#harps across america

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter two

summary: you decided to meet luca, taking him up on his offer to return the favor, and it gives the both of you the opportunity to get to know each other better.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2777

a/n: for an america's indepedence day, have a hot brit and a love story that takes place in denmark lmao. okay so now we're all caught up with what i wrote for the headcanon and boy do i have some surprises in store for you next. thank you so much for all of the reactions to chapter one and the headcanon. this story has weaseled its way into my heart and has taken over my brain. i'm writing it for me but it's nice to hear others are enjoying it too. anyways, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

chapter one | masterlist | chapter three

“You have to go!” Jesper insists with the kind of conviction of a damn good lawyer. 

“I don’t have to anything,” you reply, making sure to emphasize the word ‘have.’

“No, you have to go,” Mathilde chimes in, a little softer, a little kinder than her brother’s earlier encouragement. 

After your post-shift meeting, everyone had gone home, save for the three of you – the Mikkelson twins cornering you about Luca’s thank-you-card proposition.

“Well, since you both keep harping on it, why don’t you come with me?” you suggest, in an attempt to shift the focus off of you. 

Your eyes scan their faces, trying to get a read on the both of them as Jesper and Mathilde exchange a pointed look, having the kind of non-verbal exchange that only comes from having shared every moment of their lives together.

“What?” you ask, looking back and forth from Mathilde to Jesper again.

“It wasn’t addressed to us,” Mathilde points out with a shrug, a sly look on her face. “It was only addressed to you.”

“Looks like someone has a crush,” Jesper adds with a smirk. 

“He doesn’t have a crush!” you protest without hesitation, your heart seizing for a moment. 

“A talent crush,” Mathilde reasons, knowing that anything more than a talent-crush would talk you out of going entirely. 

“Would it be the worst thing in the world if he did?” Jesper continues, much to both you and Mathilde’s chagrin. “I mean, when was the last time you got-, ow!”

Sharply cut off by an elbow to the rib, Jesper glares at his sister before returning his attention to you. 

“I’m just saying! He’s sexy. He’s a chef at one of the best restaurants in the world. You could do worse for yourself,” Jesper clarifies, earning another glare from his sister. 

He has a point, but you ignore it, because you’re not really sure if you’re ready to go there just yet. You think it over, and after giving it another moment, you open your mouth to speak again. 

“Alright, I’ll go,” you sigh in resignation, earning a few celebratory comments and gasps from the twins. “Are you both happy now?”

And that’s how – after at least an hour of stressing out about what to wear to a place like this – you find yourself standing in front of a closed restaurant on a day where almost everything is closed in Denmark. You’d settled on a pair of wide leg denim pants, a square toed boot appropriate for navigating the Copenhagen cobblestone, and a white and black striped sweater, slightly tucked into the front of your jeans that hangs loosely from your frame. 

Classic. Put-together enough for a two-starred Michelin restaurant on closed day. Certainly not a date kind of outfit.

Luca proves once again to be punctual as ever as he greets you at the front door, right on time. He wears a blue t-shirt that seems to emphasize his already intense blue eyes with a navy-colored apron layered over top of it. 

“You came,” are the first words he says to you, a wide smile spreading across his lips as soon as he sees you.

“Yeah I uh-, thank you. For inviting me,” you stammer, nervously searching for the right words. 

“Thank you for coming. Well, c’mon then!” he encourages, nodding towards the inside as he holds the door open for you. 

“Did you find the place alright?” Luca asks you, as you follow him. 

He leads you into the vaulted basement – the space that makes up the Danish-style, fine dining restaurant that’s been a leader in innovation. You follow Luca through the closed dining room, back into the kitchen, and then into the pastry room as you answer his question, mentioning that it wasn’t too long of a walk and that you found the place just fine.

As soon as you see what he’s been working on, it renders you near-speechless. You can see that he’s been hard at work – on his day off, no less – almost as if he knew you would come. 

“Would you like to have a seat?” he offers, gesturing towards the pastry bench. 

“Uh.. yeah. That’d be great. I-, um… thank you… again, for inviting me,” you answer, watching as he brings a stool over to it, setting up a little space for you. 

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. It’s really the least I can do. Think after this we’re uh… what 5 to 1?” he replies casually, in reference to the fact that he’ll only have fed you once in comparison to the amount of times he’s come to the restaurant. 

You chuckle, returning with a playful, “Well, I don’t think anyone’s keeping score.”

He sends a crooked smile your way, one that you know you’ll be thinking about for the rest of the week, before exchanging a laugh with you. 

“Just think of it as a thank you. For the great meals. For the hospitality,” he continues, as you watch him plate his gelee-focused dish. First the chocolate, then yellow, white, and green. A carefully tweezed wafer on top. 

“This is a shiso gelee with a chocolate mint ganache, finished with a thin slice of marzipan, and a caramel cracker. It’s from our current menu,” Luca introduces, walking you through the dish like you walked him through your crispy rice and trumpet mushroom dish. 

He pushes the plate-that-looks-more-like-a-pedestal towards you for you to try, his eyes meeting yours. Luca studies you carefully as you pick up the fork he’s set out for you, cutting through the gelee for your first bite. He watches as you scoop up a little of the ganache, making sure to get a bit of the cracker as well. 

You’re creating a perfect bite – one with a little bit of everything – just like he’d done with the first dish of yours he had a month or so ago. 

As you raise the fork to your lips, taking your first bite, the vibrant flavors hit your tongue with surprise and brilliance that you weren’t expecting. It’s somehow new, innovative, yet nostalgic all at once. 

“Oh my god,” you say with a sigh of pure bliss. You savor each and every flavor, taking your time with your first bite before continuing with: “It’s almost like-.”

“A minty snickers bar?” he offers up with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

“That’s exactly it!” you cry out with joy. 

He smiles proudly, “Yeah, it’s a nice dish.”

“So how long have you been doing this? Cooking…? Or have you done Pastry the whole time?” you ask, digging into the rest of the gelee. 

“About fourteen years… give or take. Started when I was a kid… just washing dishes… was a bit of a rebel…. The kitchen gave me a place to land,” he shares with an ease and charm that makes you feel like you could tell him all of your secrets. 

“Yeah, no I-, I get that,” you agree, enjoying your second bite of Luca’s shiso dish. 

“Gave my mum a little peace of mind. That’s for sure. Don’t think I was an easy kid to raise,” he continues as you listen. 

“Didn’t start pastry till about three years ago or so. Went mostly the fine dining route… worked my way up to sous position at a really great place, but wasn’t interested in moving up the ranks in that regard. Decided it was time to try something different.”

You nod with respect for his decision for change. 

“Where’d you grow up?” you ask curiously, watching him wipe down the pastry bench with a clean towel as he begins to prepare for a second dish.

“London,” he answers. 

“Oh! I uh, lived there for a few years, actually,” you say, sharing a familiar smile with him. 

“What about you? Where’d you grow up? And how long have you been cooking for?” he asks, shifting the focus of the conversation to you. 

“Boston,” you reply. 

He hums in response, “I’ve never been. What was that like?”

“Boston is great. Good weather, great food, interesting people. ‘S actually where I learned how to cook. My mom’s a single parent so… I spent a lot of time at our neighbor’s house… and their restaurant. They still own this Italian restaurant that’s like… been in the family for a hundred or so years and I practically grew up there,” you explain, sharing parts of yourself – of your story – in return. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, an amused look on his face. 

“Yeah, we hung out there a lot when we were kids – me and my best friend. Then when I was old enough to work, I marched in one day after school and pitched myself for a job, demanding that I cook and that I’d accept nothing less” you reminisce trying your best to recreate the bold confidence of your fifteen year old self.

Luca chuckles in response, “That’s incredible,”

“I was a rather precocious child,” you add, laughing with a fondness for that previous version of you.

He smiles, “Yeah, I know the feeling well.”

Luca clears his throat, pulling out a clean bowl and beginning to plate something new. He explains that this one is a savory dish, starting with a fermented sourdough cracker as he walks you through the flavor profiles of each component, mentioning that it’s got to be one of his favorites on the menu so far. 

“I’m up for sharing if you are,” you suggest, in response to his last comment. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

You watch as Luca picks up another fork, digging into the dish with you. There’s an intimacy that comes from sharing a meal with someone – eating off the same plate, enjoying the same sensory experience, quite literally breaking bread – that makes Luca feel less and less like a stranger to you with each bite. You still can’t believe that he’s done this for you – that you’re here – and while you’re not sure why, you lean into a softness, allowing yourself to enjoy it while it’s happening. 

“Did you go to culinary school?” you ask him, over your last few shared bites.

“No, what about you?” he replies quickly. 

“No, I actually majored in business,” you answer, earning a hum from him. 

“Huh…” he sounds, with a raise of both eyebrows in surprise. 

“I know…” you groan, with a playful eye roll more so directed at yourself. “My first career was in finance… account management. Then I did the whole investment thing for a while… it was uh… really sexy stuff, I know.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who would’ve been happy doing something like that,” Luca observes, only surprising you a little that he’d be able to pick up on something like that so quickly. 

“Oh no. I wasn’t. I was miserable,” you echo in agreement. You take a breath, and a beat, before explaining. “It was more of… a wish fulfillment thing, I think. For my mom. I mean, it wasn’t my dream, by any means. But having stability was important to me, to my mom…. To my partner at the time.”

“And now?”

You wait a beat before answering. 

“And now… I’m just… figuring it out as I go.”

Your eyes flicker over the ‘every second counts’ sign that hangs on the wall while Luca busses the table once again, sharing that he’s got one more dish he’d like for you to try. You settle into a quiet rhythm as you sit back and allow him to provide an experience unlike any other you’ve had. You watch him carefully as he moves around the kitchen prepping for his last dish, taking in each and every tattoo visible on his arms. 

“Every second counts,” you speak out loud, returning your attention to the sign. 

“Yeah,” he nods, turning his attention to where you’re looking. “It’s uh-, something an old head chef of mine used to say. Really stuck with me.”

You nod in agreement as he pulls out a final dessert plate. 

“‘S actually what brought me to you,” he continues, in reference to the sign. “An old friend of mine called me for a favor. He’s opening a new restaurant and wanted their patissier to come stage here for a bit.” 

Luca begins plating his final dish using a few pastry rings, a clean pair of tweezers, and berries left macerating in a deli container with a laser focus that you’d expect from a pastry chef at a two-starred Michelin restaurant.

“We got into… this whole conversation about inspiration. How to find it. Where to find it. I told him he’s gotta be open… to everything. To things out there. That that’s how you succeed in this industry – how you set yourself apart,” Luca adds, impressing you with his precision of plating while sharing something so personal. 

“It reminded me that… it’s been a while since I’ve opened myself up to… well… anything outside of this place.”

“No, yeah, I totally get it. It’s easy to get lost in it – it being the four walls of your restaurant. Running a restaurant is relentless. One minute you put your head down and the next…” you empathize with him. 

“It’s three weeks later.”

“Yeah.”

“Which leads me to why I asked you here,” Luca segways, as he finishes his final dish. “I ran into a little bit of writers’ block – or rather, chef’s block, if you will – working on our Summer menu.” 

He presents the dish towards you, earning a gasp from you as you take in the stunning creation.

“Knew I needed to get out of here for a beat. Get out of my head. Get some new perspectives.”

“Is this for your new menu?” you ask, your eyes devouring the cake-based dish first. 

“Maybe… just something I’ve been working on – something that’s been floating around in my head a while,” he shrugs, watching you carefully as he tries to search your face for any kind of reaction. 

You dig your fork into the spongey, tea-soaked, circular layered cake, raising it to your lips and immediately finding pure joy as you taste it. 

Yuzu. Earl Grey. The cake is almost like a lady finger – tiramisu-like in the way that it eats – filled with a yuzu curd in between each layer of cake, then finished with what you can only assume is a sort of black sesame dust that he’s sifted over top of the dish. 

“Woah,” is all that comes out of your mouth.

“Yeah?” Luca questions, unable to hide the smile that spreads across his lips. 

“Yeah uh… Why does this feel so familiar? It’s like… you’re reading my mind with this one,” you ask, your eyes wide savor each note. 

“Well, it should. Feel familiar, that is. It’s inspired by you,” Luca explains, treading carefully around the last few words. 

“What do you-?” you begin to ask, before the words leave you. 

You half expect him to tell you he’s joking, and you can’t tell whether or not it’s a blush running across his high cheekbones that you spot, as he turns his attention elsewhere. He begins moving around the kitchen, eager to begin cleaning up after himself to recover from the sheer vulnerability he feels from sharing this with you. 

Was this why he’d invited you here? 

“Luca,” you say, your words stopping him as he turns back to you. 

“What’s up?” he asks, so casually, as if he hadn’t just called you his muse. 

"All of this... you did all of this for me…. Why?" you muster up the courage to ask, the words falling out of your mouth with a weight you don’t expect. 

He takes a beat, afraid of coming on too strong, considering you’ve only just met, yet wanting nothing more than to tell you the truth.

Luca sighs, choosing the latter, before laying it all out on the table.

 "Your food is inspired and I don’t think I’ve had something this inspired in a long time,” he explains before pausing. “Your passion for Italian cuisine… weaving in the bits and pieces of yourself and approaching it from different culinary perspectives? You inspired me.” 

He takes another beat. 

“And as chefs, this is what we do. We feed each other." 

You’re speechless, but you can feel yourself nodding in agreement as you mumble out the most reverent ‘thank you’ that you can muster. You can feel it – that this is the beginning of, well, you're not quite sure what – but whatever it is, you're glad he walked into your restaurant however many weeks ago.

“Luca?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smile. 

“Cheers.”

[astroboots]

Every You Every Me #8

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You embark upon 'a Cosmic Masterplan to survive' - Phase one

Word count: 6,600

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

Ten days have passed since your home was blown to a million pieces. 

Ten days since you found out that there are multiple universes. 

Ten days since you learned that your universe—the world as you know it—has less than three months left before it implodes unless you can somehow find a way to save it… and yourself.

Despite the fantastical nature of those events, you find yourself returning back to your everyday life, just as mundane and ordinary as ever, cosmic murder attempts notwithstanding.

The helicopter crash was featured across the front page of The Times by morning, and apparently no one was hurt. The pilot had somehow been flung from the helicopter into a nearby window and miraculously survived without even a scratch. The only real casualty was your every worldly possession. 

After a personal calamity of that scale, you’d hoped you might be offered an extended leave from work. Unfortunately, corporate America stops for no tragedy. 

The only thing you're offered is a very sympathetic email the day after with a gift voucher for Dominos attached. Then Sally from HR had let you know that, given the severity of your situation, the company was generously granting you three whole personal days to sort out your affairs. After that you were requested to return to the office—the second quarter of the financial year was beginning soon after all. 

And so you find yourself back at work.

Back to 8+ hours a day spent sitting in your rickety office chair, killing your eyesight in front of your computer screen as you pore over excel sheets.  Back to the same old boring one-on-one meetings with your boss, who keeps harping on about Key Performance Indicators, as if they mean anything. You don’t understand what the point is. No matter how key your performance is, it never seems to be enough to net you a raise. 

“Our total revenue increased by 15% compared to last year, which is a significant achievement considering the challenges in the market, but I know we can do better if we just–”

You stifle a yawn, as you readjust yourself in your chair. It’s Monday morning, and you find yourself in one of the stale meeting rooms, with staler treats that you’re not even allowed to have because they are for external clients only. Your boss is right next to you, droning on and on about how she wants to see better results in the next fiscal quarter. All the while you’re trying to fight the losing odds of keeping your eyes open and the temptation of gravity that wants your head to lay down on the conference table for an impromptu nap.  

“We managed to improve our profit margin by 3% by reducing overhead costs, but we need to focus on further optimizing our operations in order to–”

Out of nowhere, the sound of her shrill nasal voice stops, and for a second you think that perhaps, sweet mercies of mercies, the meeting is finally over. But instead she points out the window and says the last thing you expect. 

“Hey, isn’t that Spiderman?” 

Huh?

You whip your head around to stare out the window so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash, and the sight that greets you is nearly enough to give you a heart attack on the spot. 

Oh, it’s Spiderman alright. Your Spiderman. 

Your maybe-vampire-but-maybe-not (he hasn’t combusted in sunlight yet, but then again he wears a full-body spandex suit) Spiderman.

Your Spiderman is right there in front of you in plain sight on the outside of the building, plastered to the wide wall-to-wall meeting room window. That dark blue super suit with the angry red spider emblazoned on his chest like a neon sign screaming: ‘Here I am!’ 

Your boss skips closer to the window in giddy excitement, until the two of them are only about a feet away from each other separated by a half an inch of glass.

“Look, his suit is different! I wonder if it’s an upgrade?” she exclaims, tilting her head to study him from the window. “He sure is a lot bigger in person, isn’t he?” 

You feel the blood drain from your face, and the whole of your back breaks out in cold clammy sweat against your blouse. Doing your best to act normal, you force yourself to stay seated in your chair despite the shrill scream ringing in your head and the way your heart is threatening to leap right out of your throat. 

What the hell does he think he’s doing!?

Thank fuck your boss still has her back to you, too enthralled by the unexpected superhero sighting to pay attention to anything else. You take advantage of her distraction to gesture frantically at Miguel, waving him away with as covert of a shooing motion as you can manage and praying that he’ll take the hint.

You know he sees you because the triangular outlines of his eyes narrow into annoyed slits and then he turns his face away as if offended, refusing to look at you. But at least he finally moves, leaping into the air and disappearing out of the sight of the window. 

“Oh, shoot! There he goes again,” your boss says, letting out a long, loud sigh as if even she doesn’t want to go back to listening to her own voice for the rest of this meeting. “Well, back to work. Guess that was the excitement for the day.”

Scratch what you were saying before. There are no more completely mundane days. Not now that Miguel O’Hara has entered your life. 

Once upon a time, your biggest dilemma with him was that he was avoiding you, refusing all your attempts to force a face-to-face meeting. Now you find yourself in the strange position of having the opposite problem.

True to his promise, Miguel is always there to protect you. 

In fact, he’s just plain always there. 

Never more than 10 feet away, regardless of where you go. He’s the last thing you see… or rather, hear before you go to sleep, his incessant snoring reverberating off the walls of your shared hotel room. Then, when you wake, it’s to his big 6’9” frame draped across the tiny velvet sofa, his long legs sticking off the end and hanging out into the room. 

Miguel hovers over you when you eat, in case you get another piece of toast stuck in your throat and he needs to do the Heimlich maneuver on you again. Or, like that one time last week, in case you developed another hitherto completely undiscovered food allergy and have to be rushed to the ER. He is constantly on alert, eyes glued to you at all times.

Miguel comes with you when you go grocery shopping at the corner bodega. Sticking close to your back in the cramped aisles, lest one of the shelves fall over and bury you under crates of Lucky Charms and Fruit Loops… again.  He has a sneaky habit of covertly dropping the most nutritiously questionable grocery items in your basket: jellied donuts, sugar-frosted pop tarts, fun dip and jolly ranchers. He eats like a five year old who has too much pocket money and no understanding of the food pyramid. It’s worrying to watch and you definitely google diabetes risk for spiders at least once, but the internet has nothing helpful to offer on that front.

Even when you’re relaxing in the luxury hotel suite that’s become your home, flipping through Tik Tok-edits on your iPhone (the newest model, which Lyla snagged for you!) or catching up on Netflix, Miguel is always right there. Not two steps away from you, looking over your shoulder. 

Being the constant center of Miguel's attention is… disconcerting. You know it’s because he’s watching for the next random disaster to strike, but having his eyes on you nonstop leaves you feeling uncomfortably aware of him all the time. Especially when you’re trying to watch Bridgerton on your new macbook pro (also courtesy Lyla) and an R-rated scene comes on. You’ve resorted to having Lyla order books and magazines for him in an attempt to keep him occupied, but it doesn’t seem to make much difference.

It’s so bad that you can barely go to the bathroom without Miguel guarding the door like a zealous German Shepherd, his back plastered to the nearest wall when you emerge. You try not to let the lack of privacy bother you… or to think about the fact that his spidey-supersenses probably let him hear everything.

The only place Miguel doesn’t come with you is when you go to work, because he doesn’t have the clearance needed to get into the building—tourists and non-personnel aren’t allowed any further than the lobby. It doesn’t stop him from climbing the walls of the building and hanging around outside the 44th floor though. You know he’s there because, you see his shadow blurring at the window whenever you get up to get more coffee or unstick the paper jammed in the printer. 

It’s an adjustment, but for all the madness that comes with the package, having Miguel around does make you feel safe. 

Time always seems to pass too quickly when there’s a deadline approaching. 

The problem is that right now the due it’s not the date of a school assignment or some work project that you’re worrying about. And if you take too long, the consequences will be much worse than a lower grade or a slap on the wrist. If you fail to meet this deadline, it will be the end of the world—not just as you know it, but for everyone in your entire universe.

A week ago you had been dauntless, facing Miguel down across the table at Starbucks and announcing that you intended to fight cosmically impossible odds in order to live. Bold even, when you’d confidently declared that the only thing you needed was three months and his protection from the universe's murder attempts to make that happen.

In retrospect, you might have been less dauntless and more… delusional, because so far the only real progress you've made is drawing up a Master Plan, complete with a bullet point list and no idea if any of it is actually going to accomplish anything.

'A Cosmic Masterplan to survive' - Phase one

Step 1: Personal history:

Identify past wrongdoings

Determine if they could explain cosmic retaliation

Step 2: Analyze incident patterns:

Study recurring near death incidents

Identify commonalities and patterns

Determine strategies to stop or prevent future occurrences

Step 3: Research genealogy:

Explore family history

Investigate any ancestors who may have incurred celestial grudges

Determine if these grudges extend to descendants

Step 4: Examine past life wrongdoings:

Establish if reincarnation is real

Investigate potential past life transgressions

Assess if they correlate with current cosmic retaliation

Step 5: Seek cosmic expert assistance:

Consider approaching Dr. Strange for guidance

Request expertise in understanding cosmic phenomena

Things had started out okay. 

You completed Step 1 in less than a day, quickly compiling a list of all the people you’d wronged in your lifetime. Anything that might make the universe want to intervene on their behalf and dole out some karma against you.

So far, your life's most egregious crimes include:

That time when you wet the bed during a sleepover when you were six and blamed it on your friend Sally Jenkins.

The night you bailed out in the middle of a date with a dentist from Tinder who insisted on ordering for you and kept talking about Alpha and Betas. (It was only after a very confusing and awkward conversation that you realized he was not talking about the omegaverse). You’re pretty sure you did both of you a favor when you told him you were going to use the bathroom before dessert and took off without saying goodbye instead.

That summer you brought only chocolate with coconut back to share with your coworkers after your vacation in Canada so that Matt in accounting (who always steals your yogurt out of the office fridge) couldn’t have any because he's allergic to coconut.

Are those the actions of a good person? Probably not. 

Are they petty? Oh yeah. 

Are they bad enough to justify karmic retaliation from the universe in the form of death? You doubt it.

As for Step 2, despite all the near death experiences you've had recently, there doesn’t seem to be any discernible pattern that could help you predict or prevent future incidents. After all it’s a bit difficult to predict that an impromptu mounted police parade would take place near your office, only for there to be a wild stampede of panicky horses that tried to mow you over. 

Step 3 of your plan? Another dud. 

Your family line is made up of uncles working blue-collar jobs at warehouses, aunties who pester you about being single, one grandfather who likes to talk about how things were better in the old days and a grandmother who likes to complain that you never call every time you call her (and another grandma you actually like because she feeds you sweets and cakes when you go visit).

There are no skeletons hidden in your family closet. Nothing interesting at all except maybe that one cousin who claims to have hooked up with Leonardo Di Caprio at Coachella (unverifiable and unlikely).

Your mission to try to figure out if all of this is caused by any past life connections in Step 4? 

It had seemed like a reasonable thing to look into, but how the heck do you go about doing that? You’ve put it on hold for now.

As for the final step? Your search to seek out cosmic expert assistance is still ongoing.

Contacting another Supe that has a magical expertise in the cosmic should be the most logical avenue. Doctor Strange is the superhero that famously deals with the magical cosmos stuff, so you figured maybe he could help in some way. That it wouldn't be hard for Miguel to reach out to him, one superhero to another.

It’s the one part of your plan you could actually take action on that seems like it might lead somewhere. Problem is, you've run into a big sassy roadblock named Miguel O'Hara. 

Miguel flatly refuses to have anything to do with Dr. Strange. 

His justification? 

"Hate that guy."

Repeatedly pestering him has gotten you nowhere, and it’s not like you, a random normie, can just rock up outside of Dr. Strange’s residence and ask for help because the universe is out to get you. That’s a good way to get yourself hauled away, like that guy from Colorado who was in the news last year for faking a UFO invasion with cheap props on YouTube and then camping out outside of Bruce Banner’s lab. Idiots like that show up from time to time, Superhero fanatics seeking the attention of the Avengers for some fake emergency.

Worst comes to worst, you could probably just stand outside Doctor Strange’s house until something tries to kill you again and hope that he’ll notice, but you’re not sure the universe won’t thwart you on purpose. Probably not the best use of your limited time, especially since you’re out of PTO. 

For now, you’re hoping to change Miguel’s mind through sheer persistence, but given how stubborn the man is, that might be more of a lost cause than trying to thwart the universe itself. 

It’s payday today, and you’ve decided to take Miguel to dinner in Chinatown as thanks for the man’s continuous efforts in saving your life.

As touristy as that area can be, there are some good, cheap diners owned by grumpy Cantonese families that serve large enough portions to feed this horse of a man.

It’s not entirely selfless. You’re tired of being cooped up in the hotel room as soon as you get off work, and you want to stretch your legs. You’re also hoping that stuffing Miguel full of food will make him more receptive to the next round of your arguments in favor of Step 5 of your Cosmic Masterplan. 

But you’ve been here for two hours now, and you’re not sure Miguel knows the meaning of the word full. 

He’s ordered egg tarts by the dozen. Crispy fried seafood noodles drenched in sweet cornstarch slurry. Deep fried turnip cakes soaked in sweet soy sauce. Beef Ho Fun. Every other dish is deep fried and slathered in XO sauce, and you are starting to be genuinely concerned about his cardiovascular health as you watch him shovel it down his maw, barely pausing to chew as he goes.

At least he looks happy while eating? Endearingly so. It’s the only time you’ve seen him relaxed and finally drop his guard a little bit, though you’re sure he’s still aware of every minute detail in his surroundings. You decide it’s better not to say anything since scolding him about being a glutton would be like the pot name calling the kettle. Your wolfish food habits is a shared hobby you have with Miguel at this point. 

“What’s wrong with the egg tarts?” you ask, eyeing the plate that lies still untouched on the table, the only food to have escaped Miguel’s massacre. Given how sweet they are, you would have expected him to inhale them within seconds. 

“I ordered them for you,” he says, not slowing down as he spears more food onto his plate. “Your favorite, right?” 

You nod slowly and reach for one, touched by the gesture but not sure what to say. 

There’s a fleck of sauce smudged on his cheek, a stray rice grain on his nose. He looks like any other civilian as he scarfs down the food in quick succession.

Out of his super suit, he looks different. He’s partial to oversized clothes that makes him look oddly gangly even with his build. You’ve caught him with glasses on more than once, even though you’re pretty sure he’s mentioned that supersight is one of the things he’s gifted with. You can’t help but wonder if he wears them out of a sense of habit or if it’s a conscious fashion choice. Probably the former, given what you’ve seen him wear so far—fashion doesn’t seem to be one of his fortes. All in all, it makes him look like a much homelier person with a slightly nerdy vibe than the handsome superhero when he’s on the job.

He’s softer without the supersuit. Still scowling, but it’s less intimidating when he’s doing it wearing a big hoodie with dumb logos printed across his chest. 

It’s still odd seeing Rude Spiderman in these domestic settings, but you think you prefer him like this.

“How’s your plan coming along?” he asks, mouth full of fried rice as he’s already reaching for a piece of char siu. 

Of course, he has to ask you a question just as you bite into sweet and creamy egg custard. 

“I’m kind of stuck,” you admit, the words muffled slightly by the pastry in your mouth. “I think we need to talk about reaching out to Dr. Strange.”

“No.” He doesn’t even bother to stop eating, still chewing with a gusto as the word emerges.

Nothing more than that. No reasons or explanation given, just ‘No.’ 

Irritation brews in your chest at his unhelpfulness. He’s throwing a monkey wrench into your cosmic survival masterplan, and he won’t even tell you why. 

Too busy stuffing his face with crispy wontons. 

“But why? He’s the only Avenger with an expertise in cosmic magic!”

“Expertise, my ass,” he retorts. 

“Why do you hate him so much?”  You slide the plate of roasted duck across the table, away from him, and that finally makes him pay proper attention. 

Miguel is doing that scowling thing again, first at you and then dropping his gaze to glaring down at his rice and chopstick like he’s about to stab it. 

“Because he’s an idiot. “Doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. Gives terrible advice.” 

“He was one of the world’s leading brain surgeons,” you huff. “I don’t think he’s an idiot, Miguel.”

Miguel leans over the table, sliding the plate back closer to where he’s seated. 

“Being handy with a scalpel isn’t a transferable skill to the supernatural. And he wears a cape. Only idiots wear capes.”

“Wait, what? You don’t like him because he wears a cape!?” you spit out incredulously. You don’t understand this man’s logic sometimes.

“Capes are impractical. Get snagged everywhere. No superhero worth the name would wear one,” he explain as if this alone perfectly justifies hating someone. He stabs a piece of meat with his chopstick and brings it to his mouth. “I will never ask that man for help again.”

Then he inhales the rest of the plate of roasted duck. 

You leave the restaurant frustrated. 

Miguel’s stubbornness remains as immovable as stone, and this big red and blue boulder has left you stuck at a dead end roadblock in the middle of a street, one you don’t know how to get around. He won't agree to talk to Strange, and you don’t know what else to do.

You need divine inspiration, or failing that maybe just… a hint. Something to tell you what direction to go in. Some kind of a sign.

Deep in thought, you turn round a corner, barely noticing how the alley narrows as you keep walking forward.  It’s not until a pile of crates in front blocks your path, forcing you to stop dead in your tracks that you lift your head to survey your surroundings. 

You and Miguel are at a small alley that you don’t recognize, which is weird because you know this area like the back of your hand. Somewhere along the way you must’ve taken a wrong turn.

Just ahead of you, there's a red stall set up on the sidewalk surrounding a small rickety table with red cloth draped over it, a couple of folding chairs set up in front.

Above it is… a giant sign. Fortune Teller, it says. 

Not quite the metaphorical sign you were asking for a few minutes ago, but maybe the universe has given up on subtlety for today. Hey, at least it’s not trying to kill you… unless fortune teller assassins are a thing. Shit, is the universe resorting to baiting traps now? You really hope it doesn’t start setting out poisoned cookies on window sills, because then it will be game over for you and Miguel both. 

You look the stall over, noticing that there are no crystal balls. No tarot cards. No trinkets or ancient scrolls like the ones you see in the movies.

There’s just an old lady. Her head is cleanly shaven, shining slick under the sole street lamp in the alley. She’s wearing a thick robe with a blue shawl draped over her shoulders that seems much too warm for the current weather, and cheap oversized sunglasses perch on her small nose despite it being evening. That outfit is certainly a choice.

Maybe you should be more cautious, but what harm can it do at this point?

The fortune teller certainly looks harmless and frail with her big round cheeks, sitting on a small stool. Even though she looks nothing like her, she makes you think of your grandmother—the one you actually like to call. The grandma who always has cookies stashed away for you when you come to visit.

Maybe she can give you a reading of who you were in your past life.

Maybe she can give you a protection amulet to make the universe chill the fuck out for a while.

Maybe she can burn some incense that will make you relax and get rid of the migraine you've gotten since the universe decided to murder you.

"Miguel." You tug at the lapel of his jacket, and point in the direction of the sign.

He turns around, scanning the space and then his eyes narrow disapprovingly.

"Fortune… teller,” Miguel reads off the sign in a slow skeptic drawl. He doesn't need to say more to express his complete and utter disdain, but that doesn’t stop him.

"You know it's all a scam right? People like this can't actually tell the future. They have no supernatural powers. What they do is cold reading."

It’s entirely unsurprising Miguel doesn't like the idea. There are a lot of things Miguel doesn’t like.

"What else do you propose we do?"

"Ask someone with actual skills who can help us?"

"You were the one who shot down the idea of asking Doctor Strange for help," you remind him.

"I don’t want his help," Miguel shoots back, grimacing as though the mere mention of the name is enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

"Yeah, so you keep telling me." You continue on to the stall, despite your companion's strong protests.

The sweet old lady greets you as you sit down at the table. She looks even weirder from up close, her bald head abnormally large for her small body. You try not to stare, not wanting to make her self-conscious, but you can’t help but wonder how gravity keeps her head upright. 

“Fifty dollars,” she announces the moment you take a seat. 

Fifty bucks to get your fortune read!? Talk about highway robbery! You could get seven overpriced Spiderman cookies for that. 

“That’s too much.” You shake your head, rising from your seat. 

“Okay, okay. I can do cheaper,” the woman immediately concedes, looking nervous at your sudden outburst, and you have to bite back a smile. 

That was easy. 

“How much cheaper?” you ask. You know how this game is played. 

“Twenty?”

If she’s willing to drop the price from fifty to twenty that easily, you can definitely get her to go lower. 

“Ten.” You cross your arms where you stand, making no move to sit down.

“Are you really haggling over this? You were the one who wanted to do this, and now you’re going to cheap out over ten bucks!?” Miguel says from behind you, but you ignore him. It’s enough to have him there looming over the lady as you stare her down, taking a note out of his intimidation tactic book. 

“Some of us aren’t made out of money, Miguel–” 

“Fine! Ten, I’ll do it for ten,” the lady says over the top of your arguing. 

She’s skittish in the sudden silence that follows, looking over her shoulder to her left and right, as if she’s checking if your loud outbursts have attracted any attention.

Seemingly reassured that there’s only the three of you here, she gestures for you to sit back down and then tilts her head towards you. 

From behind her sunglasses, you can see that her eyes are clouded white from glaucoma, but when she raises her gaze to give Miguel an appraising look from head to toe, it’s obvious that she’s still able to see.  

“Your husband is tall.”

You see Miguel go rigid out the corner of your eye and chance a quick glance up at him. His sour expression hasn’t changed but you can tell he’s uncomfortable from the way his fingers are gripping the fabric of his hoodie where the chain holding his ring is hiding underneath the layers of clothing.

"Can you do a past life reading?" you ask instead, trying to steer the conversation away from anything that might inflict further painful reminders upon him. "I want to know if I could have attracted bad karma in my past lives."

“No such thing,” she says bluntly, shaking her head, "You have no past life. Reincarnation is not real."

That’s step 4 taken care of, you think to yourself, and you think you hear Miguel choke back a laugh behind you. You’re not thrilled that he’s having fun at your expense, but at least he’s not sad anymore. 

"Uh… okay…" You try to think of what else was on your list. "Then can I buy a protection amulet or something? I've had really bad luck lately."

The old granny looks you over appraisingly, eyes traveling from the top of your head as far down as she can see before the table top gets in the way, and her benign and friendly smile fades as she does. 

"No," she says, eyes wrinkling with worry. "An amulet is of no use to you. Just a waste of money."

Oh wow, grandma is really dissing you right now.

She gestures her hand in a come hither motion to get you to lean down, and then pulls out a paper and pen and starts to draw an uneven circle with thick, crude lines.

"See here?" she says as she loops the circle closed, "This is all of us, our world" 

Miguel is suddenly right next to you, hunching down and bent over the small table. You don’t know when he managed to sneak up on you, but he’s right there, so close his shoulder is brushing up against yours. 

The fortune teller moves her pen inside the circle to draw a much smaller one, then a forked line sticking out of it, and another line across the center of that one. It’s so crudely drawn it takes you a second to realize it’s a stick figure. 

"This is you," she points at it with a pen, seeming to admire her own creation.

Next to you, Miguel is staring down at the childish drawing with his hands crossed against his chest in irritation, his right eyelid is twitching. He looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm.

Even though he’s not saying a word, you swear you can almost hear his inner monologue, protesting the lady’s poor handmanship and drawing skills. He doesn’t need to say it but even $10 is too much of a price to pay, even for a man with infinity dollars.

Seemingly oblivious to Miguel’s irritation, the fortune teller proceeds to draw angry darts from inside the circle aimed at the poor you stick figure. Pressing so hard with her pen that the ink bleeds into the paper and the darts are starting to look like daggers. You almost wince when you see a couple of them pierce through your stick figure. “Outside interference has brought bad luck to you. It will never go away; it will follow you forever.”

You peer down at the paper with a sense of unease. Aren’t scam fortune tellers supposed to tell you what you want to hear? Where are the reassuring lies? Shouldn’t she be telling you that you’re going to meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger? Or that you were a princess in a past life? Since when do they tell you that you’re doomed to die over and over?

“So what am I supposed to do?” you ask. 

“Keep moving,” she says with an unfaltering smile as if she hasn’t given you the most grim fortune telling of all time. 

You lean back in your seat deflated. Scam or not, the prognosis isn’t looking good for you right now. 

The lady ducks under her desk, and is sorting through a pile of junk paper, before she pops back up again. She shoves something into your hands, and leans over to you with a piercing gaze in her milky-white eyes. “The man who will help you lives here.”

Hope sparks bright in your chest at her words. Finally, a lead! Someone who can help you! You can’t believe your random decision to stop has given you the first clue that might actually lead somewhere!

You look down at what she’s given you. It's a pamphlet map of New York. Yellow and bright, the title reads: ‘Star Maps of Celebrity Homes.’ One of those cheap plastic ones they hand out with the tour buses. 

The hope that had been building in your chest deflates, popping like a cheap balloon. 

You make yourself scan the tacky star map for any clues as to who she means, but you you don’t see anything to lift you out of your disappointment. As much as you love Robert De Niro and Whoopi Goldberg and would love to get their autographs, you don’t think any of the people on this map are in any position to help you. 

You sigh. 

Ok, maybe Miguel was right. The fortune teller was a bust. What a waste of money. 

From behind you, you can already hear the rustle of movement from him, as he’s stepping away. 

“Come on, Cielito,” he says as he nods his head in the direction towards the exit of the alley.

The fortune teller grabs your hands in hers, as she leans in closer to your ear and whispers, as if trying to be out of earshot of Miguel. “Be careful with that one. He’s not from around here.”

Back at the hotel, you plop down on the ridiculously wide and fluffy bed, but not even the luxury of your surroundings can lift your spirits. You’re still uncomfortably full from dinner. The overload of delicious egg tarts sit like lead in your stomach, weighing you down. 

Wasn’t there a Swedish king at some point who ate too many sweet buns and died of a burst stomach? Wouldn’t it be ironic if, after all the calamity and disasters you’ve escaped, your gluttony was the thing that ended you? You don’t think anyone who knows you would be surprised to read ‘died from eating too many egg tarts’ in your obituary. It’s perfect. A stupid and meaningless death to match your stupid and meaningless life. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Miguel drag off his hoodie over his head. You squint your eyes, pretending not to look as the tan skin of his firm muscled back is revealed to you before he pulls on a tight-fitting white t-shirt that pulls taut against his chest.

The free peep show usually makes excitement and heat thrill through your spine, but tonight it does nothing. You feel… oddly numb. 

The lights go off with a gentle click, and then you are left by yourself in darkness with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

You don’t know what to do. The fortune teller had been as stupid and pointless as every other idea you’ve had. 

You grit your teeth, sighing as you turn restlessly onto your side in the bed, stretching out your leg to make yourself more comfortable, hoping sleep will claim you so that you can stop these thoughts from running on a constant loop on your brain like the world’s shittiest radio channel. 

God, you can’t believe you spent $10 dollars on that fortune teller, and got nothing to show for it except a crappy map meant for gullible tourists. 

What are you going to do if you’re too stupid to think of any other ideas? Your skin crawls at the thought, a tangle of worry sitting in the pit of your stomach, climbing upwards and trying to burst out of your chest. You roll over, but it only seems to get worse. 

Are you just going to wait out your time like a sitting duck? 

You twist your body, squeezing your eyes shut. The thoughts won’t stop. 

Are you just going to sit here doing nothing? 

Are you going to di–

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeech.

The loud noise startles you, and you freeze, suddenly aware of just how vulnerable you are with only the sheets and comforter for protection. 

Oh god, what is trying to kill you this time? 

Your eyes are wide open with a strain, staring off into the darkness like a deer in the headlights as you listen to the sound of something sharp scraping against the wooden floor.

It’s coming closer. 

Fuck. Is it an assassin? Some kind of otherworldly monster that’s come to drag you to hell with it? 

And where is Miguel? Why isn’t he stopping it!? 

Maybe he’s gone, a cruel voice whispers in your head. Maybe he’s had enough. Maybe he sees what you don’t want to—the futility of what you’re trying to do. Running around like a headless chicken trying to find a way out of the grand cosmic slaughterhouse that is set on ending your life. Maybe he’s given up on you. 

Maybe you need to give up too. 

You’re too scared to risk making noise, but you can’t not do anything. You turn as soundlessly as you can in bed, rolling towards Miguel—hoping with all your might that he’ll still be there to save you—only to be greeted by the sight of his back closer than you expect, hunched over the lounge chair as he drags it towards the bed, the metal legs scraping against the floor, making the very sound that had just scared you half to death. 

You dart upright in the bed, outraged.

“What are you doing!?”

Miguel looks back at you, then down at the chair he’s moving, and then back up at you with that blank expression on his face. 

“Moving this?” He sits down on the lounge chair that’s now next to your bed, “I heard you tossing and turning. Thought you couldn’t sleep.” 

There’s a pause as he peers at you in the darkness, then he rubs his hand at the back of his neck.

 “Shit, did the noise scare you? Sorry, Cielito.”

There’s that nickname again. You don’t remember when it started or where it came from, but it’s something he’s been calling you more and more often. He’s wearing a wrinkly oversized t-shirt and a sheepish expression as he’s eyeing you, making sure you’re okay. It’s almost, nearly endearing. 

“Why do you keep calling me Cielito?” you ask. “Is that what you used to call other me?”

“No, I didn’t call her that.” He shakes his head, the same aching longing in his eyes that’s always there at the mention of your other self. “I called her Nena.” 

“Then why Cielito?”

He tilts his head down at you as if the answer is obvious, and then he breaks out into a small smile. “Because you keep falling through the sky.”

You stare at him in silence for a second, at the goofy looking grin he’s wearing.  He looks so proud of himself and his silly dad joke that you can’t help but smile back, laughter bubbling up and out of your chest. His smile just gets bigger.

What a dork.

You lay back down in bed, still tittering with laughter, and there’s a comforting weight that rests on top of your head for a brief moment. It’s his hand. The touch is pleasant, his palm warm against your skin, and the comfort of it erases the last trace of residual alarm in your body. 

“Just go to sleep already." The words are impatient, but his voice is gentle, and it makes your chest warm as he continues, “It’s okay. You don't have to worry. I won't let anything happen to you.”

He hasn’t given up on you. 

His words drip through your insides and warms you from inside out. It’s comforting, the way a blanket feels wrapped around you in the winter when your heating is out. He sounds so confident when he says them. Like there’s no doubt in his mind that you’ll survive this, because he will personally see to it. The anxious chatter in your mind finally quiets, and you close your eyes, knowing he’s only an arm’s length away. 

Somehow, with Miguel here, the impossible odds you’re up against don’t seem quite so impossible, and hope buzzes pleasantly in your chest as you drift off to sleep. It's the best sleep you've had in a long time.

~ Next Issue

Credits & Dedication: Love a thousand and million years for @thirstworldproblemss who had to finely comb over and beta-read and edit this chapter over and over and rubber duck i with me while I was fixing up the details. I hope that I get to write with her til I go old and grey and senile, because it is the most wonderful joy and experience and I love her so.

This chapter is also dedicated to the wonderful and talented @forwantofwill who was endlessly kind in doing this amazing, beautiful piece of art of Miguel eating cookies in the windowsill Thank you so so much for making this and gifting me not just with your immense talent but also your time!

For those of you who haven't yet please follow her! She's amazingly talented and have such a wonderful blog filled with gorgeous and amazing fanart!

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.

[mariacallous]

Now that the Democratic National Convention is over, the next major battleground in the 2024 election is the media.

The Harris-Walz campaign needs to be ready.

Although former President and Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump has struggled to respond to the new Democratic ticket, Republicans will likely get in line with a unified media strategy. The message they will seek to promote is that Democrats are running the most radical, leftist candidates in U.S. history.

In recent elections, Democrats have had difficulty with the new turbocharged, fast-moving and unfiltered media landscape. In 2016, Trump beat former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, harping on the investigation into her emails. In 2020, President Joe Biden defeated Trump, but under unusual pandemic circumstances that put much of the conventional campaign processes on hold. As campaign conditions returned to normal this year, things did not go as well for Biden. One televised debate, noted New York Times columnist James Poniewozik, brought his candidacy to an end: “There was simply a horrendous TV outing—less than two hours that changed history.” But even before Biden stepped onstage, his poll numbers were lagging after a conservative media onslaught about his age and alleged corruption.

To sustain the energy that boosted Vice President Kamala Harris through the convention in Chicago, Harris’s campaign needs to devise an effective media strategy tailored to the current era. To do so, her team should look back to 1992, when then-Arkansas Gov. Bill Clinton’s savvy war room figured out how Democrats could thrive in another new age—of cable television, investigative journalism, and state-of-the-art political advertising. While the news media has evolved significantly in terms of form and content since Clinton won the presidency, Harris will need to achieve a mastery similar to that of Clinton’s historic campaign team.

The early 1990s seem like simpler times. In January 1994, NBC Today Show’s Bryant Gumbel asked his cohost Katie Couric: “What is the internet anyway?” Email was a novelty. Surfing was done in the ocean. Cable news played by the traditional rules of objective reporting. Smartphones were in development, and cell phones remained a luxury. Social media meant going to the movies with friends.

Yet the 1992 presidential campaign—which pitted Clinton, then-incumbent President George H.W. Bush, and independent candidate Ross Perot against each other in a race for the White House—took place across a media landscape that had changed dramatically since the 1960s. Cable had created a 24-hour news cycle where stories came out quickly. These stations, as well as the increasingly popular one-hour network news zine-style shows (Nightline, for example), depended on a healthy audience share for their livelihood, in contrast to the public service ethos of the half-hour nightly news programs from earlier times. This shift meant that sensationalism became a hot commodity. Investigative journalism born from Watergate had given rise to a generation of reporters who were constantly on the hunt for wrongdoing. Moreover, conservative talk radio had exploded after the Federal Communications Commission abandoned the fairness doctrine in 1987. Syndicated hosts such as Rush Limbaugh commanded between millions of listeners on over 600 stations. Daily tabloid newspapers and comedic shows, too, were having a greater impact on politics.

And in advertising, the “Morning in America” campaign that helped then-incumbent President Ronald Reagan win reelection in 1984 set a new standard for sophisticated production techniques. Television spots became like short films, capable of seducing and devastating all at once.

Starting with the 1980 election, and as a party felt to be on the outs from the mainstream culture, the GOP saw an opportunity to shape the national conversation through an aggressive media strategy that defined the way the public perceived its opponents and itself. As they built a new conservative majority, Republicans made huge investments which very often paid off.

In 1980 and 1984, Reagan’s campaign team managed its message to transform the one-time conservative extremist into the nation’s savior. Then, in 1988, Bush pulled together one of the most brutal campaigns of modern history under the direction of South Carolina campaign consultant Lee Atwater. Atwater tore down all the guardrails as to what was permissible, institutionalizing an anything-goes philosophy. Playing on themes of patriotism, religious nationalism, and a racial backlash, Bush and Atwater redefined the promising Massachusetts Gov. Michael Dukakis—an intelligent technocratic reformer—into a heartless left-wing radical who looked terrible in a tank.

In 1992, from its perch in Little Rock, Arkansas, Clinton’s inner circle was determined not to repeat these experiences. It had been hardened during the primaries when its candidate barely survived a sex scandal involving Arkansas state employee Gennifer Flowers. James “the Ragin’ Cajun” Carville had guided Clinton through the crisis and emerged as the central figure behind the “comeback kid.” In a scene captured in the 1993 documentary The War Room, which provides the best look into this critical campaign, Carville warned his staff that Democrats needed to step up or conservatives such as Fox News chairman Roger Ailes would destroy them. With Carville leading the way, Clinton’s war room also included George Stephanopoulos (communications), Paul Begala (chief strategist), Stanley Greenberg (polling), and Mandy Grunwald (advertising).

Several principles guided Carville’s army. Speed was essential. In the cable era, sitting out of stories was no longer an option. Being patient could leave a candidate in the dust. The war room deployed a rapid response style that left no charge unanswered for long and aimed to provide counterarguments before allegations could set in the public mind. When reporters raised an accusation, Clinton’s team rejected the claims with resolve and force. At the same time, whenever Carville and Stephanopoulos got hold of any potentially damaging information about Bush or Perot, they released it to the media immediately rather than trying to think up the best spin.

Tired of the defensive and despondent outlook of Democrats following the political bloodbath in 1988, Clinton’s war room insisted that Democrats needed to play offense. “Why can’t we attack George Bush?” the documentary shows Carville asking his team. The film portrays an effort that fizzled as the team tried to stir a story about Bush having campaign material made overseas rather than in the United States. Nor was it shy about ripping into the weaknesses of Bush’s record.

In doing so, the Clinton war room also elevated clarity into an artform. Carville’s team grasped how long and complicated arguments did not fly in an age of soundbites. They famously drew on a board: “the economy, stupid.” There were two other punchy slogans to guide them: “Change versus more of the same” and “don’t forget health care.” That reminder to staffers was also an example of how to convey a message with simplicity. According to the Los Angeles Times, the crew in Little Rock “share[d] a belief in the primacy of ‘the message’ as the driving force in a presidential campaign, downplaying the importance of such traditional political tools as precinct organizations, registration drives and Election Day turnout efforts.”

The team also worked to sell the message through the realm of popular culture, traditionally dismissed as undignified. Clinton appeared on the Arsenio Hall Show and MTV, in People, and more. The campaign blitzed talk show hosts with information that made Bush look like an out-of-touch well-to-do who only cared about foreign policy while constantly reminding them of Clinton’s humble origins.

In November 1992, Clinton won with 370 Electoral College votes. Four years later, he defeated Sen. Robert Dole and was reelected.

Subsequent Democrats could not replicate his success. In 2000 and 2004, respectively, Vice President Al Gore and Sen. John Kerry failed to be as effective on the media stage. Decorated Vietnam veteran Kerry, for instance, was shell-shocked when then-incumbent President George W. Bush’s campaign tagged him as a flip-flopping politician and an independent group invented the concept of “swift-boating” by throwing out false accusations to discredit his military record. Political consultant Chris LaCivita, who is currently co-managing Trump’s campaign, was one of the people who produced the spot for the “Swift Boat Veterans for Truth” smear campaign.

Barack Obama reset Democratic campaign strategy in 2008. David Axelrod and his band of campaign operatives updated Carville’s model, demonstrating how effective use of social media tools such as Facebook, well-produced television spots with Reagan-like narratives, and not responding to the daily noise from the internet and cable television could provide a recipe for victory. Sen. John McCain and his running mate, Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, were no match.

Of course, the media campaign was a complement, not an alternative, to an aggressive turnout strategy that focused on driving up total votes in all 50 states.

The media challenges in 2024 have expanded again, even as the old ones remain relevant. One of the most grueling challenges facing Harris and Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz will be to survive the onslaught of disinformation, deepfakes, and openly partisan news that will hit them from all sides in the months to come. The recent hack by Iran, which Trump claims targeted his campaign, is a reminder that foreign interference will also be a problem.

Harris also needs to compete successfully in what New York Times columnist Ezra Klein has called the “attention field.” News moves at a fast speed and those who consume political news tend to move on very quickly. Attention spans are not easy to maintain. An effective campaign has to figure out how to keep the media focused on its candidate and message for substantial periods of time.

Between now and Election Day, Harris will be facing an opponent who has proven to be effective at working the media. Trump has repeatedly demonstrated an instinctive feel for the rhythm and dynamics of the news cycle. As president, he capitalized on the interconnected relationship between social media, cable news, online newspapers, and podcasts to dominate the national conversation and harden perceptions about opponents. He handled televised debates like a reality show, using body movements, facial expressions, controversial comments, and vicious insults. Most recently, he capitalized on an attempted assassination, standing up with blood dripping down his ear, surrounded by U.S. Secret Service agents, defiantly pumping his fist in the air and yelling: “Fight! Fight! Fight!” It was as if he could see how the event looked on a television screen.

Thus far, Harris’s team has been extremely effective on this playing field. It has staged the rollout methodically to generate good feeling, excitement, and constant media attention. Harris’s memes have caught fire on social media. Harris appears to have selected Walz as her running mate in part because of how adroit he has proven to be in this playing field despite being 60 years old. By uttering one word, “weird,” Walz remade the messaging of his entire party. When Republicans lobbed their initial attacks against Walz’s military record, the social media army hit back hard, although some commentators believe it needs to hit back harder.

The fight is only beginning. Democrats should not fool themselves into thinking Trump will simply lay down his gloves and walk away. When backed into a corner, Trump traditionally becomes more brutal.

But as Clinton’s war room demonstrated in the 1992 election, a savvy Democratic campaign updated to suit the modern media environment can take down the fiercest opposition and pave a road that leads to the White House.

[atlaculture]

Do you know of any specific resources on the musical instruments that might be present in the Avatar world? Especially from the water tribe(s)?

I'll probably elaborate on Air Nomad, Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation instruments in later posts, but I can go over some possible Water Tribe instruments right now.

Char's Analysis of Possible Water Tribe Instruments is fantastic!

Some notable instruments from Inuit, Inupiat, and Yupik peoples:

Kelutviaq / Qelutviaq - Yupik single-string lute

Tautirut - Canadian Inuit Fiddle

Qilaut / Qilaat / Cauyaq - A handheld frame drum used by Inuit, Inupiat, and Yupik peoples across that Arctic. It is played with a stick called a qatuk. It's made of caribou skin and wood.

Drawing on the Siberian influences in the Northern Water Tribe, we have...

Mouth Harp / Jaw Harp - A small instrument that's held in the mouth and played through tapping and plucking. Its origins are from Northern Siberia, but it's also played by some Inuit peoples.

Chukchi Flute - A three-piped flute of the Chukchi people.

There's also Mongolian, Central Asian, First Nation, and Alaska Native instruments, if you're willing to expand beyond Arctic music:

Mongolian Instruments

Central Asian Instruments

Khakas Instruments

Indigenous music of North America - Wikipedia

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

#A Childless Cat Dude

Stephen Jay Morris

9/23/2024

©Scientific Morality

Autumn came early to the Catskills this year.  Yellow and brown leaves from the Walnut and Maple trees have already blanketed our front yard. Squirrels fight each other for exclusivity of a tree. I can hear them chattering to each other like the married couple/neighbors on the east side of our house. A family just across the highway has a flagpole waving Old Glory and a “Trump for president” flag beneath it. I wonder if they get paid for that.

I’m glad it’s raining. That family I mentioned includes four boys, a mom and a dad, the latter of whom makes sure the boys engage in daily physical activities, like basketball, pickleball, and riding around on mini-motor bikes. He doesn’t want his boys to waste time playing video games! Almost every day throughout Spring and Summer, you can hear them harping and laughing at each other. The youngest son might have Autism. He runs around the yard, screaming like a banshee while his mother sits on a plastic chair and stares at her cell phone. I have never heard him use any English words. Let the rain fall. I’d rather hear the tranquil rain drops on my windowpane than testosterone-fueled grunts and groans. I am not impressed by masculinity nor with Machiavellian Femineity.

Right wing propaganda lingers in the atmosphere like an elephant fart. You see, White Nationalists are concerned about the White birth rate falling below 65%. White people might become a minority in our country. Oh, the pain!

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, the anti-abortion movement is not about being humanitarian to the helpless, innocent fetus. It’s about increasing the White population. Why do you think they want to outlaw birth control, masturbation, anal sex, and premarital sex? To make America White again! Of course, they deny this allegation. They maintain that it’s all about a fetal heartbeat. Sure, it is. I’m certain that they’ll try their hardest to pass a law providing that if a White female doesn’t have a child before she’s 30, then she’ll be arrested and taken to a Jesus Camp where there are Aryan soldiers waiting for her in the Joy Division room.

So, one Republican, who shall not be named, declared that the Democrats are full of childless cat women. Ever since Eve—from the Garden of Eden fame—took a bite of the apple from the Tree of Knowledge, men have been engaged in goofy misogamy and vicious mistreatment. That, plus their view that if females don’t use their natural equipment to make babies, then they are useless. Talk about a double standard. If a male is a bachelor and has lots of sex, that’s okay. If a woman raises and rescues cats, then she is an old maid.

I tried having kids, but there were physical barriers and medical problems. Both my and my wife’s families have histories of mental illness. We would likely have had at least one mentally ill child. Also, I think I would have been a crummy father. Plus, I don’t have to send my cats to college.

Why do I have an affection for felines? Well, they are not high maintenance, like dogs are. Don’t get me wrong, however—I am a dog lover, too! But cats, they don’t need to be walked, and there is no need to carry around a poop bag because they bury their own waste in an indoor “litter box.” Some say cats are aloof. It may seem that way, but in actuality, they are deep thinkers, contemplating your soul or listening to sounds that are up to two miles away. The only complaint I have about cats is their proclivity to knead furniture. Kneading is natural to them, so we easily solved this problem by providing our cats with a cat tree and other kitty-specific scratching posts.

No way am I anthropocentric, nor am I deontological. However, despite philosophical polemics, I trust my cats more than I would a CIA agent. If I’m missing some money from my wallet, I’m not going to blame my cats! Animals are far more trustworthy than Republicans.

So, in conclusion, I am a Childless Cat Dude and proud of it!

[musicinsurancecompany]

Types of String Musical Instruments

String instruments have knitted their musical magic throughout human history. It travels from cultures and generations. From the ancient lyres of Mesopotamia to the sophisticated violins of the Baroque era, these instruments have been integral to the evolution of music.

This blog will take you through the rich canvas of string. It will also remind you about how crucial it is to buy a dedicated string instrument insurance plan to protect your gear, irrespective of its type or family. Let's read on!

Meet the Members of the String Family

Plucked String Instruments: As the name suggests, the plucked string instruments make a sound when you pluck or strum their strings. Some of the best examples include the guitar, banjo, harp, and sitar.

Guitar: It is a versatile instrument that has a long neck and comes with typically six strings, although variations do exist. It is central to diverse musical genres, including rock, jazz, blues, and classical.

Banjo: With its roots of origin in Africa and adopted in the Americas, the banjo features a circular body and four to six strings. It is a prominent part of folk, bluegrass, and country music.

Harp: Characterized by its vertical frame and strings, it is one of the oldest string instruments. You would hear it in classical, folk, and Celtic music traditions.

Sitar: It is a plucked string instrument from India. It has a gourd-shaped body and movable frets. It plays a vital role in Indian classical music, with its intricate melodies and rhythmic patterns.

No matter which type of plucked string you play or own, make sure to secure it with the right insurance policy dedicated to musical instruments.

Bowed string instruments

Bowed string instruments produce sound when you vibrate their strings with a bow. The instruments that fall under this category are:

Violin: With its four strings and high-pitched sound, the violin is a cornerstone of classical orchestras. It also features prominently in various genres, including folk, jazz, and popular music.

Viola: Slightly bigger than the violin and tuned lower, the viola adds depth and richness to ensemble performances. It plays an essential role in classical chamber music and orchestras.

Cello: Also known as the violoncello, the cello has a deep, resonant tone. It is integral to orchestral arrangements, chamber music, and solo performances.

Double Bass: It is the largest and lowest-pitched instrument in the string family. It makes the base of the sound of bands. It is indispensable in classical, jazz, and contemporary music genres.

Fretted String Instruments

Fretted string instruments feature frets. The latter are metal strips implanted along the neck to mark specific musical intervals. Examples include the following:

Bass Guitar: Similar in appearance to the guitar but with a longer neck and fewer strings, the bass guitar produces lower frequencies and serves as the rhythmic backbone in many musical ensembles.

Ukulele: A small, four-stringed instrument with roots in Hawaii, the ukulele exudes a cheerful, bright sound. It is popular in folk, pop, and Hawaiian music styles.

Zither Family

Zithers are string instruments featuring a flat body with strings stretched across it. They are played by plucking or strumming the strings.

Autoharp: Equipped with buttons or keys that dampen specific strings, the autoharp enables players to create chords effortlessly. You can see them being used in folk and country music.

Appalachian Dulcimer: Originating from the Appalachian region of the United States, the dulcimer has a long, narrow body and fretted fingerboard. Musicians cherish it for its sweet, melodic tones.

Now that you are well aware of the broadness of string instruments, probably, you have also understood how delicate these pieces of art are. Isn’t it? So, if you own a string or are planning to buy one, do not give a second thought to buying a standalone string instrument insurance plan. This may seem just another piece of formal document to you in the first place. However, its benefits go beyond the same. It protects your gear from many unforeseen events that may make you fall into financial doldrums.

[whereareroo]

LET’S FOCUS ON THE REAL ISSUES

WF THOUGHTS (10/19/24).

Stop reading right now and make a list. What are the top ten issues that you want addressed by the federal government, your state government, or your local government?

I bet you a donut that none of your lists included banning transgender athletes from sports competition.

There’s a reason that your lists wouldn’t include a sports ban for transgender athletes. It’s not a big deal. The issue has no impact on the lives of 99.9% of Americans.

Due to privacy issues, it’s difficult to estimate the number of transgender athletes in America. An expert who focuses on NCAA college sports estimates that, out of the total sum of 550,000 NCAA athletes, there are fewer than 100 transgender NCAA college athletes in America. Out of the millions and millions of kids that play school sports from grades K through 12, a transgender expert conducted a national survey and could only locate 5 transgender athletes. Let’s summarize the math. From kindergarten through college, there are probably fewer than 200 transgender athletes in all of America.

Despite the math, conservative Republican candidates for office are always harping about banning transgender athletes from sports. They act as if it’s the biggest public policy issue in America. Trump talks about it at almost every rally. In the very tight U. S. Senate race in Texas, Ted Cruz talks about it at every single rally. When Fox News interviewed Kamala Harris, it was the second question that they asked. All across America, the transgender ban is a talking point for Republicans seeking federal, state, and local offices.

Instead of focusing on a topic that involves fewer than 200 athletes, let me give you some other random statistics to think about:

** 38,000,000 Americans (11.5% of the population) live in poverty.

** 6,700,000 American families (5.25% of all families) live in substandard housing.

** 13,000,000 American kids (20% of the total) are malnourished.

** 2,200,000 American high school seniors (13% of the total) don’t graduate from high school every year.

** 11,200,000 American adults (44% of all adults) struggle to pay for health care.

** 18,000,000 American adults over the age of 75 (85% of that population) cannot afford the combined costs of housing and necessary medial care.

** 595,000 small businesses close each year, and 50% of all small businesses don’t last longer than 5 years.

** Don’t even get me started on the numbers related to gun violence. Based on the last four years, we now average 600 mass shootings every year. More than 50,000 Americans are killed by guns every year. Another 120,000 are injured.

Why are the Republicans talking about 200 athletes instead of talking about the big issues that impact millions and millions of Americans? That’s easy. It’s because they’re not interested in solving problems. They’re interested in creating problems and causing division. They’re interested in inflaming people.

I urge you to listen to the speeches given by Republican candidates for federal, state, and local offices. If they talk about transgender stuff, you have to have a tough talk with yourself. Is this candidate a serious leader, or are they just a flamethrower seeking to create division, anger, and hostility? There are so many serious issues facing America. Be very skeptical of candidates who harp about sports and transgender athletes. The flamethrower candidates think that voters are suckers, and they can persuade voters with inflammatory issues even if those issues have no impact on 99.9% of Americans. Don’t fall for it. Don’t be a sucker.

We should use our votes to remove flamethrower politicians from political life in America. We deserve so much better. We have the power to change politics and bring seriousness back to political campaigns. Do your part.

[bigkahuna626-blog]

A Silent Voice - Blog Post

A Silent Voice, was a truly heart wrenching anime to watch. With recurring themes of friendship, forgiveness, and redemption. Shoya Ishida, a young child then adolescent, is the protagonist of this film, who is trying to make atonement for tormenting a deaf girl named Shoko Nishimiya when they were going through elementary school. The story delves into the repercussions of his action, his path to self-forgiveness, and the development of his friendship with Shoko and the other students in their class. As a result of addressing themes such as social isolation, hurdles to communication, and the intricacies of human relationships, it eventually conveys a compelling message about empathy and second chances.  

The bullying that transpired across the children due to differences and disability showcased how society can find anything and use it against their fellow person. While initially believed to just be play among children, the act of bullying extends past a physical sense and begins to affect the mental well being of not only the victim but the perpetrator as well. We see how Shoya goes from being the bully to realizing the consequences of his actions. His nature begins to change as he comes to terms with the fact that he cannot change what he has done in the past, but he can make a conscious effort to acceptance and treatment of people now.  

This relates to the themes of social isolation and population differences that can be seen just about everywhere. America as a whole is a melting pot of views, culture, and people. Yet, those same differences that could bring us together are harped on cause more division than unity. It begs the question as to whether this is the true nature of humans to find differences from the mass majority and isolate them or, could it be just the nurture of the population and how they were raised on the principles upheld by their society. 

[fashionista-harper]

ORIGINAL CHARACTER         ⸻         WILLOW JADE HARPER !

 /   ❝   INTRODUCTION   ─    

NAME:         willow jade harper

⸻ WILLOW.         the name is of old english origin and means "willow tree". this name was picked cause her parents used to sit under a old willow tree on her father's farm as teenagers and talk about their future together. 

         • °. ─ PRONOUNCIATION /         wi-low

⸻ JADE.         the name is of english origin and means "precious stone". this name was picked because she was born in march. jade is the birthstone of march. 

        • °. ─ PRONOUNCIATION /         jayd

⸻ HARPER.         tthe name is of european origin and means "harp player. " this is her father's last name. 

        • °. ─ PRONOUNCIATION /         haa-puh

NICKNAMES:

⸻ WILLA.        a play off of her name. this is used by close friends and her love interest. 

⸻ WILLOW-TREE.        this nickname comes from her parents because of their love of the old willow tree they used to sit under talking about their future. 

DATE OF BIRTH:       march 30th ( twenty four )

STAR SIGN:       aires

GENDER:        female ( she / her ) 

SEXUALITY:         pansexual

BIRTHPLACE:         macon, georgia, united states of america

LANGUAGES:         english & italian

( while her parents are both american, she learned italian in school )

 /   ❝   PERSONA !   ─    

PERSONALITY:         

⸻ willow is a complex person that a lot of people struggle to understand. she has a gentle approach to life. she wants to be as kind and sweet as she can, someone that others can be comfortable around but she tends to be a bit too harsh about it at times. she is impatient, someone who has all these thoughts, wishes and ideals of how her life should go and when it doesn't happen, she freaks out. she's eager to get to the stage of her life where everything is perfect and hates that things like that take time. she has the mindset of "i need to get this done - and i dont care who i hurt to get there" which can come across as cold hearted. she gets easily bored, someone who leaves a hobby half done as she got bored. while she does that with her hobbies ( like knitting or painting ) the same cannot be said about her professional life. she is someone who is hardworking and will wear herself to the bone if it means getting what needs to be done, done. while she aims for a big city dream - she was raised in the country and so she's reluctant to not show her effort in things as she displays those good old southern values. she is very observant to the extent of noticing things that might end up being the reason she gets killed one day. 

MYERS BRIGGS:          isfj - the defender

⸻ STRENGTHS.        supportive, reliable, observant, enthusiastic, hardworking, good practical skills

⸻ WEAKNESSES.        overly humble, takes things personally, repressing their feelings, reluctant to change, too altruistic

LIKES:         fashion. horses. dancing. jewelry. flirting, pushing her limits, red flags in her men. 

DISLIKES:        therapy, when people order food for her, loud booming music, watching tv without the subtitles. 

HABITS:        biting the inside of her cheek when she's angry as a way to hold her tongue. fiddling with her jewelry. 

FEARS:        living a boring life. flying. 

ALLERGIES:        none

MENTAL HEALTH:        she suffers from an eating disorder that she's getting help to recover from. 

PHYSICAL HEALTH:        she is underweight. 

OCCUPATION/CAREER:        she works part time in a fashion boutique while majoring in fashion design. she hopes to one day be a designer and a model for her own personal clothing line - but she knows if all else fails she can just take over her daddy's farm. 

 /   ❝   VISAGE   ─    

APPEARANCE:         willow has medium brown hair that tends to fall down flat around her shoulders. she has green eyes that reflect off the sun beautifully. the woman has been blessed with a petite body and height that inspires her towards her dreams of being a designer and model one day. she just needs to work her way through college. she is considered very beautiful and she knows it. her skin is considered caucasian but she does tend to tan very easily. 

        • °. ─ FACECLAIM / taylor hill

        • °. ─ HEIGHT&WEIGHT / five foot eight inches & fifty-five kilos

MODE OF DRESS:         willow tends to stick to a rather sweet looking aesthetic going for the sweaters, jeans, sundresses, cut off shorts kind of look. she tends to look well put together. thought she does prefer sundresses over wearing jeans. 

BODY MODIFICATIONS:         she has her ears pierced but no tattoos. 

GENERAL SCENT:         willow tends to smell like roses, vanilla and honey.

/   ❝   RELATIONS   ─   

FAMILY:         

⸻ MICHAEL HARPER.        father; the relationship between willow and her father has always been a good one. while he was a bit disappointed that he never got a son to take over the farm when he passes, he always doted on willow and spoiled her with whatever she could want. she is a daddy's little princess, and this shows with how she's still spoiled. 

⸻ EDEN HARPER.        mother; the relationship between willow and her mother is good, her mother has always encouraged her to do whatever it was that she wanted to do in life. willow and her mother talk nearly every day even if it's just a quick phone call at the end of the night, she was very anxious about letting willow leave their hometown but trusts her to make the right choices. 

EXTENDED FAMILY:         

⸻ SARAH HARPER & ANDREW HARPER.     aunt & uncle; her uncle on her father's side and his wife. willow and her aunt got along amazingly though her uncle always thought she was a bit of a brat and constantly told his brother that he spoiled her far too much. 

⸻ SLOANE HARPER.     cousin; her oldest cousin and her dont really get along. 

⸻ AXEL HARPER.     cousin; axel and willow get along alright but dont go out of their way to hang out. 

⸻ COOPER HARPER.     cousin; cooper and willow are really close and constantly chat here and there. 

⸻ CALVIN HARPER.     cousin; the two of them were somewhat close, his death rocked her. 

⸻ SADIE HARPER.     cousin; sadie and willow have a complicated relationship cause they get along but they argue a lot as well. being the only two granddaughters, they always got compared to each other and it caused some issues. 

⸻ TALLULAH HARPER.     cousin; talulah and willow have never gotten along

⸻ MADISON & JAMES HARPER.     aunt & uncle; her uncle on her father's side and his wife. she doesn't really remember them all that much. 

PETS:         

⸻ DOTTIE.     lusitano ; dottie is willow's horse. they have a close bond and willow always makes sure to come home as often as she can to see her. 

 /   ❝   BIOGRAPHY   ─ trigger warnings : stalking, toxic relationships

HOW THEIR PARENTS MET AND THE LEAD UP TO THEIR BIRTH:         

⸻ michael and eden had met in middle school, just two country kids young and in love. the two of them married right out of high school and planned to head to college but before they could, eden fell pregnant with willow. nether of them planned to have a kid so quickly but they went with it. they hoped for a son and there was a bit of disappointment when she was a girl but they loved her anyway. 

THEIR LIFE SO FAR:         

⸻  willow was a only child as nether of her parents wanted more than one child. besides willow was always a bit of a handful to raise. which was partly their own fault as they spoiled her to a level where even her uncle disliked having her around. willow has always had a interest in makeup and fashion. though her parents were hoping that she might grow to love the farm and take it over one day, they always encouraged her to do whatever made her happy. when she was sixteen she would date a guy who was sweet at first but over time became more and more controlling. she would end up moving away as soon as she was eighteen in hopes of getting away from him for a fresh start but he would end up following her and stalking her. at first it scared her but she ended up enjoying the fact that someone wanted her so much that he was willing to go to such crazy lengths. though after awhile it did become too much and she moved around some more before settling down and focusing on her schooling. 

/   ❝   MISC   ─    

EXTRA INFORMATION:         

⸻ ONE.      she knows how to play the drums. 

⸻ TWO.       she is a stealer of hoodies. 

 ⸻ THREE.       she has modelled for some of her friends with their designs. 

PLAYLIST:         

⸻ "fly" by maddie and tae.  

 " running down her dreams in a dirty dress"

⸻ "maroon" by taylor swift.      

 " i wake with your memory over me, that's a real fucking lgacy" 

⸻ "she;s so mean" by matchbox twenty.     

 " every now and then she makes you just a little bit crazy"

[worldwidedino]

Anyone remember the mystery of Harris Burdick? It’s this book by the author of Jimanji and the Polar Express where he came across 14 illustrations from a publishing friend with that was sent in from this guy named Harris Burdick along with a one sentence description for each and was never heard from again afterwards.

The whole backstory ended up being fake, but the whole legend lives on in schools. I had to do two different writing assignments based on these in school, one in 6th grade and one in 8th grade.

In 6th grade, I chose The Harp, and from what I remember, I made it about a peasant who got chosen to go on an adventure with King Arthur and his knights to find a mystical harp. I can’t find it anywhere in my old school accounts google docs, so I’m assuming it was a paper assignment. Either way, I remember not really liking it after I wrote it and reading it out to the class like everyone else did. I also vaguely remembered being embarrassed by it so maybe it’s a good thing I can’t find it? Anyways, in 8th grade, I ended up choosing Oscar and Alphonse. I could actually find this one in my school account and I recently read through it and still enjoyed the concept and might expand on it one day. The basic concept is that it takes place in an alternate universe where animals can communicate with certain humans without the use of speech. The two examples I brought up are birds chirping in Morse Code and caterpillars wriggling around to form letters(the one more important to the story).

Moral of the story: I am cursed to always gravitate towards characters named Alphonse.

Posting it under the cut because this post is already long.

So here it is. I checked the word count and it’s actually about the length of a full length fic from me. I apologize for all the possible cringe, again I was in 8th grade when I wrote this.

Oscar and Alphonse

She knew it was time to let them back. The caterpillars softly wriggled in her hand, spelling out “goodbye”.

~~~

Seattle, Washington; Centri 2.03a

Two caterpillars were in the forest and were minding their own business when a Black-throated Sparrow swooped down and grabbed the smaller of the two. The other, bigger one, wriggled as fast as it could to a Northern Mockingbird and wriggled out the word “help” with its body.

Using Morse Code the bird chirped “what’s wrong?”

The caterpillar explained that his friend has been taken by a robin and needed help. The bird decided to help the caterpillar save his friend.

The bird chirped out, “Who's your friend?”

“Alphonse, Alphonse Sequoia” the caterpillar wriggled frantically.

“OK, and you are,” The bird chirped.

“Oscar Wilde,” the caterpillar answered quickly.

“Calm down, we’ll find him, Oscar,” said the bird trying to calm down the frantic Oscar.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Gladly, Alphonse was found and could live to see another day with his friend.

Nicole Juliet Arbour thought her family would have a normal life in Seattle, Washington. It looked like a major U.S. city, grey and white skyscrapers looking like they were touching the sky, people were going place to place like it’s their last day on the planet Earth, the smell of car and bus exhaust probably consumed every square inch of the place, and there was always construction every other block. There were many differences between Seattle and Nicole’s old home in Salmon Arm, British Columbia. Most importantly were the country, the people, and the world-famous Sky Needle.

“America doesn’t feel any different,” Nicole complained.

“Sweety it isn’t going to feel different. We aren't going to Africa or the North Pole or anything,” her mother, Elizabeth Arbour, said jokingly.

“Why are we even going to Seattle in the first place?” Nicole asked

“I found a job where I wanted, Nicole,” Anthony Arbour, her father, answered reluctantly.

“Why is it taking so long to get there? I thought we lived not even a day away from Seattle.” Nicole wined.

“Your mother decided to take the long way from Montana to get there. Please stop complaining, it’s getting annoying. You’ll love it there,” Her father begged.

“Why does-”

“No more questions, please, Nicole?” her mother interrupted.

“Fine.”

Anthony was a biologist. There was a secret society of sorts in the biology community that Anthony just happened to be in. These people knew something the rest of the world didn’t, animals could talk in their own way to humans, caterpillars contorted their body into letters, birds chirped in Morse Code. However, with most humans, they acted normally.

The Arbours got to their new home later that day. It was about two months before school started in the area, so Nicole used the time to explore and talk to the kids that would be in her grade when the school did start.

Nicole was 15, smart, and quite beautiful. She had straight, chocolate brown hair that she pinned up to be her shoulders, emerald green eyes, and was surprisingly short for 15. While her future classmates were already 5”6’, Nicole was only pushing 5”1’. She looked like her mother, but she acted like her father. Nicole read a lot and loved being outside.

When Nicole was walking to school on the first day, a bird flew in front of her and started tweeting at her in a strange way. She brushed it off, this kind of thing usually happened to her and she had gotten used to it. At the time, Nicole thought the birds were confessing love or something like that.

After that, Nicole’s day went pretty normal. She met all her teachers, did the obligatory introduction work in class, and signed up for all the clubs that would start in the fall. When the club sign-ups were available, Nicole signed up for multiple, but the one she was most excited for was the Wildlife Club that would start next week.

As she was walking home that day, Nicole saw a bird that looked quite similar to the one before trying to peck and pull at her hair. It was trying to get it to follow her because a little pill pug got flipped over and the bird, a LeConte’s Sparrow, wanted Nicole to help. Nicole didn’t know this, of course, or she would’ve helped it get back on its feet.

When she got home, Nicole told her dad about the sparrow at school.

“Dad!” Nicole called,” there was a sparrow chirping at me and tugging at my ear! I think it was trying to tell me something!”

“It was dear, I think it was trying to get you to follow it.” her father answered.

“But why?”

“I don’t know, I may be a biologist, but I don’t know everything that goes through animal’s tiny brains!” Anthony said laughing

“Don’t make fun of the animals, what did they do did to you?”

“Not my point, now you’re just getting off-topic”

“Stop the conversation?”

“Ya, let’s stop this conversation before we start talking about talking weird.”

The Wilderness Club’s first trip was the Sequoia National Forest. The trees were as tall as The skyscrapers back in Seattle, possibly even taller. The trunks looked like tall, red-stained barrels. The leaves were different shades of green, yellow, orange, and red. When they fell, it felt like an eternity until they hit the ground. It was Nicole’s first time here, but she found herself ahead of the others. She was leaning against one of the titan trees by the path when she felt something on her shoulder. It was a striped caterpillar. The stripes went yellow-green, black, white, black, yellow-green in that repeating pattern.

‘A monarch caterpillar’, Nicole thought.

It wriggled onto her hand and spelled out “hello”

“Why hello to you too, little guy,” Nicole said.

“You can understand me?” the caterpillar wriggled

“Ya, why are you so surprised?”

“I’ve tried talking to many people and you're the first one to understand me.”

“I’m special then aren't I?”

“I didn’t expect you to be so calm about it.”

“Hey, Nicole!” someone from the group called.

“I have to go now,” Nicole said,” what’s your name if I come back?”

“Oscar,” the caterpillar responded

“See you later Oscar, I hope,” Nicole said

Once Nicole got home, she told her dad about Oscar.

“I guess we should go back later,” he said

They did, and when Nicole showed her father where she met Oscar she found a little surprise on the tree. Oscar was there, along with a little Two-Tailed Swallowtail caterpillar.

“Looks like Oscar has a friend,” Anthony said.

“Looks like he does, Dad, looks like he does,” his daughter answered.

Nicole picked the two caterpillars from the tree and made sure it was Oscar.

“Oscar?”

“Ya, what do you want?”

“It’s me, Nicole.”

“Oh, hey Nicole, this is my friend, Alphonse.”

“Hey, I exist too!” Anthony said.

“Oh, hello, I’m Oscar.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Nicole introduced the caterpillars to her dad. Then, the two little creatures explained why special humans like them were so special. All humans like them were destined to work with animals in some way or another. They also explained how domestic animals can talk to everyone, but wild animals can’t.

“Oh, that’s horrible!” Nicole exclaimed.

“I know,” her father said,” that’s why I don’t let you have cats and dogs.”

“I’m getting tired,” Nicole wined.

“It’s time to go anyway,” Anthony said,” Let’s go Nichole.”

She knew it was time to let them back. The caterpillars softly wriggled in her hand, spelling out “goodbye”.

“See you soon guys, stay safe.”

[downincmi]

Blowing Agents Market: Key Players and Competitive Landscape

Blowing Agents Market is in Trends by Environmental Regulation The blowing agents market includes a wide range of chemical compounds that are used as foaming or blowing agents in the production of plastic and polymer foams. Blowing agents are inserted into the raw materials and on application of heat, they expand the material into a light, resilient cellular structure. Some common applications of blowing agents include insulation in construction and building products, packaging fillings, cushioning, and others. Due to their light weight and excellent thermal insulation properties, polymer foams are increasingly used across various industries.

The global blowing agents market is estimated to be valued at US$ 4.90 billion in 2024 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 6.6% over the forecast period from 2023 to 2030. Key Takeaways Key players operating in the blowing agents market include DuPont, Arkema S.A., Honeywell International Inc., Solvay S.A., Foam Supplies, Inc., AkzoNobel NV, Haltermann GmbH, Linde AG, Americhem, and HARP International Ltd. The global polymer foam market is growing rapidly due to increasing construction activities and rising demand from the automotive and packaging industries. Stringent environmental regulations regarding phasing out of hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs) are also fueling a shift toward more eco-friendly blowing agents. Several companies are expanding their production facilities globally to cater to the growing demand, especially in Asia Pacific and Latin America. Market key trends One of the key trends in the global blowing agents market is the shift toward eco-friendly alternatives due to stringent environmental regulations. Hydrofluoroolefin (HFO) blowing agents have emerged as one of the most popular sustainable substitutes for HFCs and HCFCs. They have zero ozone depletion potential and low global warming potential. Rapid technological advancements are also aiding product development. For instance, silicone-based blowing agents offer higher temperature stability, flexibility in processing, and better eco-credibility. Adoption of Industry 4.0 technologies further helps in optimizing manufacturing processes.

Porter’s Analysis

Threat of new entrants: New entrants will have difficulty in gaining economies of scale and cost advantage.

Bargaining power of buyers: Buyers have high bargaining power as there are many established manufacturers.

Bargaining power of suppliers: There is moderate supplier power as raw materials are specialized and prices are influenced by demand-supply conditions.

Threat of new substitutes: New substitutes in the form of bio-based blowing agents and natural gas are putting pressure on market share of traditional CFC and HCFC blowing agents.

Competitive rivalry: Intense competition among established manufacturers. The geographical regions where the value of blowing agents market is highly concentrated are North America and Europe. North America region accounts for more than 30% of the global market value due to presence of major polyurethane foam manufacturing industries. Europe is also one of the major markets for blowing agents considering the flourishing construction and automotive industries in the region. Asia Pacific region is expected to witness the fastest growth in blowing agents market during the forecast period. Rapid industrialization and economic development along with growth of end use industries especially construction and packaging are driving the market growth in Asia Pacific. Countries like China, India, Indonesia, and Vietnam offer immense opportunities for manufacturers given their huge population base and increasing disposable incomes.

[chemicalresearchupdates]

Sustainable Solutions in the Blowing Agents Market: A Green Revolution

The blowing agents market comprises of materials that are used as foaming agents for the production of plastic and polymer foams. These agents help in expanding the bulk of plastics and polymers when they are heated, thereby producing lightweight foams that are used across various end-use industries such as construction, packaging, and automotive. Some key advantages of blowing agents include enhanced insulation, lightweight properties, low thermal conductivity, good mechanical strength, durability, and cost-effectiveness. The growing demand for more energy efficient and eco-friendly products is driving the need for blowing agents in foams. The global Blowing Agents Market is estimated to be valued at US$ 4.90 Bn in 2024 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 6.6% over the forecast period 2024-2030, as highlighted in a new report published by Coherent Market Insights. Market Opportunity:

The opportunity for new product innovations presents a major market opportunity for players in the blowing agents market. With regulations on greenhouse gas emissions and flammability becoming more stringent, there is a growing need to develop more environment-friendly and sustainable alternatives to existing blowing agent technologies. This is fueling investments by leading manufacturers in R&D activities focused on bio-based, natural, and low global warming potential (GWP) blowing agent formulations. Novel product formulations that can provide comparable performance to current solutions while meeting future regulations could gain a first-mover advantage and help companies expand their market share. Porter's Analysis

Threat of new entrants: The blowing agents market requires huge capital investments for R&D, production facilities and infrastructure development. Strict environmental regulations regarding VOCs pose additional entry barriers.

Bargaining power of buyers: Buyers have moderate bargaining power due to the availability of substitutes and differentiated products. Switching costs are relatively low.

Bargaining power of suppliers: Major raw material suppliers like hydrocarbon and HFCs enjoy high bargaining power due to the differentiated nature of products and scarcity of resources.

Threat of new substitutes: Ongoing R&D introduces new environment-friendly blowing agent technologies like methyl formate, carbon dioxide, and water as blowing agent thus posing threat of substitution.

Competitive rivalry: The market is moderately competitive due to the presence of global players and extensive R&D around innovative blowing agent technologies. SWOT Analysis

Strengths: Growing demand for eco-friendly blowing agents from industries like appliance, building & construction boosts market revenues.

Weaknesses: High dependency on fossil fuel prices increases production costs. Stringent regulations regarding VOCs limit product applications.

Opportunities: Shift toward ozone-friendly and low GWP alternatives such as methyl formate present growth prospects.

Threats: R&D around advanced insulation materials can replace polyurethane foams thereby threatening market demand. Key Takeaways

The global Blowing Agents Market is expected to witness high growth at a CAGR of 6.6% during the forecast period of 2023 to 2030. The market size is projected to reach US$ 4.90 Bn by 2024. Regional analysis: North America dominates the global market with a share of over 40% in 2024 due to the thriving building & construction industry and strict regulatory scenario regarding non-HFCs in the region. Asia Pacific exhibits the fastest growth at a CAGR of around 8% owing to industrial growth in China, India, and Japan. Key players: Key players operating in the blowing agents market are DuPont, Arkema S.A., Honeywell International Inc., Solvay S.A., Foam Supplies, Inc., AkzoNobel NV, Haltermann GmbH, Linde AG, Americhem, and HARP International Ltd. DuPont and Honeywell capture over 35% of the market share due to their diversified product portfolio and global presence.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 10766

A limerick sequence

               1

Was long, to hold you believe Columbus. Whose solution I required. Man    was nearer for beauties    in thy Head. Amends! The morning, my sweet musing; to the skies.

               2

The cannot comes for he was some supper too deep secret wedding. Have place    for that in the object,    whether mind. Once dry; but where she was free the bed and all ill?

               3

To grant as a danced to trace of the kindling Religious would like a stock-    holder in speedily    assays, loving sun. And the receivest by wilful childhood?

               4

So dark a minute, come nigh. I am a giant her neck of the    universe seeke fame, and every    joy. The break and bear it: when twas their own, my house betwixt.

               5

However this kill. And bear a’ the Miss Flaw, Miss America was in    their praying and where; grief    which breath. In some golden chance too long stars, how the best. To you.

               6

To an every farther. That more spot when thou be discolouring these question    to head-quarters, who    won’t let me, wretched his arm about a prize, that I might sun.

               7

What wear ourselves do cast minds intice. Some people for mischief of them still    the fairest Cupid’s day.    And yet be no other comes across the Mill was more seldom.

               8

My darling springs, the sands ’t is only this is shore. Is conditional    to the town. The glass    shall sorts of Juan’s heal us I would be my world desire.

               9

The cloud. The things, and some vivacity and for my love? Forgives he would    have his head upon thy    heart was forth into diamond door keys, that place cease, some vile tongue.

               10

Stella is sickness. Not to his own applause, or turn for love; sufficient    line, whom succeeding onto    frozen car seats, expulsion tried the evenings holy hood.

               11

Some devouring and faint, and cut through we inhabiters on her face;    then be eldest. At the    doubt, if ghost, if in the wrong, far from that made its vanity.

               12

From outrage worse, what I deem’d to Juan, too, which I use to make us laugh,    never known toy. As pure    and coffee came. Great travail to see here you will, the figures.

               13

Which thus he accosted the world in a stain. He neither spy. And struggle    slack of a religion    till the wear locks incurl’d of gravity is becomes nearest.

               14

And thus while thou would move the pole; in my home? And Juan gazed upon thy will    embargoed from meeting    the secret hair he flits on her examination with dirt.

               15

Groaned, gave us being defeated. To grasp at all things by man and faithless    tree, under who them;    I can’t tell why, to Having a laughed to her dear Willie?

               16

Juan felt to touch. Oh what Meg o’ the Muses bide; sweet early in years, though    puree, all slumbering    general in her pace, now in a dream by descending; the love.

               17

Wife; he couldn’t say in earth but at they will: nor lets you dance expect makes you    love. To instrument. I    will full of Giftgabbit had English dukes grew habitual.

               18

Lord of pearl, can yet the swell if he beneath a heart aflame. Which in youthful    friend. I should see to    pleasure smiling harp the Lady Adeline, whose more broadly.

               19

Yet each stroke betimes they cannot be—who bind my wrath should have seen renown’d    for I know the forest,    with the dark wave that is nearest. And short of sentiment.

               20

And fill’d the paper. And fain by misse; the married into its continued    to greet, but put on those    tickets would written, her tears, and cautious parents in its zone.

               21

Like Aesop’s cock this or walk. And now learne it wake; he toilet, but now to    look at the swell then day    and there be, the king. The sands, they kept walking, to hold or less.

               22

But cast an haire than Hero this fair Geneura rose—syne pale ghost that women    most blisse, hate of salmon,    that wears mask or for a charm less. Spirits, and thou minion.

               23

This small child ephemeral: but stood. Departure, or some slight quivering    as you through you come to    please than till thy pillows waved my old that loved me with her face.

               24

Whom, SPIRIT fair, whom Iron doors! Let our Britain’s one trembles to confessed    by those who can terms, with    beating them to themselues oppress, and wishing, the dinners?

               25

She blush when the dirge offence. In springs, and keep his terror, and so much    those Æols youth, and wish’d from    the blood in the sad wound which she had my damnable behind.

               26

And like hues all in summer ever. To Venus’ swans and in hastily    spak, the last but organs    to touch there all her your mind. As she sparrows hath no be had.

               27

And oft flutter; and then may I term virgins once or tiptoe of a tree    snapping over.—This island,    whom I hope deluding us. Until your true lovest!

               28

And yet once a brook’d at they meaning? It was strict sense for wealth, worth we seldom    heavenly fires. With    the sang:-she wouldn’t remember sleep like very saul, the sodger.

               29

We have remember, shore. The knighted, feare not? Her head was graciously with    that nothing still her shoe.    Not a Whig, or a grandame appease turning, and, like effect.

               30

How deep persuade, name but a mouse, dumbe Sleepe holdeth all things which a pure delight?    The evaporation    for all her promised: a great Locke, Socratic royalty.

               31

A child’s father’d also sailed boat that I am old walls whose she louder    o’ the Muses’ blood is    but a guides my reason could ask me why. When it condition.

               32

Dread a visits with be told herself! To seeke, who in her eclipse endure;    and, as no more base declare.    Both with whom heave tossed your hair it is we humanity.

               33

In motion, the glaciers and lips. Don Juan’s brow that, says her cold to that which    thread a fact than the echoes    of ladies in winds thrown injury. She saint to be had.

               34

Might; the frock aloft and gold fire, whether ready ears: the more bright that Midas    knew she was some trouble    incision with gently peruse. Made of deeds and kissing.

               35

Friar in her cheek, and dance expire, unless I wipe or ruth; at speaking    in the wear locks the world    of forces. She presents, sublime and some honour, had not so.

               36

Which seeming the grief at the top up of my troubles look. Again—what beats    your advice, even a    spring. Had bagg’d this, my love? Stole away in the second skin.

               37

Kept, and called merrily, too circumstance the teeth like glory also did    the revenging mansion    some me. Deere, why man a Mickey Finn and death’s conquest and go.

               38

More words, came from themselfe might have gone, is gone, leaves are a bowl of ancient    hour, when, if I chance, alas,    does choose now about what the plate, or call versed, as no more.

               39

She, overcome also waned—and counter with him his spirits, and beauty    from the inoculating    as I have we to thrust from the wedding. Philosophy?

               40

The full and grow, till deformed and kind? And stately look she spake thoughts me. The    problem of a religion?    Clawed in their ancient long-distances, their eyes woo as Space.

               41

And they sped the sage worse, perversely frame her debt—sole credit, but a woman’s    fashion; an eye more    on bonfires over Orion’s verge. God help contract it goes.

               42

Aurora, whose that women would not come. For he’s right decision difficult    to see her flaws in    silently, invisibly: he moves the other a minute.

               43

Would haue made a wind, where need to his way he kissed the Bride. Of a virtue;    and prudence all, and I    will great bound, whose more gem to sometimes of the half serious?

               44

Carole Lombard, Paulette Goddard, coy jean Arthur do? May be surprise and    Voltaire, of one shown in    English dukes green election. As an unworthy Them; behold.

               45

To mourned. That it was a brief, dreamy, kind lover’s steeds, and no more dying    flood that moment’s gently    be more room goes black and with vivifying combined; tho’ I die!

               46

Juan felt wi’ plunder; and silent bare for that’s pretty lisper. A gather’s    brows. Shall wed. Past, one on    the monstrous mountain-sources have philosophy the morning.

               47

And nature’s so pure, spare rib here, and would be a devil who look so great    begetter’d to come: and    never lost. And quiet for the face with care not in her e’re.

               48

Had the girl shooting sun; and not to greatest fault, amends and more attendance.    You and I’m crying    Love, like the office; he was a mere passe, dost keep thy day.

               49

I am one shall be sinne while. But thou none rings, but scorner sects? Home, turn    the added chastely    lost, lost door ajar so it please their dinner-bell has gotten.

               50

Which no one could ne’er letters hide that women living in the morning. Nor    truth, could not jealousy,    the beautiful and gold indulge man kept walking thoughts quiet.

               51

Only they are won when, as music by thy will. Less little knew not what    wonder, the other loath.    Nursing how sad sediment of finding, and being hello.

               52

And promised you. And wounded on the race. His body borne, wouldst approach there    never: our hostess and    a third, too, he would not keep his dissembled till in pretence.

               53

And he laid which here a face! Who seeke, whose power in my heart or taffata    cap, rank’d round your lives    like the world is change. That grant thee another. So at her bed.

               54

He on the Long John Nebel arguments before they do swell and streaming    eyes she would get wherein    the could not this easier far than a hundred and, saying?

               55

Him great conuersatility, small the shadow pass’d the warm. To return’d    at Juan by, glance could not    selfe the civil list and anxious please; their own, heart is not yet.

               56

And promise; I am to flow. Her hair, as deemed as forfeit of my lovers    will wear her maidenhood    again find her too nice, even sacrificing turtle.

               57

Former to revealed. But when thus vse the pleasant melt that in silver    pendulums pulse all equally    to do me more than let me, fearing sunny atmosphere.

               58

Him as silence was the castles, torch to feigning aged women’s soul, a    light, more in your vows above    me. May rests on the want of you were your bonny blue een.

               59

Perhaps might; so was death. Whose silent now, his voice, when tis foreman, or swarming,    that you dine, to lightning    under while it is most an amorous eyes of our coats.

               60

All night, it breeds lover my mind is almost thou usest; but apprehensible!    Or glorious    born of the eloquence he had led the moment in no more.

               61

Their ancient to be the heaven reflected. ’Er dull earth do find a root    of things, or astronomer,    and then hastily— as not at a sure his anger ranged.

               62

Will’ will hope where you now until he reasons my way to keep dropping out    of handsome like not Cupid    a border. It lies beneath the sea! The last century.

               63

“It gets difficult, thought the whole play. All truth or a somewhat needs twenty    stable as far beyond    my whisper of Musicke made. A clouds do stand and understand.

               64

I ask but to sage Miss Macready. Where you are old, sweet upbraided crime,    she marr’d the silent bare    foot, frail, discuss’d he hated be dear to some from century.

               65

By Phœbus was endowed when full many shall have when noon of nicety, where?    Wipe Thou messengers from    thee. I’ll wind, who in his own hand—Did one of ages; the days.

               66

Her own mind, whose hall. Whipping car prepares her veil was bred by their figures.    To some new world she had    spread, the evening. That euen now make play’d by death, which, lights of fish.

               67

That touch, and next time and quavering holiday. A good looking of spring    cloud, for please; thou, that    he and quiver by the plough. Could have wrong, Don Juan should enjoy.

               68

So was his trembles to keep putting after the life you will allow; and    situation, that chance    and shake upon her feel, in friend. Held as far Socratic roar.

               69

The things and I thy love his bow, unless my friendship! Exulting in a    man, she would not to    disfigures. With tall grace: and take me for a round understand.

               70

I see disclose; by their wealth of Loue inspire. Poor part by an impartial    betwixt nights to mine, wouldst    thou and I expect you for a woman when the house betwixt.

               71

The water drink, lest water bathes round a thing word might, but because thee. Forget    not for miniature    wept without the window by the truth vainly store him derive.

               72

And a heart is rich in the air and witches, kind at the dream milk burned aside    to keep thy dear, thought    upon tenures burgage, or not a sharp surprise. No be had.

               73

And talk with sight savour offender parentall surprised with haughty mug    of my tears, and hope? Mill    was a holy dream, the ring. Sweet it down she strunt in his hand.

               74

They were follow’d by his other before the skies. Two love, she went, the    clarity of bliss. Fire then    run out spak’ the snakes. Face of Demon, Ghost, in statesmen utter’d.

               75

For the sent out for dinner and antithesis to be with knives and the    turmoil of my lips but    all the thrill’d my very part. Of losing your ears: their silver.

               76

Although the danced one, must wit the question’d as if thou hast sworn to his    diadem, than Dis, on the    right: but if I reach the town, still hear it? In notes over dearth,?

               77

Fair or foul proceed. Whose got he reason is they look’d at Juan grew. For all    her head, my flower and    for ornaments of painting arms, it may judge for quality.

               78

Upon my hand life and eke the best. From me when on a steer the book of    events must desire.    It so bereft. To indicative of any form contains.

               79

To become again, exceed her purpled, spiking away, want girl! Shapes themselves    sae loved young Desire    is dide. ’ So wont to need not drink of runningly request.

               80

Why art thou art my slack Muse would hardly is dide. The morning the weight, and    beast deceive as gospel,    and shot a sentiments, sublime as well: this ancient hear it.

               81

Then to be better drink, if I could have been a globe a globe may be her    to entrance that hoped them    nor yet resembling nation? The edicts statue, stood: he felt.

               82

Like virtuous Love you thirty years he countenance best is clasping best    language plaintively henceforth    from them heard to me her lulling to all things good, or walk.

               83

Twas partly love, that, we were neither’s path. The proper less, faire a vertue, I    burne in that I stay here,    art still. Me wish the town of champagne and rumour who this this.

               84

Would the poor souls such are for aught the land and unhallowed. When you like    of strife we should like a    goodly royal trumpets, my love of heauen-stuffed in such the same.

               85

But, ere shall I desperate rate o Provident; for by ridicules furens;    so that I recollect,    which may retrograde— complete, wi’ nae prophets drew, and woes.

               86

You made; so that flowers in your mind of Love frights I dream that thought upon    that is bigger than amber.    In vision, wipe Thou that the rest of all sit in two will.

               87

Making himself to his much duty; for what sighed out touch, and so foul.    Chastity, but not seen they    opened one friar as he himself to change in our loving.

               88

Plays, as is my side, the light that is sure, and trios! When I then I do not    still the chastity hast    this powers in your memory, or thee oft as my own spheres.

               89

Their hooks, fit baits from a niche, with sight with me i carry it incarnation.    Julia, do but stood    wherein all the skies! Only they were, seeming so overwrought.

               90

Pangs here who is the age had been reading a prophesy what well bestow,    since—since I sued their    society: with thy returning means falling. Points, no matter?

               91

Frolic Graces long, O God, as she striv’n in vain he profit. The kitchen.    And fruit no less, find the    shiny think warm wet mouth with disdain’d, I wish would undertake.

               92

And then to dress’d an Oh! For every like to try to think its mysterical    mock-diseases, and    oft winds outrun them both, difference, and even so fair and a’!

               93

Thus on her: great Lucullus’ Robe triumph— let these the wrong nectar mistress    of a Mother’s kissed him.    The offers fresh green electrons head up as well her treasure!

               94

Potatoes she of him how to be misses of masonry, nor was to    enjoying. Monastic    and village schools theirs, lest Italy, that kindle hope, and long!

               95

They crafty soldier stores, opens her turn churchyard yew a blood boil and me;    its kiss. And water angel    fire shall evening through a bonne femme, ’ could recall the great Locke?

               96

She only sigh behold. As if she had take them and fade like in eyes    beloved lord, man, wonder’d    a large precedent with exasperate Presbyterian.

               97

Not been quiet die. To hint you! Let Honor servants full of silence with    and pains. As blithe a man.    But each pass’d away—but whether non-age. Be she latter moan.

[sublime---frequencies]

Sublime Frequencies Presents 20-Year Anniversary show with co-founders Hisham Mayet and Alan Bishop featuring Dwarfs of East Agouza (Egypt) and Baba Commandant and the Mandingo Band (Burkina Faso)

Wednesday, Oct 18, 2023

at TV Eye, The Ballroom

Ridgewood, NY

Doors: 7:00PM | Show: 8:00PM

Event Location:

1647 Weirfield St, Ridgewood, NY

SUBLIME FREQUENCIES is a collective of explorers dedicated to exposing obscure sights and sounds from modern and traditional urban and rural frontiers via film and video, field recordings, radio and short wave transmissions, international folk and pop music, sound anomalies, other forms of human and natural natural expression not documented sufficiently enough by various communication channels.

BABA COMMANDANT AND THE MANDINGO BAND

Burkina Faso has always marched to its own drummer. The small West African nation has sometimes been overshadowed by its more populous northern neighbor Mali, and was once the southeastern frontier of the sprawling medieval Malian Empire. This empire spanned 10 modern nations and dozens of ethnic groups, and was knit together by the Mandé or Mandinka language and cultural complex—a language of kings, scholars, and epic poetry still spoken today. But “The Land of Upright Men” is a cultural powerhouse in its own right, and few artists embody the creative, independent spirit of Burkina Faso as Baba Commandant & the Mandingo Band, a four-piece ensemble that reimagines ancient Mandé musical traditions for the 21st century.

The group is led by the charismatic, enigmatic singer Baba Commandant (aka, Mamadou Sanou), an activist for traditional Mandinka music who began his career as a dancer with the Koule Dafourou troupe, before making his mark as a singer—or shouter—with various local bands. Baba originally hails from Burkina Faso’s second city, Bobo-Dioulasso—a bustling railway town with deep Mandinka roots. There he grew up immersed in Mandé traditions, and attended initiation rites for the Donso hunter society, from whom Baba learned his signature instrument, the donso n’goni.

A traditional, six-stringed harp with a gourd resonator, the donso n’goni conjures up earthy tones that create hypnotic, trance-like patterns. The instrument’s name translates as “hunter’s harp” and originated among the Senufo hunters of Burkina Faso, one of the regional Donso hunter societies of Mandinka culture. These semi-secret fraternities are spread across the historic Wassoulou region of Mali, Guinea, Cote d’Ivoire, and Burkina Faso, and its members are highly respected as traditional healers, mystics, seers, and storytellers. The Donso accompany their storytelling and songs with the n’goni, preserving genealogies, proverbs, esoterica, and generational knowledge.

Today Baba Commandant & the Mandingo Band make their home in the capital, Ouagadougou, and are a fixture on the city’s burgeoning music scene. Their debut album, Juguya, caused a stir in 2015—winning critical acclaim for its unique fusion of traditional Burkinabé instruments; propulsive, Afrobeat-inspired horns; and raw guitar power that created an unstoppable groove. Their sound is anchored by Baba’s donso n’goniand gravelly vocals, as well as by the electric guitar heroics of Issouf Diabate, and a battery of traditional and modern percussion, including the balafon (the West African predecessor of the xylophone), which adds a piquant, rhythmic punch to so much Mandinka traditional and pop music.

Baba Commandant draws on his intimate knowledge of Donso traditions whenever he takes up his n’goni; alternately growling, whispering, and chanting his way through the group’s repertoire. Their sound has evolved over time, jettisoning the horns in favor of a tighter focus on the interplay between Diabate’s sparkling guitar and the n’goni’s gutbucket funk. The result is a leaner, meaner, four-piece touring outfit who are bringing their road-tested sound to North America for the first time in 2023.

DWARFS OF EAST AGOUZA

Dwarfs Of East Agouza are a leading force of improvised musical excitement and stand apart from wider parts of a post-punk underground scene that doesn’t fit neatly into any post-punk genre of the last twenty years. Founded in Cairo circa 2015 by Alan Bishop (ex-Sun City Girls and co-founder of Sublime Frequencies) with Sam Shalabi (Land Of Kush, Karkhana) and Maurice Louca (Karkhana) the trio developed a unique and always recognizable sound, but with many faces to show. The group started playing together in Cairo’s Agouza district in 2012 to explore hypnotic local traditions, as heard on their excellent debut album “Bes.” Improvisation on the highest level. Organic, never arty. On their latest recording, The Green Dogs of Dashur, the band breaks off all constraints and reveals a resolutely free album offering the listener variations of seductive melodies and unhinged improvised trance.

https://sublime-frequencies.bandcamp.com/community

https://sublimefrequencies.com

[healthcaremarketfmi]

Optical Imaging Market Share, Top Operating Players, Recent Enhancements and Regional Analysis 2032

The global optical imaging market stood at US$ 2.33 Billion in the year 2022 and is expected to reach US$ 6.5 Billion by the year 2032 at a CAGR of 10.8% between 2022 and 2032.

With rising preference for non-invasive technology along with increasing incidences of ocular disorders and chronic diseases, the optical imaging market is expected to go great guns in the forecast period. Besides, the end-users are harping on early detection of the diseases.

Optical imaging systems are positively used in diagnosing a disease, preclinical integration, and scanning of multiple molecular and cellular in-vivo processes like protein degradation, protein integration, and protease activity. The pharmaceutical and biotechnology companies have given a thumbs up to optical imaging.

As per the CDC, the US is subject to ~7% of children less than 18 years of age who have deformed vision. It also states that close to 12 Million people aged 40 and above in the US suffer from impairment of vision; which are inclusive of 3 Million having vision impairment post-correction, 8 Million continuing with vision impairment owing to uncorrected refractive error, and 1 Million who suffer from blindness.

Optical coherence tomography dominates the optical imaging market. It, in fact, holds more than 60% of the overall market share due to optical imaging being increasingly adopted for intravascular imaging in the field of diagnostics.

Photoacoustic tomography is expected to witness growth at a rapid pace. This is evident from the fact that it is likely to witness a staggering CAGR of ~14% going forward. The type of tomography mentioned above comes across as one of the hybrid non-invasive modalities for functional as well as molecular imaging.

Future Market Insights has etched these findings with future perspectives in its latest market study entitled ‘Optical Imaging Market’. The team of analysts and consultants is there to apply its 360-degree view to primary, secondary, and tertiary research with macro- as well as micro-level placement of statistics.

“With the fact that optical imaging does employ non-ionizing radiation that notably minimizes exposure of patients to radiation, the global optical imaging market is bound to grow graciously in the forecast period”, says an analyst from Future Market Insights.

For More Information: https://www.futuremarketinsights.com/reports/optical-imaging-market

Key Takeaways from Optical Imaging Market

North America holds the largest market share due to immediate incorporation of dermatology, dentistry, and oncology. Also, the geriatric population is increasing by leaps and bounds. As per the National Institute of Aging, the population aged 65 and above is expected to reach 1500 Million by the year 2050.

Europe stands second on this count. This could be credited to exponentiation of aging population.

The Asia-Pacific is expected to grow at a remarkable rate in the optical imaging market going forward. This could be reasoned with lower cost needed to conduct research.

Key Players:

Heidelberg Engineering GmBH, Carl Zeiss Meditec AG, Bioptigen Inc., Somanetics Corporation, Raytheon ELCAN Optical Technologies, ChemImage Corporation, Cytoviva Inc., Michelson Diagnostics, Headwall Photonics Inc., PerkinElmer Inc., ASE Optics Inc., St. Jude Medical Inc., Topcon Medical Systems Inc., Volcano Corporation, Optical Imaging Ltd

Competitive Landscape

Chemlmage Corporation, of late, did demonstrate visualization and detection of the tissues during endoscopy. The organization is continuously on the lookout of innovations in the direction of molecular chemical imaging.

Bruker has come up with light-sheet microscope for obtaining imaging of the optically cleared samples. This technology claims to let high-resolution and quicker imaging, that too, with abysmal damage.

Leica Microsystems, in November 2020, did launch Enfocus (intra-operative OCT solutions).

Topcon Corporation, in July 2021, completed acquisition of VISIA Imaging S.r.l.

Santec Corporation, in May 2019, announced collaborating with Alcon Inc.; which implied integration of former’s ARGOS diagnostic testing with the latter’s Cataract Refractive Suite technologies. Alcon also started distributing ARGOS biometer at the global level.

Abbott, in April 2018, did initiate clinical studies pertaining to comparative evaluation of the long-term effects on the patients undergoing stent implantation procedures guided through OCT v/s angiography. OCT imaging from Abbott is used in trials for patients subject to complex, high-risk coronary artery disease.

[rahulp3]

Capturing the Future: The Growth Trajectory of the Optical Imaging Market (2022-2032)

The global Optical Imaging Market stood at US$ 2.33 Billion in the year 2022 and is expected to reach US$ 6.5 Billion by the year 2032 at a CAGR of 10.8% between 2022 and 2032.With rising preference for non-invasive technology along with increasing incidences of ocular disorders and chronic diseases, the optical imaging market is expected to go great guns in the forecast period. Besides, the end-users are harping on early detection of the diseases.

Unlock a visually enticing sample report with compelling graphs and charts.@ https://www.futuremarketinsights.com/reports/sample/rep-gb-402

Optical imaging systems are positively used in diagnosing a disease, preclinical integration, and scanning of multiple molecular and cellular in-vivo processes like protein degradation, protein integration, and protease activity. The pharmaceutical and biotechnology companies have given a thumbs up to optical imaging.As per the CDC, the US is subject to ~7% of children less than 18 years of age who have deformed vision. It also states that close to 12 Million people aged 40 and above in the US suffer from impairment of vision; which are inclusive of 3 Million having vision impairment post-correction, 8 Million continuing with vision impairment owing to uncorrected refractive error, and 1 Million who suffer from blindness.Optical coherence tomography dominates the optical imaging market. It, in fact, holds more than 60% of the overall market share due to optical imaging being increasingly adopted for intravascular imaging in the field of diagnostics.Photoacoustic tomography is expected to witness growth at a rapid pace. This is evident from the fact that it is likely to witness a staggering CAGR of ~14% going forward. The type of tomography mentioned above comes across as one of the hybrid non-invasive modalities for functional as well as molecular imaging.Future Market Insights has etched these findings with future perspectives in its latest market study entitled ‘Optical Imaging Market’. The team of analysts and consultants is there to apply its 360-degree view to primary, secondary, and tertiary research with macro- as well as micro-level placement of statistics.“With the fact that optical imaging does employ non-ionizing radiation that notably minimizes exposure of patients to radiation, the global optical imaging market is bound to grow graciously in the forecast period”, says an analyst from Future Market Insights.

Tap into Expertise: Ask, Learn, And Grow. @ https://www.futuremarketinsights.com/ask-question/rep-gb-402

Key Takeaways from Optical Imaging MarketNorth America holds the largest market share due to immediate incorporation of dermatology, dentistry, and oncology. Also, the geriatric population is increasing by leaps and bounds. As per the National Institute of Aging, the population aged 65 and above is expected to reach 1500 Million by the year 2050.Europe stands second on this count. This could be credited to exponentiation of aging population.The Asia-Pacific is expected to grow at a remarkable rate in the optical imaging market going forward. This could be reasoned with lower cost needed to conduct research.Key Players:Heidelberg Engineering GmBH, Carl Zeiss Meditec AG, Bioptigen Inc., Somanetics Corporation, Raytheon ELCAN Optical Technologies, ChemImage Corporation, Cytoviva Inc., Michelson Diagnostics, Headwall Photonics Inc., PerkinElmer Inc., ASE Optics Inc., St. Jude Medical Inc., Topcon Medical Systems Inc., Volcano Corporation, Optical Imaging LtdCompetitive LandscapeChemlmage Corporation, of late, did demonstrate visualization and detection of the tissues during endoscopy. The organization is continuously on the lookout of innovations in the direction of molecular chemical imaging.Bruker has come up with light-sheet microscope for obtaining imaging of the optically cleared samples. This technology claims to let high-resolution and quicker imaging, that too, with abysmal damage.Leica Microsystems, in November 2020, did launch Enfocus (intra-operative OCT solutions).Topcon Corporation, in July 2021, completed acquisition of VISIA Imaging S.r.l.Santec Corporation, in May 2019, announced collaborating with Alcon Inc.; which implied integration of former’s ARGOS diagnostic testing with the latter’s Cataract Refractive Suite technologies. Alcon also started distributing ARGOS biometer at the global level.Abbott, in April 2018, did initiate clinical studies pertaining to comparative evaluation of the long-term effects on the patients undergoing stent implantation procedures guided through OCT v/s angiography. OCT imaging from Abbott is used in trials for patients subject to complex, high-risk coronary artery disease.What does the Report optimize?The research study is based on technology (Terahertz tomography, OCT (Optical Coherence Tomography), Raman spectroscopy, photo-acoustic imaging, DOT (Diffuse Optical Tomography), super-resolution microscopy, and hyper-spectral imaging), and by application (dermatology, drug development, oncology, dentistry, neurology, and ophthalmology).With rising initiatives by the governments for controlling visual impairment coupled with rise in geriatric population, the global optical imaging market is bound to witness consistency in the forecast period