#up in the clouds 1965

[inmyworldblr]

Nirjan Saikate (1963) // Akash Kusum (1965) // film poster comparison

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Nirjan Saikate (The Desolate Beach) - dir, Tapan Sinha

Akash Kusum (Up in the Clouds) - dir. Mrinal Sen

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[sleepyconfusedpotato]

I don't know if you ever received this ask or had this idea before but here goes nothing Since Ghost already met Jade's family, what if she meets his? ....angst material. Sorry not sorry.

Oh my God... Anon... You sparked something in me, and I cannot go to sleep now without posting this. Thank you so much for the idea.

(I think I'm gonna make a full on comic out of this, and I will make an art at some point for this fic, but let's use this lovely GIF of Ghost first)

She's The One

Jade meets Ghost's family.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC) Word Count : ~ 1.8k words Warning : Medium to heavy angst and mentions of death, but ends with a full on fluff because you know me mate I want Ghost to be happy ok.

Title and story inspired by the song 'She's The One' by Robbie Williams

"...How's your family, Simon?" 

Jade asked Ghost. They had been having a small outing, which included watching the cinema together and going around the streetside shops to find new wardrobes for Ghost to wear. He initially thought that it was unnecessary, but as Jade insisted, he went anyway – as long as he could spend his off-duty time with her.  

He'd met her parents, and though he was apprehensive about it at first, they turned out to be pleasant and strong people. It was such an unfamiliar feeling for him, to have a family to come home to, a supportive family and kind and can take care of their own. He's foreign to that concept.

Ghost just stayed silent to her question, his expression which was usually unreadable turned sorrowful, his eyes gazing down at the pavements they walked. She thought she should change the subject before Ghost muttered,

"You want to see them now?" 

Jade opened her eyes wide in surprise, not expecting him to say anything about meeting his family this fast, and the way he said 'now'...

The woman knew Ghost wouldn't ask her that question if he was adamant as he was a straightforward person. And so, she answered, "Of course, if you don't mind it." He then proceeded to enter his car that was parked not far from where they just watched a movie in a cinema, not forgetting to open the passenger door for Jade beforehand. 

They drove for a full 30 minutes of silence, save for the sound soft songs on the radio. As Ghost drove, Jade looked out the window and understood that they were going to a familiar place that she had passed by a few times in her life. He drove to the nearest available parking area, parking his car flawlessly before stopping the car engine, leaving the both of them in complete silence. 

Jade felt the atmosphere around him grow heavy, his hands still on the steering wheel as if he was still pondering whether or not he wanted to get out of the car. He let out a soft sigh, took his keys and got out of the car. Jade got out of her own and looked at the surrounding area.

Cemetery.

The sun had disappeared behind the heavy grey clouds that constantly covered the England skies. Tiny drops of water had touched her cheek, in such a way it reflected Ghost's inner thoughts right now. 

The man looked at her, "Over here." He walked with Jade following right behind him. After about 10 minutes of walking and treading through the tall grasses, Ghost stopped in front of a group of gravestones, four of them, which were placed more tightly together than the other. The grasses were tidily short, a sign that the keepers attended to these graves properly.

Jade then looked down, reading the engravings on the stones, and her heart shattered to pieces.

"Susan Riley, November 17th, 1965 - December 24th, 2017"

"Thomas Riley, July 21st, 1990 - December 24th, 2017"

"Elizabeth Riley, May 8th, 1991 - December 24th, 2017"

"Joseph Riley, March 19th, 2013 - December 24th, 2017"

It was his mother's birthday. 

She looked up to find Ghost's eyes gazing down at the names as well, noticing that the ground he was standing on was right at the front of his mother's grave. No tears in sight, only sadness, and as an MI6 agent of two decades, she could deduce an expression of regret. Jade didn't need to wonder why, as the dates of their deaths were all the same - the reason he hid his identity, lived as no one, avoided any relationship with anyone, and the reason why he was adamant about meeting her parents – His past came to haunt, and it's target was not him. 

Jade couldn't say anything. What could she say? That she's sorry this happened? She knew Ghost hated that phrase the most, of someone pitying him, that they wished things could be different. But what use is it to wish? It happened. His entire family died because something happened during one of his missions, and his family paid the price for it.

As if on cue, she heard a small sniff from him the same second the raindrops started to grow more frequent, falling harder, creating white noises and wet spots on their clothes. Being the Londoner she was, knowing that sunny days were never really sunny, Jade fished out her floral purple umbrella, holding it above Ghost's head beside her, making sure to cover his broad shoulders fully as her left shoulder grew wet. 

She saw his face, and it was enough reason to stay silent and let him grieve. She didn't know if this was the first time he'd visited their graves after years or if he always come here at some time every year, but no matter which one the answer was, if she could see one thing, it was that his tears never seemed to run out, even after years.

Jade let him cry, the sound of his sobs completely drowned by the white noises of the heavy rain. 

She knew that he wasn't a big fan of any physical touch, nonetheless, she lifted her other hand softly and rubbed at his back, going up and down in an attempt to soothe his sorrow. And after a minute of him not flinching away from her touch, Jade mustered up her will to slowly encircle her arm around his own on his side, their sides touching as she rubbed his bicep, and going even further as she leaned her head to touch his shoulder. 

Ghost's shoulder still shook for a few minutes as he cried his heart out, Jade kept doing what she did as he let his sorrow out. 

Soon after, another surprise hit her when she heard and saw that the rain started to slow down, albeit still going down on both of them. Her other arm started to grow sore after moments of holding the umbrella high to accommodate his height, yet what alleviated the pain was the fact that she felt a small weight on her head, realizing that Ghost had eased his cries, now only soft sniffs, and that he leaned his head on top of hers as well.

He still stayed silent, not a word spoken ever since they arrived, but she knew that this was a good sign that he knew that she would be there for him, even when he was vulnerable.

"Happy birthday, Mrs. Riley." 

Jade muttered softly, the man beside her still looking down on his mother's grave even though he was slightly dazed at her words. 

"This is our first meeting, but I can tell that you were a kind person, and an even more amazing mother and grandmother."

He then glanced at Jade as she continued, "Your son is a very skilled and intelligent man, traits which I assume he got from you. He's confident, a great leader-- oh! And he's handsome as well, so that's a plus." 

That prompted a scoff out of his mouth. Nevertheless, she went on. "He's not much of a social person. He's a little bit intense and stiff - We can work on that. He shot my hand once! I have the scar to prove it. His choices of words are sometimes foul, though, again, we could always work on that." Jade joked lightheartedly, seeing him softly smile above her.

"But if there's one thing about him that I love, is that he's a strong man with a warm heart, and I don't have to assume to know that he got it from you." Jade continued. "Your son is the strongest man I know, and I will stop at nothing to protect him and make him happy."

Ghost looked down at her, astounded at her words. "Thank you for bringing him into this world. Happy birthday, Mrs. Riley." 

As she finished her message, Jade looked up with a soft smile, "I'll be sure to bring some flowers the next time we visit, and every year after that." 

She thought he was going to say something, until the arm that was intertwined with hers moved, though nervously, gliding across her back and found its home on Jade's shoulder, before lightly pressing and pulling her towards him. Jade blushed, not only at the warmth of his body but also at the fact that he initiated the touch. 

"Thank you, Lottie." He muttered in his deep voice, "So much." 

"Anytime, Love." 

After about 15 minutes of standing in front of the graves, the rain had stopped, and the sun showed up to light the rest of the day as the sky turned orange. Jade had stored the wet umbrella back in its container and hung it on her wrist before she walked back to the car per his request. Jade figured he wanted some alone time with his family, and so she obliged.

"How's she, Mum? She's a beautiful bird, isn't she?" 

Ghost finally spoke, his hands tucked inside his pockets. He then glanced at his brother's grave, smirking. "What about you, Tommy? You think she's the one?" He asked no one, not expecting any answer anyway, yet he just wanted to let it out.

"I thought I'm gonna bite the dust on some fucking rathole somewhere, and that was what I wished at some point, but..." Ghost sighed, shifting his weight on his hip, "I kind of want to die an old man, after living my life to the fullest with her-- Fuck, I can't believe I'm saying this." Ghost chuckled at his own words, not expecting it to be this heartfelt. "I'm arse over tit for her. Yeah, you're gonna laugh at me for this Tommy, but at least I didn't laugh when you said the same thing about Beth." 

"And Mum, knowing you, I think you'd like her. She's a bit like you, in a way." Ghost confessed, still eyeing her name on her gravestone, "She cares too much. In a good way, and I find it endearing." He suddenly recalled the memories he had with Jade, from the first moment they met to this moment, replaying them over and over and being surprised about how much she reminded him of his mother. 

"I want to protect her with all my life. I love her, Mum."

And with that, a burden on his shoulders felt like no more. He'd never said those words to anyone, and he might be insane to be in love with someone considering how he'd lived his life, but he'd made a promise to protect her, and if he'd be a fool, then a fool he would become.

"Anyway, she's waiting back there, and I'm hungry. So I'm going to leave you now." Ghost then stood up straight, his hands still in his pockets. He glanced at every single one of the gravestones, before looking at his mother's.

"Happy birthday, Mum." 

-----

(All of the Riley's birthdays are entirely made-up. Their date of death was also made up, but I remembered there were something with Christmas, so I'll just place December 24th to make my heart hurt more) ಥ_ಥ

Anyway, thank you for reading, and hope you love this! (❁´◡`❁)

[muzaktomyears]

I never turned on the tape recorder, but I do remember my talk with Brian Epstein [in August 1965] vividly and without question. (...) Epstein was candid about his feelings for the Beatles, especially for Lennon, who he described as a "genius with genius problems." He was especially concerned that John's growing political activism might divert attention from the main event - the men and their music. He felt like a father to John, whom he described as overly petulant and difficult to manage. As the conversation progressed, I realized that I was serving as a depository for some pent-up, constrained feelings. I listened intently as he expressed concern that he was losing his grip on John and maybe the whole group and described his fear that, without his presence, the Beatles' unity would divide into four separate camps. His words would be prophetic, but he didn't imagine that his own death would be a catalyst in realizing those predictions. I was surprised as Epstein described a growing paranoia. He looked pained when he described an awareness of the boys talking behind his back. He assumed that they were laughing at him. I told him I had never heard or seen anything like that. I could imagine that happening, but I was hardly an expert on their private behavior and of course didn't make any guesses with him. I decided to shift the course of conversation, hoping to get him to lighten up. "Tell me about Liverpool," I asked. He described a decent childhood, work in the family store, and the exhilaration of seeing the Beatles perform for the first time. And then, much to my astonishment, he addressed a subject close to my heart - anti-Semitism. This scourge was commonplace in industrial Liverpool in the forties and fifties, he said, creating a cloud of resentment that he unmistakably felt, even around entertainers. "Are the Beatles anti-Semitic?" I inquired. "I don't think so," he said. "But it was always around them, so it may be in them." I never told him about the incident on the plane in 1964.

Ticket to Ride: Inside the Beatles’ 1964 Tour That Changed the World, Larry Kane (2003)

[usafphantom2]

The A-12 pilot who while looking for a crashed F-105 in Utah came across a brothel with a runway (A C-7A Caribou was the largest aircraft to ever land there)

The Oxcart

In 1959, Lockheed began work on the design of a long-range, high-altitude plane, then known as the A-11. It was a Cold War project. Heading the project team was Clarence “Kelly” Johnson, Lockheed’s Vice President for Advanced Development Projects. Johnson had previously led the development of the U-2 spy plane. Five years after work began on the A-11, on Feb. 29, 1964, President Lyndon Johnson told reporters that the aircraft (by that time modified to the A-12 Oxcart production version with a reduced radar cross section) had attained speeds of over 2,000 mph and altitudes of more than 70,000 feet in tests at Edwards Air Force Base (AFB).

CLICK HERE to see The Aviation Geek Club contributor Linda Sheffield’s T-shirt designs! Linda has a personal relationship with the SR-71 because her father Butch Sheffield flew the Blackbird from test flight in 1965 until 1973. Butch’s Granddaughter’s Lisa Burroughs and Susan Miller are graphic designers. They designed most of the merchandise that is for sale on Threadless. A percentage of the profits go to Flight Test Museum at Edwards Air Force Base. This nonprofit charity is personal to the Sheffield family because they are raising money to house SR-71, #955. This was the first Blackbird that Butch Sheffield flew on Oct. 4, 1965.

Noteworthy, according to Col. Richard H. Graham’s book The Complete Book of the SR-71 Blackbird: The Illustrated Profile of Every Aircraft, Crew, and Breakthrough of the World’s Fastest Stealth Jet, during the first three years of pre-operational testing, three A-12s crashed – two from mechanical malfunctions and one because of ground crew error. All pilots ejected safely.

The A-12 crash in Utah and the F-105 crash cover story

On May 24, 1963, A-12 number 926 involved in a subsonic engine test flight and piloted by Ken Collins, crashed fourteen miles south of Wendover, Utah. While testing an inertial navigation system, Collins flew into heavy clouds above thirty thousand feet and began noticing erroneous and confusing airspeed and altitude readings just before the A-12 pitched up, stalled, and went into an inverted spin. Unable to regain control, he ejected at around twenty-five thousand feet and was unhurt. A press cover story referred to the crashed aircraft as being a Republic F-105.

It was first thought that it was a pilot error but later confirmed that it was an inadequate pitot tube design that had caused the air data computer to fail.

Because his sortie was low altitude, Collins was not in his pressure suit, so it added to the credence that the crash was an F-105.

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. SR-71A Blackbird 61-7972 “Skunkworks”

‘With an ironic twist of faith sometime after the loss of Article 123, an F-105 from Nellis was lost and members of the Oxcart (code word of A-12) program were involved in the search for the crash site,’ A-12 pilot Frank Murray recalls in Paul Crickmore‘s latest book “Lockheed Blackbird Beyond the Secret Missions.

A-12 pilot searching for crashed F-105

Frank Murray and Dr. Roger Anderson were airborne in a Cessna searching for the crashed F-105 when they located the crash near a small lake with the adjoining property of one of the brothels in the area known as Ash Meadow Ranch. The brothel provided a small dirt runway graded out to allow its customers the option of air travel into the facility.

‘We taxied into Ash Meadow Ranch and we explained that we were here looking for the crash site and we had located it,’ Murray explains.

‘By then it was lunchtime and the Madame got the cook to rustle up some lunch. There was some polite conversation with the Madame and my aviation curiosity got the better of me.

Brothel with landing strip

The A-12 pilot who while looking for a crashed F-105 in Utah came across a brothel with a runway (A C-7A Caribou was the largest aircraft to ever land there)

C-7A Caribou

‘I asked her what was the largest aircraft ever to use the landing strip.

‘She replied the largest was an Army C- 7A Caribou full of GIs from an army base in California! ‘Mind you” she added mischievously they weren’t looking for any downed airplanes!’

Murray concludes;

‘After lunch, the three of us said our goodbyes and departed for our lives back at our Ranch [“Groom Lake,” “The Ranch,” “Area 51,” and “Dreamland” are all names that have been associated with the Groom Lake facility in the Nevada desert]. ‘

I had heard when I was a girl growing up in California that brothels were legal in Nevada. These kinds of rumors were hard for me to believe, but I believe them now!

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Twitter X Page Habubrats SR-71, Instagram Page SR71Habubrats and Facebook Page Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder Habubrats for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

@Habubrats71 via X

[spinomusic]

The madness called PINK FLOYD

The history of Pink Floyd is one of the most iconic in rock and world music. The British band was formed in London in 1965 and is known for its musical, visual and lyrical innovations. The history of Pink Floyd is marked by periods of great success, but also by internal conflicts and line-up changes. Here is a summary of this trajectory:

Formation and Early Years (1965-1967)

Pink Floyd was initially formed by Syd Barrett (guitar and vocals), Roger Waters (bass), Richard Wright (keyboards) and Nick Mason (drums). They started out playing in small clubs in London, with a psychedelic sound influenced by the music scene of the time. The name "Pink Floyd" was inspired by the names of bluesmen Pink Anderson and Floyd Council.

In 1967, the band released their first album, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, which is a landmark in psychedelic rock. The album featured compositions by Syd Barrett, who had an eccentric personality and unique creative visions. However, his mental health began to deteriorate due to drug use and personal issues, which led to his departure from the band in 1968.

The Post-Barrett Era and Early Success (1968–1973)

Following the departure of Syd Barrett, Pink Floyd went through a period of adjustment. David Gilmour was recruited to replace Barrett on guitar and vocals. The band's sound evolved into something more experimental and cohesive. In 1968, Pink Floyd released A Saucerful of Secrets, which reflected this new phase.

In the following years, the band began to explore deeper themes, such as alienation, war and the human condition. Albums such as Meddle (1971) and Obscured by Clouds (1972) began to show the progressive and conceptual style that would make Pink Floyd famous. However, it was with The Dark Side of the Moon (1973) that the band achieved enormous commercial and artistic success. This album, considered a masterpiece, explored themes such as madness, time and death, and became one of the best-selling albums of all time.

The Heyday and the First Tensions (1975-1981)

In the following years, Pink Floyd continued to expand their sound and artistic ambitions. Wish You Were Here (1975) was inspired by Syd Barrett and his departure from the band, and is considered another of the band's greatest albums. Animals (1977) presented a more critical approach, with metaphors about the social and political system.

However, during the recording of The Wall (1979), internal tensions between the members increased. The idea of the album, conceived mainly by Roger Waters, was to tell the story of a character named Pink, who builds a metaphorical wall around himself, isolating himself from the world. The Wall became a cultural phenomenon, with iconic tracks such as "Another Brick in the Wall" and "Comfortably Numb". However, disputes between Waters and the other band members, especially Gilmour, were growing.

The Split and the End of the Classic Era (1982–1994)

The height of tensions led to Roger Waters leaving Pink Floyd in 1985. This left the future of the band uncertain. However, David Gilmour took over the reins of the band, and with Nick Mason and Richard Wright (who had been fired by Waters but was reinstated after his departure), Pink Floyd continued to release albums. The first post-Waters album was A Momentary Lapse of Reason (1987), which continued the band's progressive style but with a more 1980s rock-oriented sound.

In 1994, Pink Floyd released The Division Bell, which was also a great success, but tensions between the band members were evident. This album marked the last studio recording with the Gilmour, Mason and Wright lineup.

The Return and Legacy (1994–Present)

Although internal infighting has persisted, Pink Floyd has always maintained its huge fan base. In 2005, the members of the classic lineup reunited for a historic show at Live 8 in London, a moment of great emotion and nostalgia. However, since then, the band has not reunited to tour or record new albums. In 2014, Richard Wright passed away, effectively ending any possibility of new projects from the classic lineup.

Today, Pink Floyd is remembered not only for its groundbreaking music, but also for the cultural and philosophical impact of its albums, especially The Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here and The Wall. The band has left a lasting legacy as one of the most influential bands in rock, both musically and in its artistic and conceptual approach.

Although surviving members, such as Gilmour, have gone on to pursue solo careers, Pink Floyd remains a fundamental part of rock history. The band's impact is still felt today, with their music being widely revered and their messages timeless.

listen on Spotify

https://open.spotify.com/artist/0k17h0D3J5VfsdmQ1iZtE9?si=9ud6evLxSpiv9T0k1KotXQ

[sepdet]

Holy fuck y'all

Flickr account: NASA on the Commons

I haven't seen some of these photos in decades, and some I've never seen, and anyways

Crew of shuttle Atlantis playing peekaboo with crew of old Russian space station Mir (RIP) Nov 24, 1995

Q: why do most space photos showing spacecraft have no stars?

Discovery's maneuvering thrusters angled for pitch up, main engines at low burn, July 6, 2006

Discovery pulling in to dock with ISS, July 6, 2006

Endeavour departs ISS, March 24, 2008— note how bright the shadows are from the sun-glare off clouds.

Discovery over Southwest coast of Morocco as ISS and Discovery bid farewell and take photos of one another for final time on March 7, 2011.

Hint: Is it day or night in these photos?

Astronaut Charles M. Duke drilling, photographed by John W. Young (Hey, he flew on the first space shuttle!) April 21, 1972.

Pilot Harrison Schmidt bagging what they hope is a lava sample, Apollo 17, Dec 13, 1972.

International Space Station taken by Discovery undocking March 25, 2009.

Stars don't show in most photos of spacecraft because sunlight illuminates surfaces far more brightly than distant stars shine. In fact, sunlight in Earth's orbit is brighter in space, since air scatters enough light rays to turn their wavelength blue.

Columbia 😭 liftoff STS-50, June 25, 1992. Gods I miss ya, little sister.

But the sun covers less sky (or, to put it another way, the photons it emits kerp spreading out over an increasingly large sphere of space) for Mars and the outer planets, so its light is dimmer, until it's just another star.

Enhanced contrast version of first image of another planet, Mars by Mariner 3, July 15, 1965. 6 years before you were born doesn't feel that long ago... does it? Does it? How dare it start feeling that way to me! ;)

There's so many more amazing images on that channel, including planets/moons. Go look. Cool stuff.

[lovingsylvia]

The Swarm

Somebody is shooting at something in our town--- A dull pom, pom in the Sunday street. Jealousy can open the blood, It can make black roses. What are the shooting at?

It is you the knives are out for At Waterloo, Waterloo, Napoleon, The hump of Elba on your short back, And the snow, marshalling its brilliant cutlery Mass after mass, saying Shh,

Shh. These are chess people you play with, Still figures of ivory. The mud squirms with throats, Stepping stones for French bootsoles. The gilt and pink domes of Russia melt and float off

In the furnace of greed. Clouds! Clouds! So the swarm balls and deserts Seventy feet up, in a black pine tree. It must be shot down. Pom! Pom! So dumb it thinks bullets are thunder.

It thinks they are the voice of God Condoning the beak, the claw, the grin of the dog Yellow-haunched, a pack dog, Grinning over its bone of ivory Like the pack, the pack, like everybody.

The bees have got so far. Seventy feet high. Russia, Poland and Germany. The mild hills, the same old magenta Fields shrunk to a penny Spun into a river, the river crossed.

The bees argue, in their black ball, A flying hedgehog, all prickles. The man with grey hands stands under the honeycomb Of their dream, the hived station Where trains, faithful to their steel arcs,

Leave and arrive, and there is no end to the country. Pom, pom! They fall Dismembered, to a tod of ivy. So much for the chariots, the outriders, the Grand Army! A red tatter, Napoleon!

The last badge of victory. The swarm is knocked into a cocked straw hat. Elba, Elba, bleb on the sea! The white busts of marshals, admirals, generals Worming themselves into niches.

How instructive this is! The dumb, banded bodies Walking the plank draped with Mother France's upholstery Into a new mausoleum, An ivory palace, a crotch pine.

The man with grey hands smiles--- The smile of a man of business, intensely practical. They are not hands at all But asbestos receptacles. Pom, pom! 'They would have killed me.'

Stings big as drawing pins! It seems bees have a notion of honor, A black intractable mind. Napoleon is pleased, he is pleased with everything. O Europe. O ton of honey.

--Sylvia Plath, written 7 October 1962, in Ariel (1965)

[morbidology]

It was the 9th of October, 1965, and 14-year-old Elsie Frost and was spending the afternoon at Snapethorpe School’s Sailing Club in Lupset, Wakefield, with her friends. At around 4PM, Elsie left to walk the short distance home. Typically, she would walk home with friends but on this afternoon, she wanted to avoid the canal towpath. She had just got a new pair of shoes and knew that route would be muddy due to earlier rain.

As Elsie was walking through the tunnel below the railway line at Horbury, she was savagely attacked. She was stabbed in the head, hand, and back. The stab wound to her back pieced her heart. Due to the stab wound on her hand, it was evident that the teenager had attempted to defend herself against the frenzied attack. Unfortunately, it was unfruitful and she died due to shock and blood loss.

A manhunt for the killer was underway immediately. It became the largest manhunt that Wakefild would ever see, with the army even becoming involved. A couple of months after the shocking murder, 33-year-old Ian Bernard Spencer was declared to be guilty by the coroner. He was innocent, he professed, and this claim was corroborated by family members who said they were at home with Ian that afternoon. Ian was eventually acquitted of the murder but always remained under a cloud of suspicion. Police would frequently show up to his home whenever a murder took place in the area and Ian took to writing his daily activities down in a book.

One of the main theories is that Elsie stumbled across two men engaging in homosexual activities, which was illegal in Britain at the time. Another theory is that Elsie had a secret boyfriend who may have been involved. In 2016, an 78-year-old Peter Pickering was arrested in connection with Elsie’s murder. He was bailed out of jail and then re-arrested again in March or 2017. The case still remains unsolved. Elsie’s parents both went to the grave without knowing who killed their daughter or why.

[a-froger-epic]

1965 - What a year for Roger!

(In which I invite you to write fic about that time Roger's official girlfriend possibly tried to beat up his unofficial girlfriend. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

January - Roger joins "Johnny Quale and the Reactions". He is fifteen, about two years younger than his band mates. (Source: Queen in Cornwall)

February - Roger starts dating Eileen Wright after meeting her at a Reaction concert in Falmouth. She recalls their relationship as quite chaste, and him as a "very gentle person" and not "a raunchy bloke". (Source: Queen - The Early Years). It must be true, because Roger remembers that his first proper kiss happened only with the next girl he started dating, Jill. (Source)

Aww, you might think, that doesn't sound like the ladies' man Roger the fandom knows and loves! Is it all just rumours? Er, well... read on.

March - Johnny Quale and the Reactions come fourth in the Rock and Rhythm championship of Cornwall. Roger is voted Best Musician. (Source) Which I think is actually really impressive for the youngest member of a group and the drummer, at that. Bet he did some impressive singing while drumming.

May - Roger meets Jill Johnson at a concert. She's a singer with a folk band and a year younger than him (which makes her fourteen). "Roger was sitting next to us in the back row and we left together. It was that night, or the next, that he took me to the local funfair [...]. And I believe the next night I went to one of his gigs with him. From then on it was a pretty regular thing." Not an exclusive thing though. "I knew one or two girls that he was involved with. One tried to beat me up at a dance in Falmouth!" (Source: Queen in Cornwall) Wait, did she say Falmouth? :O Eileen?!?

This is pure speculation, I have no idea whether it was Eileen. But if it was, I have a feeling Eileen was not, in fact, aware of any of the other girls. Because whoever tried to beat up Jill probably was under the impression that Roger was very much taken and exclusive with them!

September - Johnny Quale leaves The Reaction after a fight over whether they should play a gig when there is an Elvis film being screened at the same time, as you do. (Source: Queen in Cornwall)

And so, just over half a year after he joins a group where everyone is older than him, Roger pretty much becomes their drummer/lead singer. Picture the ecstatic, cocky grin. Picture it.

October - Roger goes to see The Who in concert. According to Eileen (who is still his girlfriend!? Have they kissed yet? Who knows!) Roger tries to catch Keith's drumsticks and "walked out of the concert on cloud nine". (Source: Queen - The Early Years)

Christmas - The Reaction play at a school dance (source: Queen in Cornwall) and Eileen breaks up with Roger. (Source: Queen - The Early Years)

Oh dear. Did someone finally tell Eileen about the other one or two girls? Ah, well. Roger doesn't look too broken up about it. (The picture is from the school dance.)

[sebssunshine]

ive been infected with logan sargeant brain rot so take some vampire!logan this fine evening

January 1st 1965 

Logan's first thought as he wakes up is a memory, one of him as a kid. The first time his dad took him hunting; the coppery smell of blood in the crisp new england air.

For his first few moments of consciousness Logan thinks he's back there, in those woods, standing in front of a deer bleeding out through a bullet hole in its skull. When he finally peels his eyes open it hits him; The previous night rushing back at him like a tidal wave. The party, the keg stand, the cute guy with dark hair making eyes at him from across the room. Stumbling through the woods, Logan's hand in his. The soft kisses and the sharp bite against his neck. 

The sun is just starting to peek out from behind the cloud cover and Logan moves to cover his eyes. The light hurts, it's not quite a burning sensation but it's definitely not pleasant. He gets up swaying a little before thumping down again into a patch of moss in the shade of a tree. He feels different then he did the night before; weirdly lighter. Logan shrugs off his letterman jacket, the gray green stained with blotches of rust, and chucks it about as far away from him as possible. The cold doesn't seem to bother him anymore. He scrubs his hands over his face and tries again to stand up. He still sways a bit but remains upright this time. Looking around Logan starts to walk, keeping in the shade of the trees; trying to retrace his drunken steps from the previous night. Eventually he stumbles across a stream, clear crisp water not yet frozen by the winter. Logan looks down at his reflection, he smiles confirming what had been rattling around in his brain since he woke up. His two front canines have elongated into sharp points and his eyes have turned from their usual blue green to a pale yellow. 

He leans down kneeling next to the water, runs his tongue over the tips of his teeth– his fangs; and grins. 

“Hell yeah.” 

[gvfgal]

Bound- Chapter One

Prologue

A/n: Welcome welcome. Take a seat, buckle up, & enjoy <3

No warnings this chapter!

Word Count: 4K

March 13, 1977

Nashville, Tennessee

“To another wonderful show in another wonderful city,” Josh raised his glass in a toast as the band and their team stood around a table at the crowded bar.

“Cheers,” everyone shouted in unison before knocking back their shots.

Jake’s face hardly faltered as he did so, more than used to the burning sensation that the alcohol brought.

Sam clapped a large hand on his big brother’s shoulder, “you were on fucking fire out there, Jake. Probably one of your best shows yet.”

Jake grinned lazily, “only up from here, brother.”

The celebration rolled on, many more drinks being knocked back, and though Jake was thoroughly enjoying himself, he was just about ready to turn in for the night.

He was the only one seated at the table, watching as his friends and brothers joked around while he sipped his neat whiskey, but as his eyes scanned the bar, he stopped and locked his sights on the door.

It couldn’t be…

You were laughing as you entered the crowded bar, your arm tangled with the arm of another man that Jake didn’t recognize.

A tidal wave of emotions began to wash over him as he watched you, such a different version of the girl he once loved, and still loved.

The confidence radiated off of you as you strolled through the bar with your guy, smiling wide and waving at people you recognized. Even the way you were dressed was a stark contrast to what Jake was used to seeing you in, it was truly a sight to behold.

He didn’t know what to do with himself in that moment. Part of him wanted to run to you and take you in his arms, kiss you and beg you to come back to him. Another part of him wanting to cower away in the corner, ashamed for the mistakes he made that drove you away from him, the mistakes that brought a brutal end to the beautiful memories you guys shared so many years ago.

Oh, those beautiful memories.

Jake shot up from the table, knocking his glass onto the floor to shatter at his feet.

Your eyes followed the crashing sound, and as your eyes met his, your world was once again turned upside down.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Five years ago…

June 1st, 1972

Townsend, Tennessee

You looked out into the vast field that stretched beyond the porch of your home, inhaling the country air that you loved so dearly. Usually, the field would be overflowing with life, all of your family’s farm animals grazing about. But the heat was sweltering on this particular June afternoon, and the grass, which was usually a bold green against the blue sky, had been dried out by the sun’s brutality, causing the animals to seek shelter within the barn; making your view fairly boring.

You sat on an overturned bucket underneath the shade of your porch, your long cotton sundress shaded in perriwinkle hiked up every so slightly, feet bare, cracking pecans into a wicker basket. You had taken your portable radio that usually sat in the windowsill of the kitchen, and now had it placed on the old wooden table behind you. You hummed quietly along to the Janis Joplin song that played through the static while your mom sat in her usual rocking chair positioned behind you, occupied with her own basket of pecans.

Beginning to grow bored of the task at hand, you dropped your nut cracker onto the ground in front of you, standing with a loud mewling stretch.

Off in the distance, you could hear the faint sound of a car engine approaching from the main road, and you stretched on your toes to try and see as far as you possibly could, trying to catch a glimpse of who it could’ve been.

Suddenly, beyond the cloud of dust that was being kicked up, you saw that familiar 1965 Ford F100 with slightly rusted midnight blue paint clambering its way down the dirt path, and it took all your strength to hold back the smile that threatened to capture your features.

You chose instead to let a small smirk creep its way to the surface.

“Jakes here,” you spoke calmly to your mom, although you felt like shouting it with glee, and your eyes never strayed from his approaching vehicle.

Your mom stood from her spot too, gathering the pecans she had successfully shelled.

“I’ll go get your father,” she called back as she entered the house, wearing her own smirk that you didn’t catch.

She shook her head mumbling to herself, “that girl is head over heels.”

Your mom was fully aware of the huge crush that you had on Jake, truthfully she noticed it the first day Jake and his family rolled around. Call it mother’s intuition.

But even after all the time that has passed, and the years you spent in another state for college, seeing his face still gave you that feeling.

Like the drop from the peak of a rollercoaster, that’s how you’d describe it.

Jake’s engine idled as he parked, and you leaned against the post on the house, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, eyeing him as he exited his truck.

He had on a pair of bootcut jeans (that hugged his legs and backside perfectly, you had to admit), with a muscle shirt tucked into it, a leather belt with a large buckle holding everything in place.

A very worn flannel shirt hung on his shoulders loosely, the red material practically see through. The black cowboy hat that he grabbed from his passenger seat matched his black (surprisingly clean) boots, he looked like walking sex.

You let out a silent wisp of air before he could notice before clearing your throat.

“Hey Jake.”

It came out a lot softer than you intended, and you cursed yourself for sounding so pathetic.

You grinned through it anyhow.

He slammed the door of his truck shut, smiling at you broadly as he looked up at you on the porch.

As he fixed his hat on his head, you could swear you saw his eyes drop down to your lips, and briefly, oh so briefly, down to your chest, but that might’ve been wishful thinking.

“Howdy,” Jake tipped his hat as he approached you.

How cliché that a country Tennessee boy greeted you with a “howdy”, yet for some reason, the way it sounded rolling off his tongue struck you right in the heart, you could’ve grabbed your chest in a dramatic fashion from the way it pained you.

Out of things to say, you simply watched as he made his way up onto the porch leaning opposite of you on the other post, his smile never leaving.

“It’s a hot one, ain’t it?”

His face was alight with the way he smiled, and you couldn’t manage to form words.

You nodded softly with a bashful smile. Your display of shyness made Jake chuckle.

“Still ever the shy one. I like your dress.”

You looked down at your attire. Even though it was plain, it was one of your favorite dresses.

“Thank you, Jacob.”

He laughed at you calling him his full name, then turned to look out over the field that you had been admiring just minutes before. A warm breeze that came through caused his wavy, untamed locks to blowout behind him from under his hat, and you swear the entire scene needed to be captured and blown up into a large print so that rich snobs could bid millions just to have it hanging in their homes.

You opened your mouth to say something, what exactly, you were unsure of, but just as you began to form words, your loud father swung the creaky porch door open.

“Jacob Kizka,” his voice boomed as he grabbed up Jake’s hand and shook it roughly like only your father could.

“Mr. Y/l/n, good to see ya sir.”

The aggressive handshake didn’t seem to bother him any.

“Let’s go around back and I’ll show ya where that fence needs patching,” your father directed, getting straight to business.

Before following behind your dad, Jake turned to your mom and gave her a tip of his hat, “Mrs. Y/l/n”, he then turned to you, his smirk suddenly reappearing on his face, “Y/n.”

With that he turned and made his exit, and you almost couldn’t help but take a long hard look at his ass as he walked away.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jake had spent the entirety of his afternoon repairing your fence, and you spent the entirety of your afternoon watching him.

From the window above the sink in the kitchen, you had the perfect view of him as he worked tirelessly on the task, and you had come up with every excuse possible, to spend as much time in the kitchen as you could, to steal as many glances as you could.

And now that the sun had begun setting, it was time for you and your mom to prepare dinner.

Perfect.

You stood at the sink, scrubbing away at a pot that had to be spotless by now, watching as Jake tossed tools into his tool bag.

He’d shed his flannel a few hours back when the heat of the day approached, and his muscle shirt clung tightly to his form due to the full sheet of sweat that coated his body.

You could feel your mouth slowly begin to salivate as you watched his muscles flex upon making different movements, and when he stood taught and ran a hand through his hair, head thrown back to face the sky, the picture of some sexy men’s care commercial, the pot you were vigorously scrubbing hit the sink with a loud clank, startling you out of your trance.

“Sorry,” you looked over your shoulder to apologize, and when you turned back to the window, Jacob had suddenly disappeared.

Slightly disappointed that your show had come to a close, you grabbed up the pot you had over cleaned and moved it to the stove where your mom already had her hand out for it.

The echo of boots hitting the wooden panels of the floor sounded through the house, and before you knew it, Jake was standing in the entryway of the kitchen, slightly sweaty, with his flannel thrown over his shoulder.

He shot you an unreadable expression, one that froze you even further into the ground, and as hard as you tried, you couldn’t pull your eyes from his face.

There was a smear of dirt across his right cheek, underneath his eye, and you imagined for a moment, sitting on his lap in the bathroom, wiping the day's work from his perfect face.

“Fence is all fixed up,” he spoke to your mom, who’s back was still turned as she slaved over the stove, yet his eyes stayed trained on your figure.

“Oh Jacob I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your help,” your mom exclaimed, still oblivious to the stare down you and Jake were having.

“You know my husband always says he can do those things, and always ends up calling you” she continued as she finished mashing potatoes and dropping a slab of butter down into the pot. She wiped her hands on a rag then turned to face the two of you.

You averted your gaze quickly and busied yourself with another pointless task, Jake smirking at your back.

“Why don’t you join us for dinner,” your mom continued, “there’s plenty to go around.”

You grimaced, as much as you were enjoying being around Jake, you didn’t think you could take the closeness much longer. With every minute passing you became more and more unraveled. Soon enough you were sure to lose your ability to speak all together.

“That sounds like a damn good idea to me,” your dad bellowed as he entered the kitchen, rubbing over his stomach.

Jake very much noticed your reaction to the invitation, but it only made him want to accept it that much more.

“I think I’d like that.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Dinner was pretty quiet on your end. Your parents engaged Jake in conversation for the most part, and you’d chime in with the occasional head nod every once in a while to appear as if you were engaged. When Jake asked you questions about Berkeley and the Peace Corps, your answers were short and to the point.

Other than being ridiculously shy, you were slightly irritated at the way that Jake was getting a kick out of your uneasiness. All through dinner he was sending you shit eating grins, or staring at you as your eyes bounced around the room, refusing to look at him, chuckling all the while.

He thought it was funny that after all these years, you still acted like that bashful 5 year old he met all those years ago. He found it cute. Endearing. It reminded him of simpler times, times when he could hardly get enough of you.

And hell, sitting here now, he felt as if he still couldn’t get enough.

“So Jake, you and the boys still rockin’ the house down?” your dad wiped his face with his napkin.

Jake smiled, “still rockin’. We actually have a gig tonight at the Blues Corner,” he turned to you then, “you know you could come y/n. The boys would love to see you.”

“Oh that sounds like a wonderful idea, y/n.”

The table was quiet as everyone watched you, waiting for your answer. You tumbled a million different excuses around in your head, but at the end of the day, none of them were believable.

Then it hit you, it had been years since you’ve been able to hear Jake play, and the feeling that the memory brought you had you rather eager to experience it again.

You sighed, “sure, why not? Sounds fun.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After dinner, Jake said his goodbyes and told you he’d be back by 9 to pick you up. You helped your mom clean the table then raced up the stairs to get ready.

You don’t know how you did it, but you managed to pull it all together by 9pm sharp. Your hair was in its usual curly state, bangs hanging just above your eyes. Your dress was clover green, hanging loosely at your mid thigh with light brown embroidery on the trim. The sleeves were flared, and you threw a brown vest over the top, completing the look with your trusty brown cowboy boots.

As you spritzed perfume along your collarbone, you saw Jakes headlights pulling back up in the driveway. Grabbing your brown fringe saddle bag from the back of your door, you gave yourself one final glance in the mirror, nodding at your appearance.

“I’m out. I’ll see y’all later,” you called to your parents as you jogged down the stairs towards the door.

They were sitting in their twin arm chairs in front of the Tv, your dad nursing a beer and your mom working away at a sudoku puzzle as the news lulled in the background.

“Be safe,” your dad called back.

“Have fun,” your mom added.

Jake was standing beside the passenger side of his truck as you exited, dressed a little more debonair in a pair of black jeans and a blue linen shirt. Only a few buttons towards the bottom were fastened, and he had an array of necklaces decorating his chest, and his long hair was pulled into a bun at the base of his head, a black brimmed hat on top.

You’d never seen him dressed like this before, but you liked it very much. He looked so much more mature than you remembered him last, more of a man than the silly teenager you were used to.

You knew you were staring, but you just couldn’t will yourself to look away.

As you approached the car, Jake pulled your door open for you, giving you a nod, “you look gorgeous, y/n,” he complimented with a shy grin.

You smiled back, “thank you. Not so bad yourself Jacob.”

He shook his head, closing the door behind you once you were in.

“Jacob,” he chortled under his breath.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The drive was slightly awkward. You sat looking out the window as Jake flipped back and forth between radio stations, then fiddling with the air vents, anything to keep himself busy.

After the silence between you became unbearable for Jake, he spoke up, “so,” he cleared his throat, “are you excited to see us play? It’s been awhile.”

You pulled your head to look over at him with a half grin, “yeah, I am actually. I miss the days when I got to watch you guys for hours.”

Jake beamed, sounding distant as he recalled those memories, “you used to love it.”

“I did. I just hope you guys have gotten better,” you jabbed.

Jake laughed out loud, “oh come on, we weren’t that bad. I was just always nervous to play in front of you, that’s all.”

You felt blush rising to your cheeks, “you were nervous?”

Jake looked at you briefly before looking back at the road, “yeah. You made me nervous, I wasn’t used to playing for pretty girls just yet.”

“But now you are?” you teased further.

He smirked, “I guess I’ll find out tonight.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I don’t believe my eyes. Y/n y/l/n in the flesh,” Josh shouted loudly as Jake approached the stage with you.

You couldn’t help but smile seeing your old friend again. Josh looked a lot more mature too, only his hair was a mess of curls instead of long like his twin’s.

“Sammy, Dan, come check this out,” he continued as he threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you in for a squeeze, “it’s good to see you, mama.”

“Good to see you too, Josh,” you hugged him back. As Sam and Danny approached you, your eyes bucked.

“Holy shit you two got tall.”

They enveloped you in a group hug, sandwiching you between their towering frames.

“That, or you’re shrinking,” Sam laughed, “but you’re still pretty, so that’s what matters.”

“And Danny, your hair,” you reached up and pulled at one of his bouncy curls that hung at his shoulders.

“I was inspired by you,” he shrugged.

Jake aided you in ordering drinks for the group, and you all hung around as the boys set up their equipment, talking and catching up on time lost.

After about half an hour, it was time for the boys to perform, you had the best seat in the house, right in front of where Jake stood tuning his guitar.

Finally, Josh tapped on the mic and got the attention of the slightly crowded bar, “good evening everyone, you all look lovely tonight. We’re Greta Van Fleet uh, and we’re gonna rock with you guys for a little while, is that alright?”

Someone in the bar whistled loudly, and the rest of the room erupted into cheers.

Danny let off a four count with his drumsticks, Jake strummed the first note on his guitar, and the room was filled with a funky upbeat tune.

You were completely mesmerized as Josh belted out a long run, all of the boys completely engulfed in the music. You didn’t recognize the song, so you figured it was something they had written themselves, and it was incredible.

Sure, they had always been pretty good, but this was unlike anything you’d ever seen or heard before. From every note that Josh hit, every pluck Sam and Jake made on their instruments, down to every strike Danny landed on his drum set, it was perfection.

You could see it clear as day, the four brothers, up on a big stage, playing to adoring crowds as they jammed together like they always had. It was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Throughout the few songs they performed, Jake’s eyes would constantly find yours, one time you even swore he sent you a quick wink.

And although you were enjoying seeing all of them up there, you were completely raptured with Jake.

He had acquired a thin sheen of sweat over time, partly from the blinding stage lights and partly from how intensely he was playing.

His hair, which he had freed from his hat and bun before the show, was sticking to the sides of his face, and everytime he threw his head back, his face contorting as he produced beautiful sounds from his Gibson, your legs squeezed together a little tighter.

Jacob Thomas Kiszka was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, that was a fact.

The boys finished their set with a rendition of Elvis’ ‘That’s Alright Mama’ that had everyone in the bar rocking to the beat, Josh animatedly whining on stage as he crooned the notes out

The bar was buzzing with excitement as the boys bid farewell from the stage, and after a thousand thank yous and handshakes, they were finally returned to you.

“Time for shots,” Sam cheered, “I’m ready to fucking party.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You hadn’t been this drunk in a long time, and you were a giggling mess in Jake’s passenger seat as he drove the two of you home after the bar.

It ended up being the most fun you’ve had in awhile, Jake and the boys, as usual, bringing you out of your shell more than anyone else ever could.

Jake was by your side all night, talking and laughing with you as you shared your many stories from your college days.

He had forgotten how much fun it was to be with you, and for a moment that night, he felt guilty for the way you guys grew apart in highschool, wishing so badly he could rewind the clock and redo it the right way.

But right now, as you sat in his passenger seat, as beautiful as you’d ever been, all he felt was gratefulness.

“What are you snickerin’ about over there,” he teased as he glanced over at you.

You had discarded your boots and had your feet kicked up on the dashboard.

“I just can’t believe you guys were that fuckin’ amazing,” your words were slightly slurred.

Jake smiled, “you really liked it?”

“Liked it,” you sat up and looked directly at him, no longer laughing, “Jake I loved it. I’m serious, I've never heard anything like it. The way you guys just commande the room from start to finish… It's amazing. I mean you guys seriously need to be playing on big stages. Huge venues. Small town bars don’t do you guys justice.”

“Well, that’s the plan. Hopefully we can make it happen.”

Your eyes were glued to his profile, “I think you can do anything you put your mind to Jake.”

He turned to look at you, your eyes locking momentarily.

Jake swallowed hardly before turning on his blinker and turning into your property.

You were silent the rest of the way as he pulled in front of your house, undoing his seat belt and coming around to get your door.

You allowed yourself a moment to gain your balance, before walking alongside Jake to your front door.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that made you bold enough to say what you did next.

“Still walking me all the way to my door like we’re in the fourth grade?”

Jake scoffed nervously, looking down at his feet, “yeah. Guess some things never change, huh?”

You smiled at his shyness, deciding against giving him a hard time, “I had a lot of fun tonight, Jake. Thanks for the invite.”

“I had fun too,” he looked back up at you, “I’m glad you came. It was nice looking out and seeing your face again.”

It was your turn to be nervous now, and you fiddled with the fringe on your purse.

After a moment of lingering silence, Jake spoke up again, reaching out to squeeze your hand gently, “you take care, alright? I’ll see you around.”

“You too, Jake.”

His eyes dropped to your lips momentarily, before looking back into your eyes, letting go of your hand.

“Night.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Chapter Two

[major-knighton]

HALLOW-LEE-N movie review Oct 29th : The Skull (1965)

Alright, let's get back in the saddle. This one was kinda relevant to some interests of mine, notably the 18th century. It was also more special effects heavy than most films watched here, but I liked that. It reminded me of the original Star Trek series in its kitschy enterprising.

The intro shows us a guy digging up someone to steal their skull, unfortunately the guy dies a horrible and mysterious death in a cloud of mist while cleaning the skull. Later, the guy's lawyer stabs a woman under the influence of... ✨THE SKULL✨

Jump to present day. During an auction presided by our thrice-returning Michael Gough, our man Maitland (Peter Cushing) and his friend Phillips (Lee) compete for a set of devil statues. Phillips wins, but he can't explain why he wants the statues so badly he's willing to pay much more than they're worth.

At home, Maitland buys a book from his usual contact, Marco. Today Marco brings him a book about the Marquis de Sade, overall terrible human being and shitstain of a century that counted many a terrible people. This book is also bound in human skin, so that's cool.

The next day, Marco comes back with a skull, claiming it's the Marquis's skull and also it's cursed by the same evil spirit that possessed de Sade. Personally I think demons have nothing to do with it and Sade was just a rancid noble who simply was never told it no enough. Anyway.

Maitland isn't sure about buying the skull, because he can't tell if it's genuine. He confides in his buddy Phillips over a game of billiard.

Phillips confirms the skull is real, because it used to belong to him and was stolen. He doesn't want it back though, he says the skill is evil and kept calling to him and even made him buy the devil statues. Maitland decides this is all a bunch of rubbish.

That night, Maitland dreams he's been kidnapped and forced to play Russian roulette. He wakes up in Marco's apartment, and goes him. This does not deter him in the slightest, and he goes back in the morning to buy the skull.

He founds Marco very dead, and makes sure to hide the skull before he calls the cops. The next day, Maitland comes back for the skull. Upon being confronted by the caretaker, he simply pushes him down the stairs to kill him.

At home, Maitland puts the skull up in a glass display case and is happy with himself. Not for long.

The skull compels him to break into Phillips' house to steal the devil statues. Phillips finds him in flagrante delicto, and tells him to just get rid of the damn thing, to which Maitland responds by violently bonking him on the head with the statue.

When Maitland puts the devil statue on his little table, the skull zooms out of its case and comes to rest on the table with the human skin book. Oh yeah, that skull is straight up floating around now.

The skull tries to get Maitland to stab his own wife, but she's wearing a crucifix and therefore he can't. The mirrors in the house are cracking, the paintings are swinging, it's a demon party in there. Maitland ends up locked in his own bedroom, howling for help, while the skull floats towards him until it bites him in the neck strong enough to kill him.

I enjoyed the cinematography of this film, especially the shots from behind the skull's eyesockets. That was creative.

Due to being a direct descendant of the same French peasant girls that the Marquis made his regular victims though, I spent most of the movie less frightened of the sentient skull and more wishing I could trample it under my feet. Ah well.

A creative, visually fun movie even if it verses a bit into cliché. 7/10.

[sylviaplathink]

via @ErikaLovesLit on Twitter

...

ELM

I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root; It is what you fear. I do not fear it: I have been there. Is it the sea you hear in me, Its dissatisfactions? Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness? Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it. Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse. All night I shall gallup thus, impetuously, Till your head is a stone, your pillow a little turf, Echoing, echoing. Or shall I bring you the sound of poisons? This is rain now, the big hush. And this is the fruit of it: tin white, like arsenic. I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets. Scorched to the root My red filaments burn and stand,a hand of wires. Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs. A wind of such violence Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek. The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me Cruelly, being barren. Her radience scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her. I let her go. I let her go Diminshed and flat, as after radical surgery. How your bad dreams possess and endow me. I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps out Looking, with its hooks, for something to love. I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrevables? Is it for such I agitate my heart? I am incapable of more knowledge. What is this, this face So murderous in its strangle of branches?— Its snaky acids kiss. It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults That kill, that kill, that kill.

—written 19 April 1962, in Ariel, 1965

[bestfrozentreats2]

Godfrey - The Trip (Long Version) (1965 psychedelic garage)

Godfrey's legendary 1965 Sunset Strip psychedelic-garage take on Kim Fowley's "The Trip", in an extended version that combines the two variations on the same song into one. Image is of the Hollywood Cinerama and the Sunset Strip back in 1967, since this song came from that scene. 

“ It's that time babe, it's time to take a trip! To take a trip! Gotta leave this place, and all the rat race. You gotta take a trip to somewhere else. Up to the mountains And parks with fountains Where there's sunny weather, we'll get together. Everything's so pretty, miles from any city. Just you and I, and the big blue sky above mountains high. No more will we punch the clock, all day and night we can rock. We'll build a path, that'll be never sad. The music will be loud, only the in-crowd will be allowed. Yeah! let's take a trip, let's take a trip. It'll be top. It'll be top. Hey let's go now! Let's hit the road babe! Fasten your seatbelt, let's hit the road! Hey here we go! Let's take a trip, let's take a trip. I'll drive the car 'til we get far. Far away, hey hey. Feelin' good! No more frustration, a lifelong vacation. Let's take a trip! I feel so hip. Oh, oh yeah! Look around, at the people, in the town No goal, no soul. They'll never be, positively free, like you and me. Come on babe, ah come on babe We're almost there. Summertime's here kiddies, and it's time to take a trip. To take a trip! This world's so bad, you feel so sad. You gotta take a trip into a world so glad. A world of frogs And green fountains And flying dogs And silver cats And emerald rats And purple clouds And faceless crowds And walls of glass, that never pass. And pictures hanging upside down You won't ask where you are. You and your girl, and all your friends Will all be there 

Oh yeah! Let's take a trip! Let's take a trip! TNT, SOS, HOB, TOP It's Top! It's top! Hey here we go now! Let's climb some mountains everybody! Get on your walking shoes, let's climb some mountains! Now here we go Let's take a trip, let's take a trip Let's start to dream, just close your eyes. It's groovy now, yeah! Soaking. Cause I'm swimming in the new year It's all around, let's take a trip Right from the ground Oh, oh yeah, let's take a trip It's really hip No one will know What goes on Just you and me, and the dreams we see. 

Come on baby, ah come on baby You're doing it right, just put your head back. You're doing it right, just put your head back.”

[usafphantom2]

SR-71 pilot recalls when a KC-135Q crew flew through a thunderstorm with their tanker’s throttles frozen to refuel his Blackbird.

The KC-135Q

It’s impossible to overemphasise the essential role played by the KC-135Q tanker crews, without whom successful prosecution of the SR-71 Blackbird mission would have been impossible. As told by Paul F Crickmore in his book Lockheed Blackbird: Beyond the Secret Missions (Revised Edition), it became apparent to Strategic Air Command (SAC) that the tanker force dedicated to supporting SR-71 operations would need to be expanded beyond the original 21 Q-model aircraft and in 1967 the decision was made to modify an additional 35 aircraft. Some 20 KC-135As from the 70th AREFS, 43rd BW at Little Rock AFB, Arkansas, and 15 from the 306th AREFS, 306th BW at McCoy AFB, Florida were therefore converted.

SR-71 T-Shirts

CLICK HERE to see The Aviation Geek Club contributor Linda Sheffield’s T-shirt designs! Linda has a personal relationship with the SR-71 because her father Butch Sheffield flew the Blackbird from test flight in 1965 until 1973. Butch’s Granddaughter’s Lisa Burroughs and Susan Miller are graphic designers. They designed most of the merchandise that is for sale on Threadless. A percentage of the profits go to Flight Test Museum at Edwards Air Force Base. This nonprofit charity is personal to the Sheffield family because they are raising money to house SR-71, #955. This was the first Blackbird that Butch Sheffield flew on Oct. 4, 1965.

The only crews qualified to refuel the SR-71 Blackbird

KC-135Q crews and their aircraft were unique from the rest of the Air Force in several ways. As explained by Col. Richard H. Graham, a former Blackbird pilot, in his book SR-71 The Complete Illustrated History of THE BLACKBIRD The World’s Highest, Fastest Plane, their aircrews in fact were the only one certified in Blackbird’s specific radio-silent rendezvous procedures, and their boom operators were the only ones qualified to refuel the SR-71. The Q-model tankers had special plumbing between their fuel tanks, allowing them to transfer JP-4 and JP-7 fuel between various tanks. Their engine could burn transfer JP-4 or JP-7 fuel. If the SR-71 landed somewhere JP-7 fuel was not available, the Q-model tankers flew in with the fuel and, through the use of transfer hoses on the ground, were able to refuel the SR-71.

No SR-71 story would be complete without KC-135Q

No story on the SR-71 would be complete without an understanding and appreciation of just how valuable the KC-135Q model tankers and their crews were to the successful and safe completion of every mission.

It suffices to say that an SR-71 never ran out of gas, as proved by the following story told by former Blackbird pilot David Peters.

‘There are many stories of the loyalty, bravery and reliability of our Q tanker guys. This is a great one for sure.

The story of the SR-71 Blackbird that pitched up and collided with a KC-135Q tanker during an air refueling over El Paso

KC-135Q crews bravery

‘Ed Bethart and I were flying a mission out of Kadena and it was definitely thunderstorm season. We were in heavy clouds headed to the tanker after takeoff and as we got DF and distance contact, we couldn’t see a thing. As we closed in, we had our 2000 ft altitude separation and at a mile had no contact. So, we told the guys to recheck their altimeter setting because we were coming up a thousand and in 1/2 mile. They confirmed their setting and altitude and airspeed so we moved up and in.

‘Still nothing.

‘Restated the whole thing and that we would come up 500 and close to a 1/4 mile. Still nothing then like bursting through a curtain there he was right where he said he was.’

Throttles frozeni

He continues;

‘We closed for hook up and got contact. I noticed that I kept ducking my head beside something was hitting the windscreen. It was ice falling off the tanker.

‘I said “Hey Teddy (Ted Bittel) you have Ice coming off.” About that time Ed says “we are at 290 kts and descending.” Of course, Teddy could hear that on the boom interphone and he says “yes we have had the throttles frozen for the last half hour so we are trying to get the speed up for when you get heavier.” It all worked out and we got filled up.

KC-135R print

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. KC-135R Stratotanker 161st Air Refueling Wing, 197th Air Refueling Squadron “Copperheads”, 63-8038 – Arizona Air National Guard – Sky Harbor ANG Base, AZ

‘However, the weather was so bad, when we tried to climb out, we hear very heavy turbulence, rain and lightning. Tried three times to accel but got violent unstarts each time. I tried going to manual inlets to open up and try to make it but it just couldn’t do it so we had to abort and return to Kadena.

A 20 lb block of ice

’In the debrief the maintenance guys came in and showed us that the wave guide antennas in the nose were gone totally eroded by the rain. Then Chief Kelly came in and dropped a 20 lb block of ice on the table. He said it came from the flight control mixer quadrant.’

Peters concludes;

‘So, another of those stories where circumstances were incredibly difficult to the point of losing the mission but not because our incredible Q guys weren’t there for us.’

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Twitter Page Habubrats SR-71 and Facebook Page Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

Photo credit: U.S. Air Force

[severe-intense-gaze]

Evgraf “Granya” Andreevich Zhivago from Boris Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago but this time he’s a cat.

Artwork by @gollier1551 on Twitter (X), commissioned by me.

“Before him stood an adolescent of about eighteen, in a stiff coat of reindeer hide with the fur side out, as they wear them in Siberia, and a hat of the same fur. The boy had a swarthy face with narrow Kirghiz eyes. There was something aristocratic in his face, that fleeting spark, that hidden fineness that seems brought from far away and occurs in people with complex, mixed blood.”

Doctor Zhivago, B. L. Pasternak, Translated by Pevear & Volokhonsky (2010)

I am simply fascinated by the fact that Yuri’s all-powerful and enigmatic brother Granya always shows up as if he “drops off from the clouds” and vanishes just as mysteriously (almost like a cat). Rowland & Rowland (1963)’s interpretation, that Evgraf is a supernatural entity acting as the doctor-poet’s guardian spirit, appeals to me much more than what Bolt and Lean try to validate in their 1965 movie adaptation (Evgraf is a Bolshevik fighter and a Chekist).

“Significantly, Evgraf's name is a charactonym, from Greek eugraphos (good writing or good writer). The doctor poet's brother, then, is one of a long line of incorporeal companions to poets and heroes, such as Athene to Odysseus, Khidr to Moses (in Islamic tradition), the angels to St. John in Revelation, the Sibyl to Aencas, and the shade of Virgil to Dante.”

Rowland & Rowland (1963)

Nonetheless the artist and I steal the balalaika from the movie coz I find the trope (as cliched as it can be) fits perfectly with the book’s motif (resurrection of the souls through the circulations of art and life).