally populated with black bags of rubbish or an abandoned installation of rust that may once have been a functioning bicycle, or a dejected item of white goods, a chest freezer than now doubles up as a waterlogged submarine to play in, or else an unnecessary doghouse, or a sleeping person whose epic return from the pub was tragically thwarted by an obstinate front door which insisted on opening only to the Chosen Key.

As you walk, there's occasionally a small shop or supermarket – modernity has not yet fully reached Moaning and so candlestick maker stands beside launderette, bakery next to walking cane store – and it is in the car park of one such little supermarket that you see pigeons, teeming seemingly in their thousands, stripping the ground of discarded crisps and fizzy pop, small birds jacked up on energy drinks and pork scratching crumbs. Your approaching footsteps trigger their caffeinated anxiety, and the flock goes up in a messy riot of dusty wings and chip fragments. They circle in splattered formation, wheeling over the houses to eventually thud on roofs and sagging telephone cables, to jostle and impatiently watch, as though they've picked up a few tricks from vultures on documentaries seen through front room windows. As soon as you'll leave, they'll re-descend to finish off their breakfast of off-brand cola and floor-presented fish batter. You walk in the five o'clock shadow of the regional chain supermarket (“new location in Small Burbridge coming next year!” a sign outside reads), its face orthodontically wired in graffitied white shutters; by day its grubbish entrance welcomes a revolving cast of shoplifters, exhausted parents, exhausting children, bored teenagers and money-shriven shoppers who are jealous of the audaciousness of the shoplifters but too meek or law-conscious to cross the picket line and tuck a thirty-two-bag family-intended compilation of crisps (several flavours: Salted Salt, Salty Vinegar, Salt and Onion, Salt And Salt, Salty Salt Again, Salt and Salt Again, and Plain) under their jackets to claim pregnancy of very rustly twins. “Scab!” protesting thieves yell at those who belittle their community by handing over coins for their hardly earned purchases. “You should be ashamed!”

Outside the shop, a man sits in the driver's seat of his car, having decided that it was too difficult to successfully do his commute from the more luxurious choice of the back seat. He rubs his face with the weariness that only twenty-seven years doing the same thing for a living can bring. A job for life, he once reasoned, was supposed to be a good thing, a measure of financial security. But know he knows the difference between a job for life and a job for a lifetime, and today he feels the weight and age of it as a judicial sentence.

It can be easy to think that places like Moaning are where ambition comes to die, and for the majority of its inhabitants, it marks only an insignificant blob on the map that defines the microscopic distance travelled between places of birth and death. When they gratefully collapse into Death's sticky embrace, some can boast, or at least mention, that their deathbed window is within sight of the very room in which they entered this world; Moaning becomes nothing but the dullest of carousels, alighted and rotated for but a minute, a short lifetime, taking in the sights of youth and adulthood and middle age and old age, before stepping off with nothing to show for themselves but the memories of light and sound. “I want to go again,” they may say, but Death, attendant of life's carnival, merely shakes its head and explains that their coupon is only valid for a one-time entry.

There's almost a perverse pride that people in Moaning cradle, celebrating the tiny exodus from Saint Hopeful's Hospital on Smallot Street to lifelong home on Meek Avenue to soft grave in Knackered Meadows Cemetery. All that the light touches, my son, will one day be yours. But it's looking pretty overcast so I wouldn't get your hopes up.

So the supermarket manager sits in his car and thinks about what it's all for. Maybe he once dreamed of being a lion tamer, or lion torturer, or porn star, or supermarket regional manager, or professional yoghurt interpreter, or politician, or worm, but he has his bed, made consistently for twenty-seven years, and all he has to show for it is a slightly superior tog of duvet. That, and a delightful wife and two brilliant children, all of whom he adores and is immensely proud, but he isn't about to let something as ordinary as marital bliss and a perfect legacy ruin his carefully constructed bad mood. He's spent almost three decades honing a foul temper for the daily audience of his employees.

He was born and raised here (in Moaning, not the supermarket itself – they haven't allowed births in there since they lost an entire shipment of frozen peas to the unexpectedly early arrival of Mrs Ferris's twins, one of whom now works in the very same supermarket and is an average member of staff, the other of whom does very little but smoke weed, masturbate to animated cartoon pornography and harass the park's pigeon community) and so he knows what is expected of him: you cannot be seen to be happy in Moaning. It just smacks of showing off, like going to university, or reading a newspaper that has adjectives, or putting a wedge of lime in a larger. Even if people are happy, visual confirmation or verbal admission is the social equivalent of stepping on someone's foot at a funeral to stop their whole 'wah wah wah who would do this to a five year-old' shtick: it's just not polite to do.

Life in Moaning is to be met with a stiff upper lip, a lip that is ready to converse about the weather and miniscule complaints, grumbles worn as badges of honour. Any life that is seen to be too wholesome or interesting or fulfilling is a sure sign of deceit, guilt, stupidity, homosexuality, Communism, or vegetarianism, all of which are forbidden – not by law, but by unspoken agreement – in Moaning.

#writing #long reads #long read #creative writing #longread #this is moaning #chapter three

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tvvolips · 7 years ago

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🎈 /at donnie's house and they were not invited

send 🎈 for our muses to go to a halloween party together

6:30 pm: DONNIE SCHENCK glances uncertainly in the mirror with his ax held to his chest, never been one for Halloween, would rather sit in bed and read Stephen King. BETSY SCHENCK slips up behind him, unbuttons the top few buttons on his flannel shirt before she’s giving his suspenders a tug, “Don’t think no lumberjacks ever existed in Annville, but you’re the hottest one I’ve ever seen,” she winks, he smiles, she leaves. Betsy’s dressed similarly, though Donnie’s outfit doesn’t bare his whole midriff like her’s, nor was it labelled “naughty lumbermaid.” This party’s been in the planning for months now, Betsy’s passed out invitations to all those at QM&P that she deemed worthy, to those of Donnie’s friends in Annville that she knew wouldn’t get dumb drunk and stupid, and a select few that they sorta knew from church. There was a blacklist, one compiled of two names:

JESSE CUSTER & TULIP O’HARE peer into the minuscule window leading into the Schenck’s cellar; Tulip’s jimmied it open with the crowbar she’s packed in her bag. IN REALITY, it’s only Tulip glaring into the small cellar, Jesse’s eyes drift to the form-fitting dress hugging her body, the cute ‘lil beret atop her head. She makes a pretty Bonnie Parker, and, in his modest opinion, he makes a pretty cool Clyde Barrow. “—we wait it out down in there ‘till seven, sneak up, and see how long it takes ‘till Betsy’s crowin’ at our asses.”

“Huh.”

Her beret nearly dismounts as Tulip whips her head around to give him a severe glare, “I said we’re gonna stay down here ‘till seven and then we’ll slip up into the party.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just walk through the front door,” Jesse amicably offers, sweet “god loves us all and wants us to treat each other well” boy that he is. Tulip scoffs, gives a cumbersome roll of her eyes, “You remember all them parties Betsy had when we were friggin’ seven?” “Yeah, she had ‘em for every season,” “You remember how we were NEVER invited to a single one?” “Yeah—are you tellin’ me THAT’S why we’re doin’ this, Tulip? ‘Cos you’re sore over some dumb invitations?”

Tulip lifts her chin a bit, gives a soft hmph, “No.”

Jesse’s not about to poke the pissed-off-porcupine, “What’re we gonna do down there for thirty minutes?” He knows somethin’ they could do, just doesn’t know if she’s gonna wanna, but then Tulip’s giving him a sweeping one-two with her eyes (Jesse’s doing his best James Dean smolder) and giving a quirk of her brow, “Oh, I got some ideas.”

6:55 pm: “Shit, Donnie, baby? Could you go down to the cellar and grab some duct tape? I gotta hang these damn intestines.” Donnie gives a grunt that equates to, “yes dear,” unphased by the dried-up cow intestines that are going up on the ceiling. With the enthusiasm of a tortoise, Donnie trudges to the cellar door, pauses outside of it as he catches wind of a soft cry. Blue eyes fix on the door for a moment before he hears a grunt, instinctively grabs the double-barreled shotgun in the corner (as scattered surplus weaponry is traditional in any TRUE Texan home). Weapon drawn, Donnie creaks the door open with his boot, squints as he tries to make out the noises below. He skips the first step (it creaks) for the second, slowly makes his descent, “fuck—you could live down there, couldn’t ya?—c’mon up here and fuck me—” there’s a male chuckle, and Donnie already knows who it is as he rounds the corner, his aim landing upon a buck naked Jesse Custer grinning up from between the legs of an equally buck naked Tulip O’Hare, seated atop some boxes of Betsy’s old ‘outfits’ for him. Jesse’s got a goddamn beret on his dumb head, O’Hare’s got a fedora, both of ‘em make him wanna puke. Tulip’s the first to notice him, just arches her head to the side with a damnable smile, “Oh, hey Donnie,” Jesse straightens, turns around and looks at him with a raised brow, “Hey Donnie,” he echoes.

This has gotta be a dream sequence, just like in the damn horror novellas; he’s walking into a living nightmare. Donnie blinks three times before, slowly, he turns around and walks out the way he came, ignoring the low laughter trailing up behind him.

7:10 pm: “Donnie, did you ever get that duct tape? The party’s started and I don’t got this shit hangin’ off the ceiling. We’re already down one keg too, can you believe that Clive? I SAID we shouldn’t invite him, y’know—babe? You look like you saw a ghost.” “Huh?” dumbly responds, blinks a few times before glancing up to Betsy’s somewhat concerned features, “Naw, it’s nothin’,” her brow unfurrows, she shrugs, “Fine, but that don’t excuse my lack of duct tape.”

Betsy brushes past him, forces a homely smile upon her face as she exits the kitchen for the living room. Sharp eyes survey her guests, pleased to find that her co-workers seem pleased, Emily Woodrow’s made her way up with Miles Person. Emily’s in her Flavor Station outfit, a pair of mouse-ears on her head. Betsy sneers; the little idiot couldn’t even get a real costume? Why’s she look so bothered—her eyes trail from Emily’s disturbed gaze to the couch, where Tulip O-fuckin’-hare is seated upon Jesse-fuckin’-Custer’s lap, grinning like a goddamn she-devil as the two clank beer bottles together. Betsy opens her mouth a few times, emitting a few, outraged stutters. They were strictly forbidden, how the HELL…

“Aw, hey Betsy,” Custer offers a friendly smile and O’Hare’s turning with an infuriatingly pleased smile of her own, “LOVE the decorations, Betsy, a bit lackin’ in the intestine department, don’t you agree?” she turns to Custer, who gives a studious nod. THANKFULLY Donnie trails by, still a little pale. “Donnie, how’d they get in here?” Betsy’s demanding, prompting her husband to stop in his tracks. Slowly, he glances down to Custer and O’Hare, looks to her with a neutral expression, “They ain’t here,” is all Donnie says before resuming his aimless wandering (so much skin, so much skin). Betsy glances around the room, all the eyes on her, like she’s a fool, GOD, they’ll be talking about this for weeks. If she can’t even keep the two idiots out of her own house, how can she keep her marriage together? Her family? Her—

Betsy pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment before she’s forcing a jarringly cheery smile, forcing her eyes around the room before she’s briskly walking for the kitchen, muttering under her breath.

“See? Now that was worth it,” Tulip murmurs to Jesse as she peers over his shoulder, a pleased, relaxed little smirk settled upon her lips, “Free beer and food don’t make it half-bad, either,” Jesse adds, crookedly grinning as he takes a swig of his bottle. They share a few moments of comfortable silence, it’s nice nestling up like this in front of a crowd that mostly doesn’t wish them anything but the worst, shows ‘em how damn impenetrable they are.

A few more beats of silence.

Jesse isn’t quite as forthcoming in his deviancy as Tulip O’Hare, though an idea’s come to mind: “You think their bedroom’s available?”

Tulip draws her head from his shoulder, eyes wide in incredulous disbelief, “Really?” He grins, “Really.” A spark of eager joy comes to her eyes, lips splitting into a ridiculously pleased grin, “We oughta find out, Barrow.” “After you, Miss Parker.”

11:30 pm: Despite the bad start, Betsy’s pleased. Everyone left in good spirits, all her homemade salsa is gone, she’s sure everyone’ll be dying to get invited to next year’s party, hell, maybe she ought to start a waiting list now. The woman stretches her arms above her head, glancing, with mild irritation, at Donnie as he snoozes on the sofa. He can find his own way to bed, she’s earned a good night’s sleep.

There’s a click as she turns the bedroom light on, a few beats before Donnie Schenck’s jolting up after Betsy’s scream:

“GODDAMMIT! YOU GODDAMN HOOLIGANS GET OUTTA THIS GODDAMN HOME BEFORE I BLOW BOTH YOUR DAMN HEADS IN! HAVEN’T YOU DONE ENOUGH?!”

Despite it all, Donnie gives a soft snort of amusement. His wife really had the propensity to sound like a raving hen, sometimes.

#julip #preacher fanfic #tulip o'hare #jesse custer #im tagging it bc i wanna it's cute fjsdiofod #;meme reply #praecher #<3

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iamjim · 5 years ago

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Learning to walk.

‘Know how to walk and you know how to live', suggests the author Stephen Graham in The Gentle Art of tramping. I have tramped, traipsed, bimbled, strolled, hiked, sauntered and wandered for over fourty years. But with all these years of footing it, do I really know how to walk beyond the simple mechanics of it? Can I learn how to walk better and in turn learn better how to live?

If Forest Gump was going somewhere, he was running. Throughout my early childhood in a car-less family of six, if I was going somewhere, I was walking. From school and back everyday, a 5 mile round trip in every kind of weather, to traipsing into town on a Saturday to help mum with the shopping, bulging Kwik Save bags cutting the circulation in my finger-ends on the trudge home, then Sunday morning was a stroll to Church for early mass with a quick-walk back to catch the last of the morning cartoons, walking was at the centre of family life. I never considered walking as anything other than simply how I traveled anywhere. Some years later the opportunity for my walking, and my relationship with walking, was changed when the family car finally arrived.

I was ten years old when a beige Ford Cortina with faux tiger skin seat covers pulled up outside our house, my grinning mum at the wheel. If a Rolls Royce had turned up instead, I don't think I'd have been any more impressed. During the school holidays that summer, mum and dad filled the car with my sisters and me, a flask and sandwiches for the way and headed North. Two hours later and we arrived at what I now hold as my heaven on earth, my place of retreat, my Shangri-la; the English Lake District. I found there a playground for the wanderer, a place to walk just for the pleasure of it, a place I now appreciate for the space both physically and mentally that being there gives me. I have walked countless memories into the mud, fells and paths that I struggle to stay in the present when wandering ways I have walked for years, the memories return unbidden and thick.

I am still learning how to walk. I am more Tortoise than Hare, a Camel rather than a Horse; in it for the distance, not the dash. I want to take joy in the way itself rather than delay gratification for some peak or place down the path. Henri Cartier Bresson, one of the most important photographers of the 20th century said “To take a photograph is to align the head, the eye, and the heart. It’s a way of life.” I think walking may be the same. Know how to walk, and you know how to live: with your head, your eye and your heart.

#lakedistrict #walking #alifeonfoot

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corkcrab7-blog · 5 years ago

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Artist of the Week: On “Universal Beings,” Makaya McCraven Broadens His Jazz Appeal

The history of Chicago jazz can be divided into two eras: before and after the establishment of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM). Founded in 1965 by artists Muhal Richard Abrams, Jodie Christian, Steve McCall, and Phil Cohran, the collective quickly set an identity for Chicago’s most ambitious musicians, fostering a home for multi-instrumentalists Anthony Braxton and Henry Threadgill, and The Art Ensemble of Chicago.

As popularity and interest in jazz began to wane towards the late ‘70s and into the early ‘80s, the AACM became an even more vital institution for young musicians hoping to find a sustainable way to pursue music without sacrificing intergrity.

“There are so many musicians that come from that era of Chicago who have helped create the style of jazz that you listen to today,” says Junius Paul, a staple of the city’s current jazz scene and the bass player for the current iteration of the Art Ensemble of Chicago. “You listen to a lot of musicians now playing free, creative, and open music, and a lot of that originated here in Chicago.”

A product of this history is Makaya McCraven, an experimental jazz drummer who has spent several years cultivating his own unique sound and movement within the Windy City. He’s become a quiet force in Chicago, known for his incredible live performances and unique style of recording (more on that later). And while Kamasi Washington’s blustery gospel-infused jazz has made him the genre’s trendiest musician, McCraven takes the exact opposite approach: His latest album, Universal Beings, plays like a meditative beat tape—full of lush instrumentation and star turns from some of the best players in jazz. Though the album is McCraven’s fifth project overall, it feels like a grand culmination of all the hard work that’s gotten him to this point.

Long before this moment, McCraven was a notable artist looking to make an impact in his adopted city. Originally from Amherst, Massachusetts, he used to fly back and forth from Chicago to the East Coast to play gigs with his original cohort of musicians. In the Midwest, he’d meet others with whom he still has a bond today. “I had to start from scratch,” McCraven says of his move to the Windy City. “I had a full, professional career by the time I got to Chicago. So when I moved there, the city wasn’t national or international enough that I showed up there and people knew me. My identity was never anchored in Chicago in that sense.”

McCraven began developing a deep love for jazz and the various subgenres that bubbled beneath it at a young age. To pursue music more seriously, he left for Chicago a dozen years ago at the age of 24, and because of an unrelenting work ethic, he eventually became a staple of the city’s scene. The process wasn’t immediately gratifying, though. He’d been in Chicago for three or four years when he first performed with Jeff Parker, an experimental guitar and composer who’d also become his labelmate on International Anthem. Parker appears on the fourth side of the Universal Beings double-disc LP, just as the record becomes more psychedelic and rooted in folk-jazz. Universal Beings represents the broad intersection of music that makes Chicago one of the world’s foremost creative hubs. “It’s a really culturally rich city,” Parker says. “There’s a gospel scene, an African scene, mainstream jazz, creative free jazz, improvising, all sorts of stuff. Pretty much anything you can imagine.”

But while Universal Beings feels like a McCraven record, he’s also branching out in ways he hadn’t before. Early albums, like his 2015 debut—and the third International Anthem release ever—In the Moment, was born from a distinctive recording style in which McCraven recorded a year’s worth of shows and spliced and chopped them into jazz-inflected head-nodders. It was an unconventional method that turned traditional jazz inside out, and proved to be McCraven’s trademark. His next two records, 2017’s Highly Rare and 2018’s Where We Come From, both build off this live-to-collage approach, but with Universal Beings, his idea becomes a diamond—sharp and perfectly formed.

On Universal Beings, McCraven attempts to argue that there is a higher level of connection between musicians than regionality or place. While he certainly defends this to great success, the record is also a wonderful microcosm of Chicago’s wildly diverse scene. You get the Drag City post-rock experimentation, the straight-ahead jazz pioneered by the AACM in the ‘60s and ‘70s, the free-wheeling genre-bending of the International Anthem label, and the heavy beats of the city’s rap producers. It’s impossible to peg down, with McCraven bringing these various sounds and marrying them through the sheer will of his drum kit.

The album is divided into four sections, each of which was recorded with a different band in a different location. McCraven’s ability to weave these disparate sessions into a cohesive, epic album is a testament to his underlying pocket and ability as a producer on the back-end. Between sessions in London, Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles, McCraven and his various bands establish a thesis for a truly universal music. The album is an insistence on worldliness and a coalescence of various subgenres and the particular musical folklore pertinent to each of these cities. And while McCraven still views Chicago as his home, and one of the chief inspirations for this collage approach to jazz music, the premise for such an ambitious project is broader than the scope of a single scene.

“I thought it’d be cool to do a similar process as those earlier records, but in different places where I could work with people I’ve been talking about working with for a long time,” McCraven says.

As such, the record is a mobile tour for McCraven, dropping in on other scenes and bringing his wide-ranging style to these other communities bubbling with dynamic jazz cultures. The A-side, recorded live in Queens and featuring Brandee Younger on harp, Joel Ross on vibraphone, Tomeka Reid on cello, and Dezron Douglas on double bass is deeply invested in the spiritual jazz tradition. Since it was recorded live, audience interaction plays a critical role as well, with McCraven’s dynamic drumming occasionally accented by claps from the audience.

The B-side was recorded in Chicago with Londoner Shabaka Hutchings, Junius Paul, and Reid, and the eclectic dynamism of this group speaks to the experimental gravitas of the city’s scene. “Atlantic Black” is deeply avant-garde, all percussion and squeaky horn lines. Even though Hutchings occupies a different scene, the way he comes together with Chicago native Paul on the double bass is a masterclass in improvisation.

“When Makaya and I were on tour in Europe, we’d run into either Sons of Kemet or Shabaka and the Ancestors,” Paul says of the collaboration. “It was really a pleasure to be able to play with Shabaka and Makaya at the same time. The energies just matched up really well. We went in a bunch of different directions.”

Sessions in London and Los Angeles round out the LP, with the latter standing out as the most impressive of the four sides. Featuring Josh Johnson on alto saxophone, Miguel Atwood-Ferguson on violin, Parker on guitar, Anna Butterss on double bass, Carlos Niño on percussion, and McCraven on drums, these six tracks recorded at Parker’s studio are esoteric yet approachable, a sort of ambient jazz that features behind-the-scenes looks at the recording process. It also goes a long way in highlighting McCraven’s mastery of the collage process; for these are four different records from four different bands in four different studios. And yet, it still sounds like one record.

While McCraven has spent his career synthesizing the distinctions between live recordings and studio sessions, none of his projects have blended the two warring aesthetics as completely or coherently as he does here. This album exists outside of any traditional setting, it’s innovative in the truest sense of the word. At 22 tracks, the album breezes by in triumphant bursts, catapulted by the album’s four distinct sides. It’s the record collection of a music lover pasted atop a jazz infrastructure, spanning genres and expanding its scope in live-time to create a timestamp for an era across four unique scenes. In short, it’s a triumph.

McCraven views this album as something outside of Chicago, but there’s certainly something to be said for Chicago’s jazz scene leading the way for the rest of the country and overseas scenes as well. “Chicago is a very big, broad, and diverse city. You’re gonna find a wide varieties of things to come across. Part of Universal Beings was to say that about Chicago by saying that about all of the places. All of these arts communities have distinct sounds and distinct things that they bring out of people,” explains McCraven. “My scene is gonna have an influence on others, and our mentors and our elders are gonna have that influence on us. That’s the beauty of the local scene. It’s all about community. The community of Chicago definitely influenced me to follow certain things in improvised music.”

That’s what makes Universal Beings such a special achievement. It’s not only a conversation between different players and different cities, but different generations. The history of the AACM is infused in the playing of Junius Paul, McCraven, and all of the Chicago staples who appear on the LP. Jeff Parker’s work with Tortoise squeaks its way onto the album’s fourth side. There’s a treasure trove of history on this record, but more importantly, there’s a way forward. This is future music where borders don’t exist and the divisions we think come between us actually bring us closer together. Perhaps that’s the Chicago that coalesces through this album. It’s a prideful record, one that celebrates the diversity of its participants. “We have a lot of commonalities to share, we can come together and create something meaningful because we’re part of a thread that’s deeper than locale,” says McCraven. “But we’re still gonna come with all of the history from the places that influence us.”

-Will Schube

Source: https://daily.bandcamp.com/2018/10/22/makaya-mccraven-artist-of-the-week-feature/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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randyk1m-blog · 5 years ago

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The Emerald Coast is one of our family’s favorite places to visit. The beaches with their sugar white sand are fabulous and there are countless things to do in Destin, Florida. We’ve visited four times in 4 years on the road, which says how much we love it!

We stayed in Destin for an entire month and we were lazy for the first 3 weeks. We didn’t do much other than spend time at the beach and the pool. And that was OK by us! Hanging out at the beach or heading out on the town we always have great family fun in Destin, FL.

Things to do on the gulf coast range from hanging at the beach, water sports, eating at yummy restaurants and more! Without further ado here is our list of Things To Do In Destin, FL:

Things to do in Destin Florida

Destin Attractions

If you are a mover and a shaker and you start twitching thinking about doing one of the beach days, do it anyways. It will be good for you and your family 🙂 But do not fear, there are plenty of Destin Florida attractions for families to keep you busy! Here are our recommendations for your Destin Beach Vacation:

Gulfarium Marine Adventure Park

They had dolphins, tortoises, sharks, sting rays, alligators, birds, and more! Plus they have a touch tank where you can pet hermit crabs and hold starfish. And if you want you can pay and sign up to help with the animals or swim with the dolphins and sting rays.

We also enjoyed watching the dolphin show! Since it is a smaller facility you are able to get a close seat for the shows. They offer shows throughout the day so you could spend all day there if you wanted to see all of the shows.

They had an obstacle course area for the kids to play plus a sandbox area. They have a snack stand where you could get popcorn, drinks, and much more. I loved that it was right on the water so as you were walking around you were able to look out over the ocean as well. The Gulfarium is located on Okaloosa Island just outside Destin. It is part of Destin’s Fort Walton Beach area and well worth a visit.

Click here for a great deal on Gulfarium tickets!

Dolphin Sunset Cruise

You see all the advertisements for the Dolphin Cruise and my first thought is always: how are they going to guarantee you see a dolphin? I don’t believe it. I was wrong. We saw so many dolphins! It was crazy!!! Some of them were playing together in the waves while others swam right next to the boat. It was a really cool experience. Again I wasn’t sure about bringing kids on another boat tour, this time it was for 2 hours. We came prepared: lots of snacks, treats, and drinks. You can bring all your own stuff on the boat, including alcohol. Plus they have a snack bar if you want to buy anything.

While on the boat they had food we could feed the seagulls. The seagulls took chips right out of your hand! They also have a glass bottom, but to be honest we never really saw much through it. The highlight for the kids was getting a chance to drive the boat! We saw a ton of dolphins and a beautiful sunset. The kids had a lot of fun and since we had the snacks everyone was great the whole time! Another one to add to the list.

Click here for a great deal on the Destin Dolphin Cruise!

Pontoon Boat Rental with Destin X Watersports

How have we been to Destin so many times and never rented a Pontoon or visited Crab Island?!!! This is now on the top of our must do list when you visit.

When you rent the pontoon at the Destin harbor ask the people getting your boat ready how to find Crab Island. Then take a nice boat trip around the bay for a few minutes before finding a place to put your anchor down at Crab Island.

What is Crab Island?

It is a sandbar out in the middle of the ocean that has floating restaurants or what I like to call Food Boats – like Food Trucks but on water. The water level is about waste high for adults and after putting an anchor down on your pontoon you can hang out in the boat or spend hours jumping off the boat into the beautiful clear water.

Before walking over the Food Boats to get some drinks and food! Be prepared it is usually really busy and I am sure can get wild. But with kids go early in the day and it will be fun for everyone.

Recommended things to bring: Snorkel Gear Paddle Board Floaty Football SunScreen Sunglasses A cooler full of food Water

Click Here For A Great Deal On Pontoon Rentals!

Catamaran Sailing Trip With Sailing Moby

If you being the captain of the pontoon doesn’t sound fun then leave the driving to the Sailing Moby team and bring your family (max of 6 people) onto their sailboat. Then sit back, relax and let them take care of everything!

What I loved about their boat is they have an inside area. So if you have little ones that need to take a nap or get out of the sun there is a perfect place for this.

They will take you to Crab Island to just hang out there if you would like. Or they have some other great recommendations on places to go based on the weather and what your crew would like to do.

For us we opted to sail to a couple islands where the kids got out to snorkel by the beach and then were able to jump off the boat – their favorite part of the trip!

Recommended things to bring: Snorkel Gear (they do provide it – so if you are OK with that you can use theirs) Sand Toys Beach Toys Towels Food – you are welcome to bring a cooler on board Sunscreen Sunglasses Water Bathing Suits – just wear these – it will make it easier

They also have a bathroom on the boat which is super helpful when you travel with kids or plan to have a couple beverages on your trip.

Maximum Magic Show

We were so excited to take the kids to an actual magic show! If your kids are like ours they love seeing magic tricks and being able to go to a live show that was family friendly was a great way for them to see their first magic show.

Click Here For A Great Deal On Magic Show Tickets

Golf Garden 9 Hole Executive Course

Looking to get away for a quick round of golf? This is the perfect place to go. There are a variety of golf courses in the area but this is a nice course that isn’t too big so you can knock a round of 9 out pretty quickly. Then head back to hit the beach!

Wild Willy

Looking to get out of the sun and away from the beach and water then head to Wild Willies where you can play arcade games, see a 4D movie, play laser tag. Then head outside for mini golf and a ropes course.

After days covered in sand this is a nice way to get out and do something different!

Click here for combo deals at Wild Willy’s

Parasailing

If you have never gone parasailing we highly recommend it. All of our kids love it and it is another great way to get a different view on the beach and ocean. With how clear the water is in Destin I bet there is a good chance you could see some bottlenose dolphins or sting rays in the water while you are up there!

Click here for a great deal on Destin Parasailing!

Kayaking

You can rent 1 or 2 seater kayaks to explore the harbor and bay, and even paddle yourself out to Crab Island, if you’re up for it! Other renters have even seen dolphins and other wildlife while kayaking the area. This is a great activity to burn some extra energy while enjoying the great views and wildlife!

Click here to book your Kayak rentals!

Check out our time in Destin:

Indian Mound Museum

Want to learn about the history of the area? Then check out the Indian Mound Museum where you can learn about the Native Americans that lived in the area and see a variety of artifacts found here as well.

Destin History and Fishing Museum

Visit this museum to learn how a small fishing town (termed the “luckiest fishing village”) turned into a huge vacation destination. It really is quite amazing.

Click here for great deals on these Destin attractions!

Uncle Bucks FishBowl and Grill

This is not your typical bowling alley! This is an underwater experience! You can choose to eat your dinner at the restaurant; where you sit at a table with sharks hanging from the ceiling, or you can eat while you bowl. Whatever works for you!

The bowling area gives you the feel of being underwater – from the sights and sounds, it is an underwater experience! We had a lot of fun and it was great with the kids since they had bumpers and also a bowling ball ramp so the kids could roll the ball right down it. We loved the extra touch of the bowling balls being covered in sea creatures too! The food was good, the drinks awesome, and the atmosphere was great! If you are looking to get out of the sun and into the air conditioning or looking for something to do at night when it gets dark out Uncle Bucks is the place for you!

HarborWalk Village

The HarborWalk Village is loaded with restaurants and shops and is the place where a lot of the water activities in Destin (Pirate cruise, Dolphin cruise, pontoon rental) take off from. They also have a variety of different activities available.

Big Kahuna’s Water park

If you are visiting in the heat of summer and looking for a water park to cool off check out Big Kahuna’s waterpark!

Kids Fishing Trip

Destin – known to have the worlds luckiest fishing is a great place to take the kids out fishing! We have not done this with our kids yet (they weren’t interested the last time we were there). But if you and your family are into fishing then be sure to check it out!

I also love how this trip is geared towards kids as anyone with young kids knows spending time on a boat with kids can be a challenge!

If your kids are older you can check out a variety of fishing charter boats here.

Book your Destin Charter Fishing trip here!!

Pirate Cruise

We had a great time on the cruise. I wasn’t sure at first how it was going to go. Four kids on a boat, but from the minute we walked onto the boat they started entertaining the kids and it didn’t stop until we docked about 90 minutes later. We don’t even know where they took the boat since we were so in to what was going on 🙂

They did everything from squirt gun fights and sword fights to having the kids swab the deck (which they loved! I need to buy one of those mops!) to face painting and pulling a real treasure chest out of the ocean, like for real! Plus they “shot” the cannon twice.

It was a great time and I would recommend it for kids ages 3 and up! And if you have any pirate gear make sure to dress up. It makes the experience even better. My Mom has an awesome pirate costume so she wore it on the ship and fit right in! Actually, she almost got a job!

Check out the Pirate Cruise for more information.

Banana Boats

Take a private ride on the banana boats! This is a one hour trip where they take your private group (minimum 4 people, maximum 6 people) out in a boat and pull you behind on the bouncing banana boats! A great opportunity to cool off, have some laughs and excitement, enjoy the water adventure and potentially see some wildlife while you’re out. Riders must know how to swim!

Click here to book your Banana Boat Ride!

Destin Commons

This is an outdoor mall located in Crystal Beach that makes shopping so much more enjoyable than having to be inside walking from store to store. At Christmas they have an awesome tree and holiday display. There is also an outdoor play area for the kids to play. There are a lot of great stores and restaurants so you can eat, shop, play, and/or people watch!

Village of Baytowne Wharf

A great area for dining, shopping and nightlife. Plus there area lot of activities and festivals that go on here. The village is not on the beach so if you are looking to get away from the sand and surf for a while this is a great place to go.

Hiking

Hiking in Florida! Not quite the same as hiking to the top of a mountain in Yellowstone but it was still a fun hike. In the Emerald Coast you can find nature trails and hike at the following parks: Henderson Beach State Park, James Lee County State Park or John Beasley Beach Park. Or you can just go for a nice walk on the beach.

The Sunset

Looking for a FREE Destin Attraction that you can do every night?! We highly recommend making it a nightly ritual to get a glass of wine for the adults and some juice boxes for the kids and heading out to see the sunset out over the water. It was amazing how every night the sunset looked different and amazing. After watching it one night it seemed impossible that it could be any prettier and then it would amaze us again!

When you are staying on the Emerald Coast, make it a priority to see the sunset every night! You won’t be disappointed! Even if there are clouds – the sky still changes to an amazing color.

There’s quite a few other things to do in Destin Florida with kids that we didn’t get to, remember we were lazy and totally beached it for 3 weeks 🙂 Depending on when you are coming make sure to check the schedule. Their prime season is from May to September. So in the off season things may not be open.

The Beach

If you want you can literally do nothing, but beach it. Swim in the ocean, play in the sand, and hit the swimming pool for a few hours every day. To be honest I can’t think of a better family vacation! Plus the white sand beaches on the emerald green waters of the Gulf of Mexico are so beautiful.

A beach vacation can be all about focusing on your family and deepening your family bond since you aren’t running off to a bunch of activities. Instead you are taking life slow and enjoying that non-rushed feeling.

What I love about the Emerald Coast is when you are at a resort, condo or RV park on the beach, you don’t even realize all of the hustle and bustle that is going on out on Hwy 98 and all the attractions Destin has to offer.

Tips for having a great beach vacation:

Buy some breakfast food to have ready so you don’t have to rush out in the morning and so you don’t have hungry kids.

Sit out on your balcony or head out to the beach to sit and enjoy your coffee while the kids either play, eat breakfast, watch TV. No seriously, let them watch TV or do their own thing while you take in the views and enjoy your morning coffee!

After everyone has eaten breakfast head down to the sugar white beaches and build sand castles. They have the perfect sand for it! You may have to mix in a little water if it has been dry, but once you get the right consistency you are good to go! Swim in the water, play frisbee, just hang out.

Head back for a nice slow relaxing lunch. If it was hot out, take some time to relax in your room or RV. Play a card game, watch a movie, read a book as a family and enjoy the fact you have no where to be!

Head out to the pool (if where you are staying has one) or else head back down to the beach!

As a family, cook and prepare dinner and then eat it outside.

Finish the night up by watching the sunset and going for a walk on the beach.

Go to bed and wake up the next day and repeat steps 1 – 8 again!

For a great place to stay and enjoy your Destin vacation, check out the Sandestin Golf and Beach Resort. This resort is beautiful and right on the white sand. Enjoy the pool and beach while soaking up the sun on your ultimate beach vacation!

Click here for great deals on Sandestin Golf and Beach Resort rooms from TripAdvisor!

BONUS Activity!

If you happen to be in Destin in the month of October and you love salt water fishing you may really enjoy the Destin Fishing Rodeo! There are all kinds of prizes daily, weekly and monthly during October and any child who brings in a fish over 1lb gets a free rod and reel! Fishing may even be free if you hop on one of the boats on the chartered fishing fleet for the event. Check out the rules and info here.

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Where To Eat

LuLu’s Destin

It’s hard to categorize a restaurant as a thing to do in Destin with kids, but we absolutely loved LuLu’s! Any time the kids have somewhere to play while we wait for our food is a great restaurant and LuLu’s has that and more!

There is a nice sand/beach area that has 2 containers filled with kids sands toys. Plus a palm tree for them to climb on, cornhole, and hula hoops! While the kids played we were able to sit at our table and listen to the live music. Their food selection is awesome with a focus on food allergies. With a town filled with seafood it is nice to have an option where they are on top of food allergies and give you lots of options.

When you are done eating they have some great desserts including a Krispie Kreme bread pudding or natural homemade popsicles! The kids loved the root beer and sea salted caramel flavor. And so did we!

Small Cakes of Destin

You know we love our sweets and when we couldn’t find a local donut place we headed out for Cupcakes! As you can see they were super yummy and the kids loved them. I did too! They had lots of great flavors and I had to stop myself from coming here every day to try a different flavor.

Beach Restaurant – Surf Hut

There are a variety of restaurants on the beach so depending on where you are staying you can look into what is in your area. We loved walking down the beach to a restaurant for happy hour and appetizers or dinner or lunch.

We really enjoyed The Surf Hut. We were also told that the The Back Porch was a great spot! We will have to save that one for the next time we are there.

Dewey Destin’s Seafood & Restaurant

Dewey Destin currently owns two restaurant locations with family friendly atmosphere serving fresh-as-can-be fish daily! There is also a snowball location that serves New Orleans style snowballs to help you beat the heat and a third restaurant location coming soon!

Fun Fact: Dewey Destin’s Seafood & Restaurant is owned by the great, great grandson of the founder of Destin, Leonard Destin!

When To Visit

The Emerald Coast is an amazing vacation destination. We have never visited during prime time (May to September). So we can’t speak for what it is like during that time. But I have heard it gets busy but the weather is beautiful.

We have always visited in the off season and we do we miss out on some activities (that aren’t open) but we love that it is less busy and that the weather isn’t super hot. We have been there in November and December and normally had weather in the 60’s with sunshine making it feel much warmer.

Where to Stay

Airbnb

Zula Life Vacation Homes

We stayed at this amazing vacation home that was a short walk to the beach (it saves you a lot of money if you aren’t right on the beach!). The house had plenty of room for multiple families to stay along with a long Kitchen table, big couch and plenty of outside sitting. Plus our favorite part was the hot tub and pool. We spent a lot of time just hanging out back there.

The house is located just a couple minutes from Hwy 98 where you have all the stores that you would need. Yet is in a quiet neighborhood without a lot of traffic. The driveway was also large enough that we could park our 21 foot travel trailer there when we stayed – it was so nice not to have to leave the rig somewhere plus we didn’t have to pack since everything was right there in the driveway!

Honestly it was hard to leave the house to go do anything! If you are coming with your family (and dog – yes they allow pets!) or planning a multi family trip be sure to check out Zula Life or any of their other properties: Zula Dreams and Zula Beach.

Click HERE to book now!

Hotels

Hilton Sandestin Beach, Golf Resort & Spa

If you’re looking for luxury at it’s finest, check out the Hilton Sandestin Beach, Golf Resort & Spa. The resort is located right on the white sand and emerald water. You will be in paradise with a fantastic pool and a great beach bar overlooking the ocean.

Click here for great Sandestin deals on TripAdvisor!

Holiday Inn Fort Walton Beach

If you aren’t going to be traveling in an RV we recommend the Holiday Inn Fort Walton Beach. We were able to tour the hotel and spend a day swimming in the pool. The facility is amazing! It is very new, clean, and comfortable.

They offer a kids room that has bunk beds and an Xbox in the room! Plus the rooms have an amazing balcony that looks out over the pool and the ocean. Here is the view:

The kids LOVED swimming in the pool. It has a zero entry end, which was great for our little ones and also has a lazy river! Plus there is a hot tub and an indoor pool if the weather is cooler when you are there. We loved that you could walk right out to a beautiful beach too. So you could spend your morning at the beach, head in to eat lunch at their restaurant and then head out to the pool in the afternoon.

This hotel is perfect for families but would be great for couples as well! Click here to check out the Holiday Inn Resort Fort Walton Beach!

For other amazing hotels in the Destin area, click here!

RV Parks

Rent an RV

Have you ever considered renting an RV?! It would be an awesome way to stay in Destin and you can get a spot right on the beach or stay a quieter State Park like Grayton Beach or Henderson Beach State Park.

Click here for great RV Rentals in the Destin area.

Camp Gulf RV Park

This is one of our favorite campgrounds in all of North America. Seriously, it is so cool to be so close to the beach! Our RV spot was literally 20 yards from the beach. Yes, there was a row of RV’s in front of us for most of the time, but it didn’t matter. (We couldn’t stay in those spots because pets aren’t allowed in those sites).

There is a couple rows of RV spots that are right by the beach. If you are someone who prefers not to have sand in your RV everyday. There are also spots that are farther back and away from the beach. Some of these spots are closer to the pools at the campground.

There are 2 pools and if you go in November they put a big tent over the back pool so that you can still swim even if it is colder outside. Being in North Florida it does get colder in the winter months.

Every day we opened our door to the smell of the surf, the feel of the ocean breeze, and stepped out into beautiful white sand. Yes, we slept with sand in our bed and I don’t think we will ever get all of the sand out of our car. But we don’t care. It was worth it!

If you don’t have an RV you can rent one! This campground is worth it!

We stayed at Camp Gulf, which is in Miramar Beach. We love this campground because of how close the sites are to the beach. We definitely recommend checking this campground out! We’re total beach fans!

Grayton Beach State Park

This is probably our all time favorite state park. It’s in Grayton Beach, which is east of Destin, away from all the craziness, and tucked back in a private little spot perfect for quiet camping. While you’re not right on the beach like at CampGulf, you are just a short walk, bike ride or drive away from it. This is the kind of place where you don’t really do anything but beach bum it!

Want more ideas on things to do in Destin, Florida?! Check out this great post from 365AtlantaFamily: https://365atlantafamily.com/things-to-do-in-destin-fl/

If you are looking to fly in there are some regional airports in the area or else you will have a drive from some of the larger surrounding cities/airports.

Also, be sure to check out our Florida Road Trip as this Northwest Florida location is a stop on the route!

Looking for more adventures in Florida? Check out our following posts:

4 Favorite Florida Beaches – From a near native Floridian

The Best Place to See Turtles in the Florida Keys

Top 10 Florida Keys Beaches

Hawks Cay: The Best Resort In The Florida Keys

16 Reasons to stay overnight at Legoland Florida

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Disclosure: A big Thank You to TripShock and the Emerald Coast Convention & Visitors Bureau, area attractions, and restaurants for hosting us. All opinions expressed are our own. Truth.

The post 25 Epic Things To Do In Destin, Florida [Including Where To Stay] appeared first on Crazy Family Adventure.

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whittlebaggett8 · 6 years ago

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11 of the oldest animals ever, ranked by age, Defence Online

caption

One species of jellyfish is technically immortal.

source

Henry Kaiser, National Science Foundation/Wikimedia Commons

Many animals can live much longer than their average life expectancies.

Cockatoos and tortoises have been known to live for 100 years or more, while Greenland sharks can live upwards of 400 years.

There’s even an “immortal” species of jellyfish.

We’ve rounded up some of the world’s oldest animals.

While humans outlive many other animals, some species put the average human lifespan (about 72 years, according to the World Health Organization) to shame. Giant tortoises, for example, can live more than 100 years, while bowhead whales can reach 200 years of age.

Plus, certain individual animals have blown past the life expectancy of their species, gaining notoriety for the feat.

Here are 12 of the world’s oldest animals, ranked by age.

The oldest female gorilla living today is thought to be 61.

Western lowland gorillas are a subspecies native to the Congo Basin, and they are the most widespread of all the subspecies of gorilla. Their lifespan in the wild ranges from 30 to 40 years. In captivity, they can live into their 50s and beyond.

Until her death at age 60 in 2017, Colo, a western lowland gorilla at the Columbus Zoo, was the world’s oldest zoo-born gorilla. Colo’s name, an abbreviation of Columbus, Ohio, was chosen in a contest.

Today, two female gorillas are thought to share the title: Fatou at the Berlin Zoo in Germany and Trudy at the Little Rock, Arkansas Zoo are both estimated to be 61. Ozzy, a male gorilla at the Atlanta, Georgia Zoo is thought to be the oldest male at about 58.

The longest-living albatross is at least 68 years old.

Albatrosses, whose wings can stretch 11 feet, are able to live 50 years or more. The longest-living albatross in the US – and one of the world’s oldest known wild birds overall – is a Laysan albatross named Wisdom.

Believed to be at least 68 years old, Wisdom has far surpassed her species’ typical lifespan of 12-40 years. She has made the news several times for continuing to lay eggs well into her old age. Wisdom returns annually to a nest site at Midway Atoll in the North Pacific Ocean.

Ambika at the National Zoo in Washington, DC is thoght to be 71 years old, likely making her the oldest living elephant.

Asian elephants can typically live into their mid-50s. However, a few have made it into their 80s. Lin Wang, an Asian elephant at Taipei Zoo in Taiwan, lived to be 86. At the time of his death in 2003, he held the Guinness World Record for being the oldest elephant in captivity.

Dakshayani, an elephant at the Chengalloor Mahadeva Temple in Kerala, India also had a long life. Given the nickname “Gaja Muthassi” (meaning “elephant granny”), she died in February at 88 years of age.

In the US, there are several Asian elephants in their 70s: Shirley, who lives at Tennessee’s Elephant Sanctuary, is 70 years old, while Ambika at the National Zoo in Washington, DC is 71. It’s worth noting, though, that these ages are often estimated.

Fred, the world’s oldest cockatoo, is over 100 years old.

Cockatoos are any of 20 bird species that belong to the parrot subfamily Cacatuinae. They generally have a lifespan of 60 years, but some have lived for over a century in captivity.

For instance, Fred, a sulfur-crested cockatoo at Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary in Tasmania, Australia, is now 104.

Another Australian sulfur-crested cockatoo known as “Cocky Bennett” reportedly lived until the age of 120 before he died in 1916. Bennett resided at a hotel.

Cookie, a Major’s Mitchell cockatoo, is also famous for his longevity. He lived to be 83 at Brookfield Zoo outside Chicago, Illinois and died in 2016.

Jonathan, a giant tortoise born in the Seychelles islands, is 187 years old.

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Giant tortoises in Seychelles.

source

Charles Luk/Flickr

Giant tortoises are known for their longevity. One of the best-known examples is Lonesome George, who was the last surviving member of the Pinta Island species. He was believed to be more than 100 years old when he died in 2012.

Jonathan, a giant tortoise born in the Seychelles islands, is still going strong. At 187 years old, he’s been designated the world’s oldest living land animal by Guinness World Records. Since 1882 (50 years after his birth), Jonathan has lived on St. Helena, an island in the South Atlantic Ocean.

Jonathan is just one year shy of claiming the title of oldest chelonian ever. (Chelonia is the scientific order that contains turtles, tortoises, and terrapins.) That’s an honor held by Tu’i Malila, a Madagascar radiated tortoise gifted to the royal family of Tonga by Captain Cook. She died when she was at least 188 years old in 1965.

The tuatara, sometimes referred to as a “living fossil,” lives for upwards of 100 years. One of the oldest members of the species, called Henry, is over 120.

Tuatara are descended from an extinct group of reptiles that roamed the Earth alongside the dinosaurs. These scaled creatures are endemic to New Zealand, where they inhabit 32 islands. The creatures can live up to or past 100 years of age.

One of the oldest living tuatara, Henry, is at least 120. He lives at the Southland Museum and Art Gallery, where there’s a “Tuatarium” habitat.

Henry his mate Mildred were still laying eggs together as of 2009, when he was already 111 (though Mildred was thought to be in her 70s).

Bowhead whales can live for over 200 years. One particular bowhead was estimated to be 211.

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A bowhead whale.

source

Bering Land Bridge National Preserve/Flickr

With a lifespan that can exceed 200 years, the bowhead whale is the longest-living marine mammal. In addition to its longevity, the species is known for its namesake noggin, which contains the largest mouth of any creature in the animal kingdom.

According to Medical Daily, a group of Eskimos in Alaska caught a bowhead whale in 2007 that had six ancient harpoons in its flesh. The harpoons dated back to the late 1800s, suggesting the whale was about 211 years old at the time it died.

According to a 2016 study, one female Greenland shark was estimated to be 400 years old.

caption

A drawing of a Greenland shark from the book “History of the Fishes of the British Islands” published by Jonathan Couch in 1877.

source

Wikimedia Commons

In the 2016 study, researchers found that, on average, Greenland sharks have a lifespan of about 272 years. Yet the sharks, which are native to the North Atlantic, can live upwards of 400 years, as evidenced by one very old unnamed Greenland shark thought to be 400.

The largest sharks noted in the study measured 493 centimeters (16 feet) and 502 centimeters (16.5 feet) long, and had lifespans of 335 and 392 years, respectively.

A potential secret to the species’ longevity might be its slow growth rate of one centimeter (0.39 inches) per year.

An ocean quahog clam named Ming lived to be over 500 years old.

caption

An ocean quahog clam. (Ming is not pictured.)

source

Wikimedia Commons/S. Rae

Ocean quahogs, a type of clam, typically live 100 to 200 years. One of these clams, nicknamed Ming, was 507 years old when it was found in 2006 off the coast of Iceland. To calculate Ming’s age, researchers counted the bands in its shell.

Ming happened to be part of a group of 200 clams that were dredged from the ocean and frozen as part of a research project about climate change.

There’s an “immortal” species of jellyfish that is said to age backward.

caption

A jellyfish (not Turritopsis dohrnii) in Antarctica, photographed by Henry Kaiser of the National Science Foundation.

source

Henry Kaiser, National Science Foundation/Wikimedia Commons

The only thing better than living a long time is finding a way to outwit death. One jellyfish species, Turritopsis dohrnii, is virtually immortal. As the jelly ages, it eventually settles onto the sea floor and becomes a colony of polyps (individual organisms). The polyps then spawn new, genetically identical jellyfish.

If a Turritopsis dohrnii gets physically harmed or starts to starve, it can transform back into a polyp at will – then in turn produce new, genetically identical jellyfish.

Some elkhorn coral in Florida and the Caribbean are more than 5,000 years old.

Many of the oldest creatures on the planet live underwater, corals included. A study by researchers at Penn State University in 2016 found that some genotypes of Acropora palmata (elkhorn coral) in Florida and the Caribbean are more than 5,000 years old.

The post 11 of the oldest animals ever, ranked by age, Defence Online appeared first on Defence Online.

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arcadiatale-blog · 8 years ago

Photo

Sans

Sans is the short-height skeleton. He likes to put on eye makeup at the end of his eyes in blue. He always wears in a blue coarse cloth jacket and a black middle pants. With stepping a pair of clogs, he is just taller than frisk a little. His left side of the sleeves is bound by specially cut sleeves of an archer's dress which is tied by a jade ring. Sans likes to bring jade ring, except his left sleeve, he also uses jade ring to tie his belt. He also wears black half finger gloves so much. When you meet Sans for the first time, you would be impressed by his bamboo hat and Copper Coins’ pendant. In the room, he will take off his bamboo hat and hang on his back.

In the Genocide Ending, he will wear Papyrus’s red headband. This headband may be forgotten by you after you killed Papyrus; you are such a dirty brother killer.

The eye colour of Sans is in white. If he is serious enough, you will see nothing underneath his eye sockets. When he uses magic, there will be a circle of blue light around his pupils. At the time he using “Rounding Reincarnations” (回合轮回), more blue light will increase their quantities around the original blue light circles in his eyes.

Individual Status

Sans is the brother of Papyrus in blood. He is an ordinary fisherman in the Peach Blossom Village. He has many part-time jobs from his Monday to Sunday. For example, he is a sentry in every stronghold in the village, and he does sell blessing rope under Red String Wishing Trees and roast fishes on the ait.

He also works as a judge to your behaviors in the darkness. This duty was from Gaster, when Gaster died before. If your behavior is at the requirement in 0 EXP in the Pacifist Ending, he will tell you he is the last monster in building “the Barrier” and help you to remove “the Barrier”.

Personality

You may feel gentle from Sans as his first impression of you. He always smiles with showing his teeth and squinting. He looks like the guy who amuse himself in any situation, however, in dealing everything with the attitude of moderate ways. He uses the half of the time to sleep in his fishing time. He often drinks on the branches, and afterwards, he will sleep. He likes to recite poetry so much, and these poems are left by humans who once has been in Arcadia. If you talk about the poems to Sans, He will be very happy at all. If you can recite some paragraph of well-done poems to him, he will be satisfied:” A poetry lover has the lowest possibility to be a bastard at all”

When you get off the Ruins, he began to observe every detail of you. Sans interacts with you at every time, but he will disappear after you choose to go through Genocide Ending.

He is really sensitive. He will judge and make different reactions by the quantity of blood that sticking with you. On the other hand, he always emphasized himself as a Humanitarian。

The level of Magician

Sans didn’t make any progress when he started to study magician. The reason is not only because he is a lazy bone, but also he is clumsy in studying how to use magic.

The most abilities of Sans are from Gaster after Gaster possessed for him. Gaster let him has a “Bone Flute”, and let Sans use his own “Magic from Eyes”. In this way, Sans can find the LEVEL of you as well as Gaster.

(Now, I will introduce some magic of Sans)

1. He knows about “Space Transportation”; the magic which is originally from Gaster. The Caster can use the black curtain, is made in Ink, above/under them to transfer the other place. Sans always use this magic for him to take a shortcut. In the battle, he will this magic to avoid others in killing him.

2. He knows about “the Blue Magic”; this is the magic which is originally from Skeleton Brothers. This can make the soul enemy turn in Blue and control their gravity to the place that the Skeleton Brother’s want.

3. He has a “Bond Flute” which is made by the coccyx of Xuanwu. This Bond Flute has been melted inside of Sans’ skeleton, and it can be separated to use. If you want to use Bond Flute, you need to inject a large quantity of Magician Power (MP). The more power has been injected in, the more cracks will be appeared on Bond Flute. When the Bond Flute is smashed, the power of Sans is drained.

4. He knows how to control Gaster Blaster. Gaster Blaster is originally from Xuanwu. When Xuanwu had become the God of North, it’s body has been left in under the ait of Arcadia. Because Xuanwu is looked a monster that a snake is coiled on a huge tortoise, the Gaster Blaster that Sans can control is the head bone of the Tortoise part and the entire body of the snake. It can blast in white ray. The Bone Flute can awake the bone of Xuanwu underground, but it only can use on the ait.

5. The last magic or called special attack of Sans is “Rounding Reincarnations”, and this is also the magic from Gaster. The Inner Eye of Gaster can open “the Door of Reincarnations” which contains with the round of Death and the round of Reincarnation. Simply, Sans can use this magic to return back the previous round to prevent the smashing of Bone Flute, which is just like “UNDO” in the chess game.

At the time when Bone Flute is smashed, Sans will use his special attack. In fact, he has no power to deal with this situation at this time, and his magic is not strong enough for him to return back to the round and stick you in the round that you cannot make a choice.

Using Inner eyes will cost a huge quantity of power. After Sans used this “special attack”, he will be too tired to hold on you.

Miscellaneous Setting

He likes to drink Peach Blossom Wine, and he loves reciting poems.

He likes to drink wine on a peach tree in the ruins.

It is possible for him to put 29 roasted fish on your head.

You may find Sans is sitting and fishing on the Waterfall.

He will be slightly interested in some new things.

He hates promise, but he is not willing to refuse others.

He once promised to Toriel that he will not kill a single human, and he did. However, in the genocide ending, he felt sorry that he needs to break the law with Toriel.

He cares Papyrus so much, but doesn’t show that from face. If you once killed Papyrus, it will stimulate him to be a revenger.

He is the last soulmate to Toriel. He always sings antiphonal poems with Toriel.

Except the “Bond Flute”, he also has a bone flute for himself. When papyrus found his bond was eaten by a dog, he must play the flute to laugh at his brother.

When you wave to him, he will put Siberian cocklebur on his hand.

Outside the Peach Blossom Village, he will ask to sell peach with you. He will keep increasing the price until you cannot pay, and says: “That’s fine, it is not the time for Trees getting their fruits.”

In the Grilby’s boite, Sans will ask you to choose noodles or rice. He will also buy a drink for you. Whatever you choose “YES” or “NO”, he will say that it is not good for a child to drink and drink the wine by one breath.

His room is stuck by enchantment. Only papyrus and himself can get inside.

If you return back to the time point before the judgement after you finished the judgment in the pacifist ending, he will recognize that you have the power of “Timeline Reset”. In this way, he will pick up a copper coin from his pendant, and said:” This is the coin from the Blessing Fiestas, unlike the coins in the ordinary ways. If you can truly return back, I must recognise it.” After you successfully LOAD to the point before Sans judge you, he will give you a piece of yellow charm so that you can enter into his room.

You only chance to kill him is in the Genocide Ending.

His Judgement to you on Genocide Ending:

So many days later and goes for Peach Blossom,

Fragrant waves to the kid that shows in random;

Petals wither, the island can be call as Arcadia,

The wind cut years in piece and leave Dystopia;

No heretics burned, but winches’ suitors,

No kid born as killer, but cut ants in scissors;

Here comes the time, who lives to see that day,

The leaf turns lime, freak and pass to thy way!

----

（One of the sentence in the poem is what II salute the monologue of a fool in “the King Lear” of Shakespeare, because I think it is very suitable for this.）

#Sans #undertale sans #undertale #undertale au #taoyuan-tale

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