View allAll Photos Tagged BuzzKill
====Panassa Studios====
*If you were walking past the studios that night, you might have heard a number of things. The roaring flames of a former arsonist and his dustbin, trying to keep his nature at bay. The sound of two interns hooking up behind the costume closets. Or maybe, you'd have heard the sound of a 500 pound Latino man fly through the air faster than a speeding Bullock. From the rubble, Bane emerged, weakened. Defeated. And at the mercy of a very angry director*
Bane- You *cough* You don't disobey The Society!
Billings- You don't disrespect my art! I'll make my film how I see fit, thank you very much! And there's nothing you can do about it.
*Bane grumbled, but he knew there was little he could do. He grabbed his coat, and left, swearing the kinds of terrible vengeance Billings knew all villains swore. He'd probably tell Calculator that he'd killed or crippled him or something. Heh. Oversized idiot. No one interferes with art*
Actress- Mr Billings, are you ok?
Billings- Quite fine Bea, I.. how about a nightcap?
====One Year Later====
*He was shaking all over. Tonight was the night. He was actually going to win. Not once, not twice but- Breath. Just breath. And smile.*
"-And the Oscar goes to... Dellbert Billings"
*Easy does it. Try to be humble*
Billings- Yes! Yes! Ahem, I mean, thank you very much- all of you! It's a privilege, really. I'd like to thank Mr Walker, for his inspiration. It's a shame he didn't make it. We really were close, so of course I was shocked when I heard he'd gone and killed himself... But. I won't dwell on horrid things. This is a night of celebration, and I intend to do just that. I suppose, first of all, that I will kiss my lovely wife- who, I in fact fell in love with during production. Then, I think I'll pop on over to the Iceberg Lounge, and say hello to some old friends of mine! Yes. The Iceberg Lounge...
*The smell of fine wine and cigars filled the busy interior of the Lounge. And all around the VIP table, people flocked to see Billings. He laughed heartily. Listening to the ballads sang in his honour using a tune remarkably similar to Goldfinger of all things. He couldn't complain. It was all he ever wanted*
"Spellbinder
He's the man
The man with that loving touch
The gentlest touch
He's a mind bender
Beckons you to enter his den of sin
Just walk right in
Hello sweetie, go grab him a beer
Piss off Scarecrow, you can't master fear
For the Society knows he's no kinder
It's their kiss of death! From Mr Spellbinder
Pretty girls, beware of his heart of gold
He's brave and bold.
Hello sweetie, go grab him a beer
Piss off Scarecrow, you can't master fear
For the Society knows he's no kinder
It's their kiss of death! From Mr Spellbinder
Pretty girls, beware of his heart of gold
He's brave and bold.
He's brave and he's bold
Brave and bold.
Brave and bold
He's brave and bold
Brave and bold
Heart of gold!"
Nigma- Riddle me this! Which of here won not one, but seven Oscars in one night?
Joker- Me!
Nigma- No, you clown. Billings!
Sionis- Heh. You deserve it Dell.
Penguin- Well done old sport, waugh waugh!
Billings- Why, thank you Mr Cobblepot! Thank you all! You know, it's funny. I started with nothing. It's only thanks to all that shit you flung my way that I even got here. But I made it. I did! C-List no more.
Joker- C-List no more? No kidding! You're one of us now.
Nigma- Better than us. You actually won!
*Billings took a sip of his martini, trying to wipe the very wide smile on his face*
Billings- Heh, well now, you've- Y'know what, you're right! I did win! Got the gold, got the girl, got 100% on Rotten Tomatoes!
Penguin- Waugh! Hear, hear. A toast. To the Spellbinder. The best of all of us.
*The patrons all raised a glass, and with a chorus of "To Spellbinder" they clapped and cheered. Every one of them was just like him once. He could see them- Human Magnet, Spinner, his old buddy Dekker... And in a way, he pitied them. He grabbed another Martini off the tray and wolfed it down at the sight of another patron making his way to him. Someone he'd rather avoid. Killer Croc. Just for a second Billings looked at him, uneasily, and immediately clutched his prosthetic leg tightly under the table. Just like that the room felt much darker. The lights flickered, and when they came back on, Bane was sitting on the other side of him. A sandwich of sin.*
Billings- Bane... Ha! Look at this loser! Another round, get something stronger for *this* buzzkill haha!
*Bane didn't move. And no one spoke. Croc blew a ring of cigar smoke in Billings' face, and he coughed it up hard.*
Billings- What...? You know me, Jones, you don't frighten me- either of you!
*Croc opened his mouth, revealing row upon row of pointed teeth. But it wasn't his voice that rang out. "You gotta wake up Del," it said.
It was Lynns' signature drawl that was speaking to him. Billings moved further back into the booth. There was no Joker, Riddler or Penguin. The Oscars sprawled across the tables were gone, and the bar was empty. He looked back into "Croc's" eyes, and whimpered*
"But I don't want to."
======
*He was back in his trailer, huddled against the kitchen sink. The Oscar he thought he was clutching was just a bottle of ketchup, and when he looked down his prosthetic was gone. A Paramedic was holding his mask, the source of the illusion, while Gar knelt beside him*
Gar- What the hell were you after, doing a thing like that? What, using your tech to get a high?
*Billings held his ketchup closely to his chest. It wasn't an Oscar, and he was back in hell. He stared back as Lynns*
"Happiness. It was happiness"
====Washington DC====
*Drury rubbed his face. The stubble was growing out again. He had to stop off at a hotel or something, get it shaved before he went full Jedi. He waved down a taxi, and got in- just in time to receive a phone call from Gar*
Gar- Get off the plane fine?
Drury- Aye, I did. In the cab now. Think Gotham will manage in the meantime?
Gar- Oh no, without you, we're royally fucked.
Drury- Funny! You sound happy all things considered. How's Josie?
Gar- Great. The kid's great. And yeah. I mean, I am. Happy, that is. It's a low paying job, sure, and yeah my boss is a fuckin' gorilla now-
Drury- Some thug replaced Billings?
Gar- A literal Gorilla.
Drury- Ahhh.
Gar- But, y'know, it's worth it. Because of her.
Drury- So, you're still saying no.
Gar- Yeah. Yeah, I am. Sorry, but not this time. But, y'know what? I look forward to seeing you fail on live TV. Again.
Drury- Love you too Gar. *He motions to the driver* Yeah, off here please.
Gar- Heh. Listen, good luck.
Drury- And you! With your literal Gorilla boss.
Gar- It's Grodd, actually.
Drury- Ahhh.
Gar- One last thing. Drury, did you call ahead?
Drury- I...
Gar- Fucking hell... Speaking of luck... You'll need it.
*Drury sighs. Why was that damn pyro always right? Mind, he didn't even know if he *had* a phone in the first place, so he's not *really* at fault... It's nice to have a loophole. So. He lived here? Nice place. Very nice actually! And he had those tacky Flamingo statue things! How lovely! ... He was getting side tracked again. He knocked on the door, bracing himself for a quick punch to the face, and...*
"You?"
Drury- Hi Norbert. May I have a cuppa?
These are the members of Mayhem thus far. From Left to Right we have Buzzkill, Apothecary, Crepuscule, Dr. Frostbyte, and Thrill Kill. Thrill Kill and Buzzkill are the ones that do most of the grunt work. Apothecary oversees the medicinal/potion side of things. Dr. Frostbyte is in charge of the science sector of Mayhem. Crepuscule deals in the Thrill trade. Not much is known about the leader of Mayhem, or the true goals of the organization. Some say they want utter control over Cardinal City, and others say they are special supremacists.
Alias: Buzzkill
Real Name: Buzz Saunders
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Allegiance: Villain
Powers: Has shuriken stored in most of his suit. He is able to use them at any time, which can spin around him, creating a whirlwind. He can also use them as projectiles.
Alias: Apothecary
Real Name: Wilhelm Mercurius
Gender: Male
Allegiance: Villain
Backstory: A man with his own Apothecary business in the streets of the Drag, he created potions that would cure many different ailments that his patients had. He was dedicated to his craft, and would spend very little time outdoors, and the time he did spend would be to get supplies. As time went on, less development came to the Drag, and money was spent in the higher end districts. Eventually, Wilhelm had to close down his Apothecary as the profit wasn't good enough for the owners of the land. He realized that this was an opportunity, to do more, and gain more. This led to him creating potions which would imbue him with certain abilities for short periods of time. When his business was shut down, Wilhelm would become Apothecary, using the potions he makes to imbue himself with power for short periods of time. During this time, he would go on to do various criminal activities. No one really understands the method to his madness, or what exactly his goals are, but whatever they are, it's definitely nothing good.
Alias: Crepuscule
Name: Victoria Kerrigan
Allegiance: Villain
Backstory: She and her husband Noah support their daughter Leilah through everything. During the day, Victoria works as a private investigator, helping her clients as best she can. At night, she, along with Noah, help in smuggling shipments of Thrill to a variety of different gangs that are able to pay for it. Noah is mostly hesitant, and has tried to get out of the illegal activities, but Victoria always convinces him to keep going forward with it. She misconstrues it as a way of helping her daughter live the life she wants. Ever since Leilah found out about her nighttime activities, she's been trying to do anything she can to save her relationship with her daughter. But with Leilah living with her boyfriend Don Aldwin, there isn't much Victoria can do as of now. She prays for the day her daughter comes back, but until then, she will amass a great fortune.
Powers: She is able to weaken metas with black matter and her physical attributes are enhanced at nighttime.
Weakness: She's vulnerable against bright light energy
Alias: Dr. Frostbyte
Name: Sergei Moroz
Gender: Male
Allegiance: Villain
Backstory: While he was growing up, his parents pushed him into athletics, trying to find where he belonged. He wasn't like the other boys in his class though. While they were outside playing, he was inside, reading. He wanted to learn, and amass as much knowledge as he could. In particular, he found science to be fascinating. In a world full of powered individuals, there could be so much breakthroughs in the realm of science. The possibilities were endless. So he would defy his parents, telling him that science is his dream. They thought it was a pipe dream at best, and that sports was his true calling. Eventually, after graduating high school, they caved in, helping pay for his post grad education. After years of studying different sciences, he would apply for a job at Gateway Labs, specifically in the field of cryogenics. Once hired, he would begin working out possible medical uses, to extend ones lifespan, or to maybe somehow cure disease. During an experiment of his, the cryotanks malfunctioned. Going towards the tank to shut it off, when he slips and falls into one of the tanks. To make matters worse, the lab was sabotaged by a suicide bomber, which resulted in the lab exploding. But by some miracle, he survived. There was a barrier of ice protecting him. He saw the sabotoeur on the floor. What made him do this? He wasn't sure what to do, but his hands felt really cold. He left, and as he walked, he would leave ice footprints. People looked at him strangely as he walked by, some even running away in fear. Upon arriving at his house, he went into the bathroom to check the mirror. No more normal Sergei Moroz. He now had pale blue skin, with frost around his eyes. His life wouldn't ever be the same. He would lose his job, so he wouldn't have a source of income. Still wanting to further himself, he would develop a suit with his remaining funds that he would use to commit crimes. The hood was to mostly hide his face, with the actual armour helping to keep his powers under control. He initially wanted to call himself Frostbyte, but he heard the name was taken in a different city, and he had no time to worry about a copyrights issue. So he began calling himself Doctor Frostbyte. As he was not very experienced in using his powers, he was locked up fairly quickly by the Judgement sector of Archon. After years of imprisonment, he would be sprung from prison along with a couple others in a prison break. The ones who freed him from prison had seen his escapades, along with his work at Gateway, and offered him a job. He would take it, and become part of the Mayhem organization. He would still search of a way to cure himself, as well as find the person responsible for his accident. He would develop a close friendship with Wilhelm Mercurius, the man who's also known as Apothecary. Mayhem promises that they will help him, so long as he keeps helping them.
Alias: Thrill Kill
Name: Drayton Cunningham
Gender: Male
Alignment: Villain
Backstory: Life was fairly ordinary for Drayton growing up. All the way through to the end of middle school, Drayton had everything. Family, friends, hobbies, along with his girlfriend at the time, Audrey Gonzalez. Of course, all good things can't last in Cardinal City.. When they were driving to the airport to go on their summer vacation, a semi truck came barreling through the intersection at very high speeds, collided into their car. Drayton's girlfriend Audrey was killed, and his mother lost all feeling in her legs. This was the first step in pushing Drayton over the edge. Next was the home invasion which happened a few years later. When his parents wouldn't cooperate with the demands of the robbers, they shot and killed Drayton's mother. First his girlfriend, now his mother. It was all coincidence, until Drayton learned that it wasn't. Through overhearing a conversation between his father and someone on the phone, he learned his father had planned it all, to gain the insurance money so he could run away from Cardinal City, with the stranger on the phone. Turns out, it was the twin sister of Drayton's mother. Enraged, Drayton would plan out months of revenge, training his body to be in top physical condition. The culmination of his plan resulted in him murdering his father in cold blood. He didn't have the power to save his girlfriend or mother, but he had the power to get revenge on his father. Mentally, he snapped. On the run, with nowhere to go, he would turn to Thrill. He would steal shipments of Thrill, even running into Crepuscule a few times. Barely making it out alive, he risked his life even more by taking more Thrill than one human should take. His powers would be activated by the mixture of his DNA and Thrill. He learned that he could phase through walls. Deciding no one should have to go through what he has, he began his killing streak, specifically targeting cheating fathers. This would lead to Crepuscule taking interest in this Thrill Killer, as she would read headlines of his recent kills. She would reach out to him, asking him to join her enterprise. After being on the run so long, scavenging for scraps, he told her he would join on two conditions. One would be supply of Thrill whenever he needed, and the other would be a place to stay, with food and everything. She agreed, and he would join the organization she's part of, called Mayhem, by being a bodyguard of sorts, while also getting rid of threats to the organization. He's encountered the Judgement branch of Archon, which includes fellow Thrill user Edge.
CASE 252#
NAME: Leonard Buzzard
ALIAS: BuzzKill, Fly guy , STUPID MOTHERF****** FLY , etc.
INFO:Leonard has always been a troublesome fellow , since the age of 5 he started eating flies , age of 7 he started burning them , age of 9 ... eating burned flies ... what pattern huh? Nowadays he buzzes around killing people as a mercenary .In a few years hes gonna end up eating burned dead people , but thats just my theory . He is strangly one of the "deadly 8" .
Boy the FearMaster has really messed up on that pick , right?
Still he should be feared since of his homemade shotgun buzz thingy , which frankly still hasent exploded , and his fly wing , that also "suprisingly" BUZZES AND THE BUZZING SOUND PROB. KILLS HIS ENEMIES FROM ANOYENCE , GOD STOP THE BUZZING PLEASE
SENTENCE: He was actualy incarcerated in the prison once but the guards were so anoyed of his buzzing they let him go.
STOP.THE.BUZZING.
====Arkham Asylum====
*Five years ago, the skies were filled with the reanimated corpses of the dead. As superhero and supervillain alike fought against them, opportunists- common with every Crisis, fled from their cells. One such case was Ted Carson. The one time successor to Garfield Lynns, Carson went by Firefly, and in a few short minutes, he too would perish, joining the Lanterns in the sky, killed not by the zombies or psychopaths all around, no, in ten minutes, Ted Carson would die in a car accident, the victim of a distracted driver. An ordinary death, for an ordinary man. But as he ran down those endless halls, avoiding The King of Cats' advances and Zodiac Master pleading for dating advice, he failed to notice the flash of light behind him, and following that- a man. Chronos. Out of time, and on a mission.*
Zodiac- Come back here I said! Please, five minutes is all I need! ... Was it the fan casts? Don't say it was the fan casts.
*It was the fancasts. Carson didn't have time to listen why Tommy Wiseau was ideal for a Freeze biopic, nor listen to Zodiac's desperate pleas for Magpie to love him, he had to get out of here. All those Arkham breakouts and not once had he ever been this close- He'd been thrown off a balcony when Bane attacked, been buried in debris during the earthquake and all the other times he had been simply forgotten. But this time he had a good feeling, he was scott free as far as he knew. Save for Music Meister, singing softly to himself, there was no one in his way*
Meister- If I could turn back time... If I could find a way, I'd kill all those who hurt me, yeah I'd slay...
*Meister notices Carson at the door and they exchange eye contact for a bit until at last he winks. Carson continues on his way, though rather confused, and Meister continues his singing, his gaze turned Chronos*
Meister- If I could turn back time, if I could find a way, I'd track down those that locked me here... If I got through these bars, I'd kill all of you, then the blood'd spill and spill, because I want it to... If I could turn back time, if I could find a way... just maybe, maybe, maybe they'd pay... If I got through these bars...
*Carson had made it. He could see in the distance the city on fire and he couldn't help but appreciate it. Alone, he let out a relieved chuckle, not aware of the rumble of a nearby car*
Miranda- Watch the road Drury
Drury- Just a jiffy Tiger Lily, hmm, on every channel...
*And then- Bang. Carson neither noticed nor cared enough to investigate. The city may be on fire, the dead may be rising from their graves, but that didn't matter to him, all that mattered was his freedom*
Carson- Free at last! Gotham will pay for ever forgetting me: Ted Carson! Ha!
*At the other end of that road- silence, save for the crackle of flames, and the cries of a very broken man*
Meister- If I could turn back time...
=====Now=====
*The gun felt wrong in his hand. It always did, even when he was shooting at the bad guys, even when it was on stun. Why was it, then, that for a moment, for the briefest of moments, he had wanted to pull the trigger. He could hear the faint voice of someone... his boss? (Since when had he had a boss?) spouting some curious fish metaphor to the would-be recipient of his gun.*
???- It's like they say- there's always a bigger fish, isn't there?
*Bound and on his knees, the captive before them shouted a number of expletives at him, the gunman, and his boss (that still felt weird). The red bandana wrapped around the top of the captive's head cleared the fog from Simon's mind enough that he realized he was about to kill his own grandfather.
Gaige- Come on then you fucking coward. Do it already!
*This should have surprised him more, but the half-hour long rant he'd unleashed upon Simon introducing Emi was deeply embedded in the lad's memory.
Emi... She was going to be so upset with him. He always got into trouble when she wasn't around, and this might just be his biggest screw-up yet.
Just before he moved to untie Grandpa Gaige, that voice, that layered voice, one that at first sounded pleasant, jovial, but was truly filled with malice and malevolence was heard from behind him*
???- Simon? Hell-o? I distinctly remember telling you to pull that trigger. We *are* on a bit of a tight schedule.
*Simon knew that voice from a lifetime ago: the Great White Shark. Why the hell was he here? It had been years since they last met, and Simon had thought, or moreso hoped, that Warren was unaware of his resurrection
"Sorry, sir," he said in part to stall, but the cold, calculating voice that emerged when he spoke...it scared him.*
White- And that's all well and good, but what are you waiting for? Need I remind you of the money I've paid you? Is this you asking for a raise because, heheh, let me tell you, I am not amused.
*And neither was Simon. This couldn't be right, he couldn't be working with the Shark. He made all his choices in that moment. Switching the gun to stun, he whirled and fired at the two thugs who flanked Warren,
White- What the *hell* are you-?!
*In one punch, the Shark fell to the ground. That wasn't right either. He was never that good, nowhere close. He continued to frighten himself.*
Gaige- Hope you weren't looking for a thank you.
*His job done, Simon holstered the lightning gun and turned around to answer, to make sense of all this, only to find that Gaige was gone, the window broken. It didn't take much to figure out what had happened, not when there was a shred of fine silk caught on the shards. And yet why? Simon had saved him, and they were family. He wondered if he was still angry about Emi. Ask Sionis or Nightwing, Gaige always did hold a-
Emi. She'd know what to do! Simon grabbed his phone from his belt, at least *that* hadn't changed, and yet- he almost dropped it upon seeing his reflection. He was wearing the original suit. The one he had changed after his... rebirth, the one that, in his mind, was his "villain" suit.
He'd have to worry about that later. He unlocked his phone, scrolled through his contacts, many of which he didn't recognise, and some he surprisingly did (what was Riddler doing in his contacts?), finding himself appalled at the startling lack of Emiko. No matter, he had it memorised. He made sure each digit was correct, then called. Nothing. No answer. Didn't even ring.*
Simon- Bugger.
=====
*It was going to be one of those days. He hadn't *meant* to kill that green grocer, it just sorta happened. That wouldn't make any difference to *them* though, he thought- those high and mighty- The sound of an arrow, the sharp kind, flying through the air broke his concentration. Super. Gotta keep running, god he missed the wings, they certainly made things easier... and the gun, he absolutely missed that malfunctioning piece of hardware... but most of all, he missed them- Oh, and his footing, he missed his-*
Drury- Bollocks.
*Either he was upside down, or the world was, neither option was preferable. And of course there they were, the heroes of the hour, he knew he would have beat them if Vertigo would just answer his calls... he should never have spammed the group chat, now only Red Dart answered and she creeped him out, not to mention she aped his style-*
*Drury looked up, well, down, to see them- the Green and Red Arrows, bows drawn. The red one, a girl smiles at him mockingly, putting on a ridiculously deep voice*
Red Arrow- Drury Walker. You have failed this city.
Drury- Yeah, yeah. Very witty "Funsize"
*Red Arrow lowers her bow for a second then turns to her companion*
..
Red Arrow- Can I shoot him?
*The emerald archer looks as though he's going to go into a long tangent about morality, but quickly stops himself*
Green Arrow- Oh you meant with-? Yeah, what the hell, we still have time... Nothing below the belt though.
*Red Arrow smirks, retrieving an all too familiar boxing gloved arrow from her quiver*
Red Arrow- Aw, you can be a real buzzkill sometimes...
*And so, for the second time that day, Drury mumbled "bollocks" to himself*
While i'm writing this I'm receiving phone notifications about the soon to be winter nightmare that once again will buzzkill spring for us Minnesotans. After a solid couple weeks of thawing temps I felt like shootin something like this. I shot everyone in my living room and actually fractured my foot shooting the car (Had a $6 piece of foam core attached to a stand that was about to blow over, as I went to grab it I rolled my ankle and foot and heard a super loud snap) limpin ever since, The background is a mess of outdoor local spots. Everyone around the fire was lit with a LP160 with a full cto fire direction. LP160 in gridded easybox right high for a moon light and another lp160 shoot thru umbrella for fill on the opposite side of the fire slighty off axis. The car was lit naturally except my neighbors in the townhome next door were ordering a pizza so there outside lights were on. So I parked my car sideways in the driveway and the orange glow on the rear panel is from that. Cooler guy and out house gal are lit the same minus the cto.. triggered with radio poppers.
.
Abandoned Abused Street Dogs.
To start off with please remember
I'm a Jungle Journalist that records
interaction with wildlife and all the dogs
that have been abandoned here. To define
what "Here" means is as follows ...................
Here = A brutal jungle environment where
your first mistake can, and often is, your very
last mistake ! Cobras, Pythons, Pit Vipers and
wild crazed aggressive Monkeys, plus insects
that carry a long list of deadly disease, Buzzkill !
And don't forget traveling down the worlds most
dangerous an deadly roads just to get to "Here !"
With that being said I'll be the first to admit being
an artistic or wildlife photographer is not my forte.
Caring for all the abandoned abused temple dogs,
recording the interaction through photography and
sharing the story with you is the main goal.
This photo was taken at The Dog Palace showing
no# 1 wife feeding a very sick baby boney boy.
On this day two important things happened.
Mama had her first and only litter of 6 beautiful
puppies sired by Big Mr Brown.
Boney Boy was found scared and shivering up on
the third floor, he was at deaths door.
We left with Boney Boy and went straight to the
dog doctor where he was put on medications.
From there we went straight home an introduced
Boney Boy to his new and forever home.
Soon as the doctors give my leg the ok to go
I'll be right back at doing the same same.
FYI: No# 1's in her early 60's I'm in my late 60's.
We'll continue doing this as long as we can for
the dogs sake and to share the saga with y'all.
Big Thank You 4 your donations and comments..;-)
Thank You.
Jon&Crew.
Please help with your donations here.
www.gofundme.com/f/help-for-abandoned-thai-temple-dogs
Please,
No Political Statements, Awards, Invites,
Large Logos or Copy/Pastes.
© All rights reserved.
.
Alias: Thrill Kill
Name: Drayton Cunningham
Gender: Male
Alignment: Villain
Backstory: Life was fairly ordinary for Drayton growing up. All the way through to the end of middle school, Drayton had everything. Family, friends, hobbies, along with his girlfriend at the time, Audrey Gonzalez. Of course, all good things can't last in Cardinal City.. When they were driving to the airport to go on their summer vacation, a semi truck came barreling through the intersection at very high speeds, collided into their car. Drayton's girlfriend Audrey was killed, and his mother lost all feeling in her legs. This was the first step in pushing Drayton over the edge. Next was the home invasion which happened a few years later. When his parents wouldn't cooperate with the demands of the robbers, they shot and killed Drayton's mother. First his girlfriend, now his mother. It was all coincidence, until Drayton learned that it wasn't. Through overhearing a conversation between his father and someone on the phone, he learned his father had planned it all, to gain the insurance money so he could run away from Cardinal City, with the stranger on the phone. Turns out, it was the twin sister of Drayton's mother. Enraged, Drayton would plan out months of revenge, training his body to be in top physical condition. The culmination of his plan resulted in him murdering his father in cold blood. He didn't have the power to save his girlfriend or mother, but he had the power to get revenge on his father. Mentally, he snapped. On the run, with nowhere to go, he would turn to Thrill. He would steal shipments of Thrill, even running into Crepuscule a few times. Barely making it out alive, he risked his life even more by taking more Thrill than one human should take. His powers would be activated by the mixture of his DNA and Thrill. He learned that he could phase through walls. Deciding no one should have to go through what he has, he began his killing streak, specifically targeting cheating fathers. This would lead to Crepuscule taking interest in this Thrill Killer, as she would read headlines of his recent kills. She would reach out to him, asking him to join her enterprise. After being on the run so long, scavenging for scraps, he told her he would join on two conditions. One would be supply of Thrill whenever he needed, and the other would be a place to stay, with food and everything. She agreed, and he would join the organization she's part of, called Mayhem, by being a bodyguard of sorts, while also getting rid of threats to the organization. He's encountered the Judgement branch of Archon, which includes fellow Thrill user Edge.
Status: One of Mayhem's foot soldiers, like Buzzkill and Deathstalker. Currently at large.
I honestly thought it said "you're in my grandma." I called my mother over to confirm. After we laughed ourselves to tears in the Hallmark store, Aziz came to the buzzkill/rescue, explaining that it says "you're in my [heart] grandma." It honestly took him telling me that to see that the heart was part of the message. Please design your angel kitsch more carefully, Hallmark.
Metroline route 316: Cricklewood, Bus Garage - White City, Bus Station
Ladbroke Grove Sainsbury's (U)
DEL2067 entered service on route 316 a couple of day ago, took a break from service yesterday, and was back in service today alongside DEL2068 on the route. Pictured is the latter, in which I took a short smooth cruise from Kilburn to Ladbroke Grove. Meanwhile, the former takes a break from service before covering a duty as an assumed spare for a couple of hours on the 112.
Personally, I prefer these on the 316 as opposed to the motorway routes 112 and 232. With these routes, as much as the prospect of being on a bus on a motorway is exciting, it is a buzzkill when you cannot feel the adrenaline of a fast bus because all other vehicles are going faster or the driver just isn't up to expectations. With the 316, however, it's more of a city route, so expectations for speed are lower thus it's easier to be impressed.
These new buses (DEL2062-2071) are allocated to Cricklewood (W) as part of the new contract to recently awarded Metroline route 112.
©London Bus Breh 2014.
"Oh, hey L-ana. What's up? I thought you wanted space?" I ask, slightly stuttering my words throughout. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Teresa's friends helping her up, making their way towards the bathroom. I open the nearby sliding door, and take a few steps out onto the balcony, with Lana following behind me. She suddenly stops, which causes me to almost slip when I turn around. Luckily, I'm able to catch myself before anything embarrassing happens.
"I thought that was what I needed Peter. Time to figure everything out. You left without so much as a goodbye.. I know you were probably off saving the world or something. But it just really hurt! I was alone, once again. Cheyenne left town, and Harry, well, did his best to move on. With everything that I've gone through with my shitty excuse of a mother, I didn't want to be left by myself again. And yet, I was alone. Alone to face the fact that my mother's now out there out of prison, raising hell, with no one to talk to about it. I mean sure, there's school councilors.. But they just don't get it, in the same way that you do. You see the best in people, even when they don't necessarily deserve it. I sure as hell didn't.. For everything I've done in my past as Bombshell. But you saw past it. You're the reason I was able to make it through that first day at Midtown, and the many days after it. I've come to realize that it hurts more not having you in my life. Talking about the silliest of things, like Sparkles, and other bizarre people you encounter. I miss it all."
"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't like it if you called him that to his face." I say, trying to lighten the mood, before continuing on with my train of thought. "I'm sorry Lana. I honestly am. If I could've said goodbye before leaving for two months, I would've. One minute I was on the subway, and the next I was somewhere else. Which is where I learned about the Spider-Verse. Thousands of different earths, all with their own Spider person. It all probably sounds like gibberish to you, and that's p-" I'm interrupted by her moving closer, kissing me seconds later. I can feel myself getting flustered, with my face going beat red. This is definitely not how I saw tonight going. Moments later, she pulls away from me, with the biggest grin on her face. I can't help myself, but look like a lost deer in headlights. Why'd she kiss me? I thought she only saw me as a friend... This is one time I'm glad I'm wrong.
"Was it really that bad?" She asks, her voice trailing off, as she looks down.
"What?! No, sorry. It just caught me off guard, that's all. Besides, if anyone were to screw things up, it would be me." I reply, trying to reassure her.
"Cause of that classic Parker luck, right? Well don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here with you till the end of the line. But please don't leave again, okay?" She asks.
"Glad to hear it! And I can't guarantee that'll never happen again, just due to the world we live in, but I'll do my best, okay?"
"Hmm okay.. Oh, and Peter?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you go out on a date with me?" That's a complete 180 from just a few hours before at school. That's quite the turnaround. Here I am though, giddy as a schoolgirl on the inside. She feels the same way.
"Uhh, yeah! If we're being honest here, I've uhm kind of had feelings for you for a while now. But I uh didn't think you felt the same though, so there wasn't a point in uhm bringing it up." And there's the stuttering once again. Great job Peter! Talking to her has never been this hard before.
"Awwh, you're stuttering. It's okay Peter.. Wanna go out on patrol or something? This party is kind of a buzzkill." She says, rolling her eyes at the thought of being here for another minute.
"Didn't seem that way when you were playing Mortal Kombat, but okay.. Could we get a rain check on that team up? It's just that I should probably make sure my sister gets home safe. Has had one drink too many. "
"Right, of course. Family comes first. I get it. Well, I'm heading out, so I guess I'll see ya tomorrow!" She answers, still smiling. Though, I can tell she's slightly disappointed. And no, it wasn't a spider-sense feeling. With that, she leaves. I head back inside, looking for Harry, but he's nowhere in sight. So I decide to call it early. I find my sister with her friends coming out of the bathroom.
"Hey, sorry to ruin what's clearly been a good time for all of you, but I think we should probably head out. Looks like she won't make it much longer anyway." They nod, as I help Teresa up. I have her leaning against my shoulder as we walk out of the mansion. I call a taxi, and about 10 minutes later, it arrives. Opening the door, I place Teresa in the back seat, making sure the seatbelt is fastened in. Getting in the car, I hand over what little money I have on me, but I quickly realize it's not nearly enough for the drive to the Hardy Estate. Just great.. Sure enough, about 10 minutes later, the taxi driver pulls over, and I get out. After opening the door, I pull her up so that she's back in the same leaning position as before.
--------------------------------------
45 minutes later, at the Hardy Estate
Finally we're here, and somehow I was able to get Teresa to her room, without Mrs. Hardy, or Aunt May noticing. Felicia catches us, but only smirks, before going back to what she was doing beforehand. Not really feeling all that tired myself, I head into my room afterwards, and start-up my computer. It's ridiculously slow and outdated, but it's better than nothing I guess. Time to figure out who this Brock guy is that mister Jameson was talking to. Brock, New York City, freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle. That's all I really know. Which means it takes me at least 30 minutes of research before anything of value pops up. I didn't get a really good look at the guy, but I'm pretty sure this is him. Edward Brock. Formerly a photographer for the Daily Globe.. Something about his photos being faked. I'm not able to get much more, as it turns out, I'm more tired than I initially thought. I end up falling asleep right then and there. Guess it makes sense, it's been a pretty long day..
THE DRUNKEN MUSE
The story "Drunken Muse" was audio recorded on a hidden voice recorder during the conversations about two decades ago. The story-teller didn't know or consent to the recording.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tape_recorder
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/8-track_tape
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Compact_Cassette
The audio tapes on compact cassettes were never used. The records were partially damaged and lost.
Herewith the unedited transcript version.
medium.com/paul-jaisini-paints-invisible-paintings/paul-j...
I am so pumped to get back to painting as I return to the second year of the art school after a full year suspension. As always it is like time-travel culturally speaking, like walking right into the middle ages going through the antique building’s portal.
Art studios are the huge L-shaped lofts with super tall ceilings 20 feet no less with the wall to wall windows so that sunlight illuminates the space from south and east side designed for the purpose so that one could paint there from morning till sunset.
In a studio there are classical gypsum sculptures, expensive copies of Venus de Milo, David, Laocoön and the others. In the art studio there stood the noses, eyes, lips, feet, and palms on the wood shelves.
Sketching the gypsum body parts helps you to build the classic academic base on which stands the whole modern and contempo art. This sort of teaching is specific for the art schools that preserve the traditions they had been founded on. There is only few art schools like this and of this caliber left now. Could be that this is the only legendary school that continues to function as if nothing had changed in the world. In the rest of the world with billions of some art classes nobody knows what does the old tradition of art school is for, its totally unfashionable.
Studying classic art (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Academic_art) here is the foundation for creativity in any of the art styles.
The smell of art is what defines the studio but not from human presence, something like an aroma reminiscent of the eastern market where smoke from hookaahs mix with the oil vapors, exotic fragrance from candles and spices. The Art Studios were never renovated since the times they were built over 150 years ago. The wood floors are saturated with art oils as if the floor is waxed with the organic oils from nuts, linen ( linseed oil, poppy seed oil, and so forth.) Adding to the mix the varnishes used by painters (pine wood varnish, Dammar varnish and others) It makes this ART SMELL to be the most intoxicating and ever-lasting musk.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oil_painting
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oil_painting - Ingredients
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Studio - Art_studio
The instance you enter the studio space you feel the belonging to a knighthood and the whole art history. You are the undivided part of those people who left their creation imprints.
Super pumped up after the long break up with the arts after my full year of non-stop party marathons I had returned to the bohemian life style.
Actually my other life style wasn't any different from the bohemian.
The only difference is that there is some meaning in the bohemian life style, something to create, to shape. Not just spend time doing sports and girls but something on a whole 'nother level only with the same sub text and by far more emotionally connected.
The bohemian I think is much more my thing, that fits me as a person. Maybe because my old man is the greatest sculptor.
He is color blind so apparently I took up the torch, I have a very special sense for color.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sculpture
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bohemianism
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Color_blindness
There could be an inborn human predicament or inborn genius.
I returned into the world to kiss its ground. I like everything about it, the babeville and its fashion circus.
The art students are known to come up with endless varieties of how to be stylish.
Take me for example, I am chilling in a suit jacket. It was professionally hand-tailored out of a denim Pajamas with stripes and starry silk underlining.
This “look” is completed by my python leather jeans. And over that an authentic LONG military Germany Waffen Elite Officer black Leather Coat from the WWII, only it is without a Swastika.
I never part with my large portfolio and a Field Easel.
EASEL
About 700 students attend the studies. The art school accepts only the best of best with few exception such as the kids of celebrity artists, writers and musicians and people who had real power in the city.
I wasn't enrolled for money or the A-lister parents, but for my talents. The Art specialty (painting, drawing, sculpture) teachers here are the world-wide recognized contemporary artists.
In a matter of my working ethics these important artists would point at me as the example of how fast I work, how well I sketch in color, how I always choose the most unexpected and unusual angle for my composition and so on...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Composition_(visual_arts)
name banner gif
Optical illusion geometric gif
(portraiture, still-life, and landscape)
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Still_life
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portrait
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Landscape_painting
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figure_drawing
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figure_painting
I never work on an académie (live drawing of a model, live painting of a model) the given eighty -- ninety hours. My whole process is about six -- nine hours to fully complete the work so I get out of the studio for some action and fun.
I’m probably the strongest in the class. My art professors know I don’t need to be there to distract the others.
When I’ve got nothing to do I start banging the head against the wall. Still I am criticized SUPER harshly for cutting the classes.
At this point I am not aware of the inner workings of “THE SYSTEM”.
I call suitcase with a secret compartment.
At the grade shows I only see the bad grades on my best artworks.
There is another side of the coin. It revealed in the future when I got to befriend a secretary at the Dean’s office. It was about the time of my graduating year.
The art teachers actually always considered me to be the leading artist among all students. They would grade all my artworks high on my personal record I knew nothing about.
That was how the art school’s system pushed the talented students to go further to open up their potential. Pushing to the limits of impossible.
I am harshly criticized for cutting a lot of classes.
There is another side of the coin. It will be revealed in the future when I got to befriend a secretary at the Dean's office. It was about the time of my graduating year.
The art teachers actually always considered me to be the leading artist among all students. They would grade all my artworks high on my personal record I knew nothing about.
That was how the art school's system pushed the talented students to go further to open up their potential. Pushing to the limits of impossible.
Willing or not but the doubts get in my head. I was thinking (rather frantically) that maybe I’m all just misguided. I will work to beef up my skills unable to accept that I am not really a “genius” artist. The bad grades were corrupting my vision.
Totally clueless that these bad grades in my case were used as "disciplinary measures" for my behavior of anarchy. These grades had nothing to do with my artworks.
And yet my best drawings and paintings are graded the lowest. At the same time the art professors are taking my works home. I always find empty walls where my works were displayed for the semester shows.
Sooner or later the missing artworks got me enraged. My classmates tell me the back story on what REALLY had happened.
All the art professors usually go the painting major's finals. So they just took my artworks right off the wall.
Ever since I heard this back story I flaunt how IDGAF to even pick up my works with the bad grades after the finals end.
Like a bunch of some doomsday looters in sight of an electronic store the art students same as the teachers vultured my artworks. Later some of my paintings and drawings were seen at the school's museum, especially the paintings.
The story of the artworks snatched off my exhibit wall developed further.
In the art school the art teachers are the privileged kind who exhibit regularly. All are the accomplished artists with big names.
Another thing about my artworks (no longer mine and in someone else's possession) is the story that involves someone with the top art rep being the art dynasty. Even so it happed that the leading art professor nicknamed Molly (for her annoying facial mole) used my art stuff to have her son who studied same years as me, just never expelled, to apply to an art academy with the highest qualification requirements. Molly's son portfolio sucked. To get him qualified to apply she gave her son all of my artworks she collected.
The juice was given to me by the reliable sources. The story was concurred by the eye--witnesses the students who were applying to the same academy together with Molly's son. Some of these students knew my work by the style, special color palette and the brushwork.
They all knew that Molly's son was using my artworks. He only had to forge his signature and remove mine.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Study_(art)
My drawings, sketches, paintings, watercolors are in "wide" use by others.
I tell that to describe the routine of my life.
It could explain why I was expelled three times for the chronic absence, for sabotaging the lectures -- getting my classmates to leave the studio and go to the movies or to the beach.
Fast forward to that event of the breaking point when I started to work systematically.
I was sucked into work as if a drug addiction. I was penetrating deeper to the very core of creativity. Reading books, going to the museums, working in the field, working in the museums to copy masters. I completely forgot all about life around me.
Practically I was devoured and digested with my nails and hair by that devil called the academic art. It sucked out the leftovers of my soul.
I stayed in the studio after the classes to work. There were only few students like this, spiritually close to me. To them it was their life style since the day they had entered the art school unlike me. Whenever I'd get bored with art I'd quit working and just leave without asking permission.
Now as if something had hit me hard and I started to really work. Most art students here typically come from such backgrounds when they did their baby steps and studied in the children's (secondary) art school from an early age and tutored by art teachers at home
I had a tendency to take on a higher complexity unprepared without the experience of any art school training (the eight years on a daily basic with teachers and methodical practice.)
As long as I remember myself I was drawing, during my school years, on the notebooks, with chalk on the asphalt, with stick on the sand. I did it subconsciously, not knowing what I was doing.
IDK, could be due to the several bad bike accidents when my head ended up hitting the brick...
Why did my brain moved into the direction of noticing those things that normal people should not be noticing? That the leaves on the trees are not at all green, but violet.
The falling shadows from the street lights are not at all outlined by black, the contours are the absolute blue.
The trees look like people.
There are so much more shades of colors that language could articulate.
Stuff like this filled up my head so that there was no place left for just a thought about girls, more so even the thoughts to manipulate my body functions. For instance using the
bathroom. I almost peed my pants. Truthfully I was on the edge of madness.
I remember how I hallucinated during my work imagining that someone had come into my studio and I spoke to "the guest." My brain was ill, there was no escape from that hell.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Violet_(color)
Once I was walking on a street without any awareness. My mind was no longer in command of anything accept the obsession with my painting. As I was pushing the limits of what was humanly possible in a matter of progress from the previous stage when I could draw and paint with intuitive results now I considered as totally armature waste of art materials. My condition would be hard to describe since I could hardly remember what was it like during that madly intense period. I know that I was working non--stop and did make some major break through. It worked but at the same time the progress turned its evil side, I wasn't able to stop even for a brief moment. Something happened to my otherwise incorruptible memory that I could only remember few things from that period. And one of those things was my death walk through the city streets on a day I was supposed to disappear.
When I realized that I was walking automatically, blind and incredibly
avoiding the cars, for the first time I felt the fear of madness that can easily take my life. It wasn't something I would fear if I was in my other life when loosing it would be quite an ordinary thing and not due to my lost mind.
Whatever it was I survived with no chances to stay alive that day. I had more chances to live on when I was shot at execution style, when I was drowning in bad storm, climbing on a building like a cat, and on many others such occasions.
Some guardian angel was looking over me as I came to the final moment of certain death, blind, deaf, disoriented and delusional.
As we finished with draperies, still life, gypsum figures we moved on to the nude. To draw and paint from the live sitter, male or female model.
There comes an old fat hag to be posed before the artists. She will be POSING even during the breaks. She sits professionally without a slight move of her flab folds for us to draw her “forms”. ‘assume it was done for the boys not to get distracted with the female anatomy.
The models with “rounded” forms were chosen so we would study the reflects and double reflects on a “sphere-like” and “cylinder-like” forms.
There would be plenty of the cast shadow (a type of shadow that is created on a form), and a drop shadow ( below the image).
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_human_positions
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Figure_study
The working objective was to concentrate on the drawing’s construction.
When we’d get a young female model, she’d be so skeletal that we studied the skeleton. This type of models was as unattractive as the fat ones.
The art students without an eye for a drawing and technique produced their works of caricature quality. With the lost proportions the models looked like animals, skinny chickens or fat frogs.
For me it was a serious job, body didn’t exist. I x-rayed the flubs of fat to see the bones to connect them to muscles, to build a form.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caricature
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skeleton
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_skeleton
The illness I call the overdose had progressed and my end was near.
Homies who knew me used to say that I was cracked.
When I moved from the classicism to modern (I refused to see any modern or contemporary art, never wanted to see it, or ever saw it) I entered the Modern art on my own, as my foot stepped into the forth dimension.
I entered the world of mad pressure. Good I stepped in it one foot yet.
I was sleeping in the studio right on the floor near my work and placed an electric heater near by.
It was impossible to heat up whole place where fifty heavy-duty easels only took a quarter of the studio space.
In the center there was a huge round stage made from a special hard wood to hold any number of models when needed for the multiple human-figure compositions.
The place was full of easels, portable and the large for the field. The chairs, tables, palettes, boxes with paint, cases with paper and lots of other art stuff piled up into mountains.
The parquet floor was always covered in fresh oil paints even though the teachers tried in vein to prove a fact that working neatly was by far more productive.
We had a dormitory built same year as the art school which was 150 something years ago.
If you stayed late in the studio that was forbidden, you couldn't get to the dorm.
A guard at the main door was a real watch dog, he faithfully guarded the pathway knowing every student's face.
The dorm was occupied by those who couldn't pay for a room or the apartment in the city.
Ten beds were squeezed in a dorm room.
This part of the antique building was never renovated probably b/c it was planned to be turned into more art studios.
But since there were out of town students who had no place to live they were given a place in this dorm.
The beds were of a good prison-like quality so the survival was possible. Another thing is what was happening in the dorm.
On a typical day nobody there had any money left after the expensive art materials. Not a penny to get high. Alcoholic liquid (40-60%) was soaked into the bread.
From one bite of that bread you could instantly drop dead as if your legs got cut off by a train.
The receptors inside the nose absorb the fumes to hit right into the brain, this way the booze doesn't ever enter the digestive system and blood.
It kills or makes one go bonkers.
Some pissheads in desperation poured vodka into a wine bottle cap to inhale it like coke. After one cap screw it was a total alchoholocaust.
There were many ways of economizing: to use a medical thin rubber tube to suck the drink very slowly, one bottle would
serve four alkies.
It was the usual schizophrenic day for me. I had my dose of coffee and ate on a way to the studio.
Those days I didn't miss a class afraid to get expelled for the last and final time.
I couldn't understand this thing about my artworks. Why did my classmates literally begged on their knees to have the C-graded artworks I was never satisfied with.
It became my trade mark to give away all of my stuff left and right. I didn't know why I let go of my drawings and paintings so easy. Now I regret that. It would be interesting to see the growth.
Once I happened to tell a guy from my class who worked very hard on his drawing (he wasn't a good draftsman): "Oh Wow! you are doing a lot of progress, buddy, congrats!" I looked at his portfolio and pointed at a piece: "This drawing here is really mature and quite interesting, you achieved volume and air in just a linear drawing."
The guy suddenly goes red, stares at me wide-eyed with anger or confusion I couldn't quite understand...
"Am I saying something wrong?" I asked.
"You're fucking dissing me!" He answered.
"Why?" I wondered.
"This is YOUR drawing," Was the answer: "I took it, that is when I asked you and you gave it to me, don't you remember?"
I didn't recognize, didn't see my signature, as it was overlapping the drawing.
The guy was holding a grudge for this but it didn't turn him into one of my enemies.
At some point I am thankful to the teachers for their sneaky methods and experience on how to tame the most unruly and bring them into the art's stable. On the other hand these people were like sadistic fascists who used their special gases on me experimenting, would I survive it and live on.
The bohemian hyped up life only started after the classes at about seven in the evening. This part of the artist's life was full of sex, booze, and drugs, more sex booze drugs and orgies. The art youth was progressive, the sex - communal with the conveniently shared girlfriends and boyfriends.
Strangely the good times didn't concern me anymore now.
There was a small group of idiots who followed their criteria of achievement: to draw and paint a vase with flowers so that it comes to life, right out of the canvas to the carrying hands of the one who painted it. The flowers turned alive would be given to the girl/boyfriend.
The madness of the 4th dimension.
The art group was lead by me and another guy soon (one month later) to disappear forever for the reasons unknown.
After the classes me and few others searched for a studio. Found it. Not my studio. Any studio with the door unlocked.
As usual I would set a still life. Take off my nazi coat.
Set my next canvas on the easel to start quick sketching.
Out of nowhere shows up some dude who was a new student, he was much older, about twenty three, somewhere from Texas and just plain untalented.
He wanted to hang around with "the power-group" to learn.
There were few girls with the ambition to reach the level of a manly hand in creation.
We all usually worked in grave silence and even a slight noise would be extremely annoying.
If a brush would fall it seemed the atomic bomb had exploded somewhere near. We would exchange vicious cursing at the jittery creaking sneezing noise maker.
When you are focusing intensely and can't quite catch the brush stroke to complete the shaping of a form so that the image would turn real and come out of the flat surface the nerves are high strung to the limit.
The last months I just never left the studio, didn't even come outside. Slept on my German coat in the corner. It was veiled with the drapery. I'd wake up in the morning. The doorman was already used to give me the keys knowing that I sleep and work there. It came with a warning that if I am discovered I must tell any story and solemnly kept the secret.
The memories from those years distract me from telling what I want. It's about the event that had closed for me the entry into the forth dimension.
That day I was getting upset over some stupid teases: "What had happened to you!"
Whether the bros wanted to elevate my mental state, or they needed to get my works it had really caused me distraction. I was focusing on my work. Suddenly I hear the sounds of music in the studio. It jumped me: “Are you out of your fucking minds? That asshole doorman will come here."
"No he ain’t gonna."
"Why?"
"He is passed out, we had to carry him away." Was the answer.
"What is going down?" I worried.
"Not much, nothing is going down, we just want some fun. The way it is on here is so buzz-killing."
Was it some holiday, I didn’t know. Holidays passed by me, I didn’t smoke or drink and only worked. What they were saying didn’t reach me.
“Shut down the music. You’re gone but I must sleep here."
"Why must you sleep here?" Asked Lorenzo (nick-named after his personal preferences of the Benzos)
"Hmm, I guess there will be no way of working today?" I asked.
"Working, way working, you gonna make me some home works," Assured me the dude nicknamed Kuz. "For that I will make your sculpture complete."
As interesting as it was to play with the real forms in sculpting I disliked dealing with the clay. Those times I believed the painting to be so much more in gradations, possibilities and complexity. Now I changed my mind to consider any art media possess the unlimited possibilities.
I agreed. Suddenly the guys were fixing to leave and I had to ask: "So? Who will finish building up the sculpture if you're leaving?"
"No worries, will build it up, brb just a quick run for some booze before the stores closed up."
"What booze? Get out of here go to another studio. I work, don’t mess me up."
"No biggie, son, you can rest for once."
It was pointless to argue, they'd already been drunk and I was only getting nervous. My work wasn’t going good at all. I have changed the lighting set up many ways in vein.
Suddenly, out of nowhere Muse appears. A young, very-very attractive girl about eighteen. The returned gang introduced her to me:
"J-Sin, meet her... lets say Nicky."
"Eh, hello Nicky, who and what are you?" were my greetings.
She smiled to everyone and answered: "I will be posing for you today."
"We agreed about everything, will pay the price,” –explained Lorenzo barely moving his tongue, "She is gonna be happy!"
His bag full of bottles made loud clanking noise.
When the drunks got them out I counted six.
“Yes, this is going to be a wild night.” I was thinking what to do now. I approached the model, took off her coat and hanged it, removed her blouse and explained that she can go behind the curtain.
"Hey, hey! What curtain son, what’s with you? She is from the med school, our people!"
I heard the Kuz's inebriated voice. "She is THE model!"
"What -- nude?" I wondered.
"And what did you think, she'd sit covered up in here?" They burst into laughter.
Suddenly I feel elated with the anticipation of the new and amazing subject for the work. I was fed up with the poor set up and the struggle to "find" the good lighting for the gypsum head. How wonderful it turned out that I could make some picturesque oil sketches.
When the model took off her bra, her young breasts, her nipples instantly distract my attention from work.
Shit, I couldn’t focus. Since we hadn’t a glimpse at such models it was too interesting. Could be that something about this evening or the environment was different. First time in a long while the music was playing, the glasses jingled and filled up with wine.
As she posed we were all doing the quick sketching. She removed everything except her panties.
The drunken assholes wouldn’t let me focus.
"Let me finally have a chance to work." I yelled getting distracted.
They seemed to try bargaining: "We brought you the model, hey girl turn around!" Kuz pulled up her skirt and slapped her buddy. "Look at these buns, you've got to do another
drawing for the semester show."
"Boys, you are so bad!" She giggled to Kuz. "I will spank you for being soooo bad!" And she was laughing in most contagious sexy trills of her childish capricious voice.
I didn’t understand what these die--hard drunks were doing at the art school, without any talent or interest in art. My former palls in another life that was long forgotten. Today the serious artists who always worked together with me had left the moment this bad company swam by.
Now I was looking at their watery eyes winking at the model. They caressed her things as she reclined on the wooden stage to rest. I wanted to figure out why did they distract me even more now?
I was the same age as the model. I didn’t see her body, to me now it was the model for painting.
It was getting late when the cold winds penetrate the place from the drafty wall size windows. I put on my sweater in the starting freezer. The one meter or the three feet and 33/8 inch walls are like the thermos to absorb and hold the cool temperature. I looked at the laughing bunch who labored on my sculpture.
One was drawing a huge flying dick with wings with a charcoal right on a white wall.
I had finished sketching the figure. I came up to the stage to set up the heater. I asked the model if she could sit some more taking breaks whenever she needs to move.
When she looked at me she was constantly smiling.
"Sure she’ll sit! And she'll lay, right, sweet buns?"
I held my breath working imagining how awesome would be to have such a model every day. With a shaky hand I was working fast as a machine expecting any minute now she would say that she is too cold to sit another minute and she leaves, its all over. I will have to kill her and sit her lifeless body on a chair to complete my work.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!"
The heater I placed caused the red reflexes on the body. I was painting and had to get the color right. So I removed the heater. The model immediately complained about the cold. Kuz brought her a glass of wine asking me why did I remove the heater.
From wine her face flushed red. I tried to adjust the color scale, laying brushstrokes over the whole figure.
Meanwhile the music turned up it was getting real loud.
The model took her break.
I walked after her studying her forms.
"Is something wrong?" She asked.
"Its all right, could you turn this way."
"Oh, I see. Same in our med school, the nut cases," She openly declared to the others when I was on a floor looking from a lower viewpoint.
"Who is this?" She asked: "What kind of a mental is he?"
"Its a disease, but it will pass" – was the answer for her. "Sometimes it is terminal. Not his tho, his will pass, he loves the young girls very much…"
Something from the stupid jokes had reached me.
"Hon, now he needs the medical attention. You are the medic? We are forever in debt to yous for allowing us come to the mortuary and for helping with the dead bodies... What we have here is a zombie. You are the goddess who saves the body as your calling."
What I heard was polluting my pure artistic brain with that life I refused. Now I was paying attention not to the mammary glands but to her breasts. Her back muscles are slightly weak. As I looked over the skeleton the muscles slowly disappeared. No matter how hard I tried to focus my x-rays were weakened. Maybe the electricity turned off inside my head.
"Pour me some," I asked.
Six months of my immaculate virginity and celibacy was broken by a wine glass. The red wine like the blood of innocents was running in my throat filling up the brain that shortly was boiling with vigor. So I said:
"Could you please remove your panties?"
"It wasn’t the deal," protested the model with her eyes glowing like honey.
Lorenzo interrupted her:
"For god’s sake, take of your panties, what is it to you, aren't you a medic?"
"I thought someone here was shy, as for me" She lustfully licked her lips. "Well, of course its nothing."
"Who is shy?" Asked someone.
"Him the weirdo!" She giggled in a very cute bubbly little voice.
"Are you shy?"
"It seems it was me who asked her to remove the panties." I explained.
She just jumped right out of her panties not without pleasure it seemed.
I imagined how to position her, what pose should she take.
"Hey!" I asked Kuz to pour me another glass. He was cheering me on yet reminding that I should first finish the drawing.
"Later," I mumbled turning to the model: "Would you please sit on a chair and spread your pretty legs a little, as much as you wish."
"Hey, Alex, so he is normal?" She asked.
I was far away from normality. A actual girl weaved from the reality. But the process was a transformation with splitting dimensions.
She was turning more real when I touched her to show how to position her legs.
I glimpsed at the red pubic hair seeing the pink flesh of her vaginal lips.
I couldn't focus on my work. Could the “female anatomy” destroy the temple of magic I was erecting for the eight months?
I returned to my easel and continued working. She was fidgeting changing poses uncomfortable this something hurting that... But it was only natural, she was sitting naked on a plain hard wooden chair. She was sliding from one side of the chair to another. I was buzzed from wine and couldn’t work, but I tried to complete my work just to annoy these assholes who screwed up my day. First work was washed off with turpentine and I wiped up the canvas dry with a rag.
I was sketching now not with a charcoal but brushing in umber. It resulted in an interesting tonality and I was captured again. The model squirming on her hard chair complained.
"Yo, why don’t you lay her down, what is she suffering for?" Asked Alex, "Lay her the fuck down, why not."
Right! I thought a little and told her to lay on the stage. Underneath her I spread some drapery.
After few wine glasses I took off my sweater, my cheeks were on fire. Hers too. I unbuttoned my shirt, my blood was boiling, the body was washed with the warmth.
The heater was moved away.
"So true that wine warms you up," she said to Alex.
"Jay, so tell me how to lay her down there. Sit, sit, you poor thingy, I'll assist you" And he jumped on the stage. "Do you want her legs spread this way?" he asked opening
up her legs so that her whole anatomy was showing.
"Is this ok for you?" He winked at me: "Is it good?"
"Oh no, can’t show it like this at the mid-semester show." Thinking some I added: " Let it be, lift her leg a little higher, like this. Turn her head down."
"Like this?" He kissed her on the lips.
"Alex, the fuck you're doing, I don’t have any time."
"Work, keep drawing, go on!" he said. "We won’t disturb you."
I was outraged after I just washed everything off my canvas ready to work, but this wasn't going anywhere. I kept asking Alex what did he mean by not disturbing me when he messed everything up. I heard the girls laughing trills. "For real, he is ill!"
"The sick can be cured." Insisted Alex. "Will hill him." He slurred.
Of course, I own them my very life. If it weren't for them –- that’s it, finito.
Kissing her on the lips and winking at me Alex continued bugging me: “Is this right?”
For like ten minutes I was staring in the infinity in the emptiness… Then I yelled: "Why are you sucking her? Get away from her, let her lay there quietly."
Only to hear some nonsensical mumbling.
"But I want you to work on the position, is this position right?"
"Right, just fuck off of her."
Meanwhile Kuz, I noticed, was taking off his pants. He said: “Let him go fuck himself. Motherfucker is gonna fuck us up today, if he doesn’t want it, so fuck it.”
Now I thought I knew what they wanted from me.
I saw Alex’s naked butt as he laid on the stage, banging the girl and his ass wiggled.
I started sketching their nude asses.
My consciousness was still in the process of transforming.
I thought of how interesting were their poses.
Lorenzo came up to me and took the brushes from my hands placing all in my field easel he closed up.
"Listen, J-man, you’re being a fucking buzzkill. Go draw some vases, fuck off to another studio. You don’t want it. For free?"
I didn't understand him what did he mean. He explained:
"What do you see Alex is doing right now?"
"He is fucking his girlfriend." I said.
Lorenzo continued:
"Whose girlfriend? What we have here is a
scientist, from the med school who is helping us in our artistic quests, to understand the core of anatomy not only from the outside but from the inside. I recommend you, in order to comprehend, as you must know, you can only know the truth from the inside, experiencing the inside, to understand the outside. That’s why I seize the brushes. Here is another glass of wine. Drink!"
I looked at him as a doctor listening to his drunken bullshit.
"The most important thing for you is to understand from the inside. See, you can’t understand it from the outside, it’s not how things are done."
"Yes knowing the internal anatomy helps, take a muscle, body doesn’t exist without muscles." I agreed.
"Hell yeah, yeah… ha ha…that’s what I am going about. Look how Alex is working how he is learning."
I looked at the bare ass's motions back and forth, at the girl who was lifting her legs and actively moving her hips. Alex jumped off, wiped up his cock with the drapery, he also wiped out the girl. “Who is next?”
Kuz was kissing her from one side, when Lorenzo said:
"He worked very hard today, he must learn from the inside. You see, because he just can’t break through the inside."
When Kuz was mounting her, Lorenzo spanked him loudly:
"You can wait, the man needs the muse, get it? Understanding the Muse comes only from the inside.." They all bust into laughter.
Lorenzo nearly helped my cock inside the girl cheering on: "Just do it, little one, everything is gonna be great. Honey, turn him back into a soldier that we've lost."
"The man is gone, the man known yesterday is not the man you meet, forever, around the corner, in London or in the street..." chanted Nick appearing from nowhere. He continued slurring his poems.
Hearing the noise I didn’t know what’s going on as I kissed her breasts.
"Feel the forms." I heard the racket near by as I was buzzing off the wine and licking the girl's body. On the other side Lorenzo had joined in groping her breasts. To be more at ease I moved her body closer to the stage’s edge. I was on top.
I didn't hear any sounds of music, the entry door was covered with the draperies as the orgy just steamed up for the whole night.
I woke up on the stage from loud knocking.
The art students asked me what happened to the busted still life set.
I exhaled my dragon breath to hear no more questions. Took my coat and left the building. Walking the street I met Alex.
"Your face is not yet blushed, your eyes are a bit foggy, can’t say anything after the sleepless night. Like Cures Like."
He grinned getting money out of his pocket. "Let us get some treatment."
We walked to the known spot for aching heads gathering.
It's that time of year again, when those of us that have broken the rules get dropped down to Terra, where our fate is unknown. Most dread it, as no one has ever come back. Me on the other hand? I'm excited. Besides being trapped in a dropship, with hundreds of other criminals. I mean, I finally get to see the planet that I've only heard about through the various stories my mother told me when I was younger. It's a story that's been told through generations of my family, as Terra has been uninhabitable for hundreds of years. The radiation levels are just too high from the fallout of a nuclear war. The war to end all wars, at least, that's what I've been told. But everyone holds out hope that if we wait long enough, up here in Noa Prime, hoping the radiation will just magically disappear. Maybe it will, maybe it won't. Guess I'll find out for myself soon enough.
Here I am, in my cell, laying down on the ground, with only a bouncy ball in hand. Have to pass the time somehow, though it gets boring after the first five minutes of throwing it against the wall, but what else am I gonna do in here? Sorry, but I'm not one for reading books, and my requests for anything else gets declined. The life of a deviant I guess.
I notice as the door to my cell opens soon after, with two men walking in. One of them I recognize as Officer Wythers, as his black bushy beard is hard to forget.
"Officer Wythers! Always a pleasure! Take your pills today? Cause you know how cranky you get without them." He grunts, as the guard with him walks towards me.
Guard: "Deviant 1-2-9-2-7, place your hands behind your back and face the wall." Ah yes, my lucky number. I follow the guards instructions, and within seconds of placing my hands behind me, the handcuffs lock into place.
"It's Sebastian." I say, correcting him on his mistake. Officer Wythers and the guard just ignore me, as we walk out of my cell, and through the prison hall.
Cellblocks on Noa Prime are divided into various sections, depending on the crimes committed. For example, thieves and vandals are held in the Deviant cellblock, so we are considered Deviants. Then there's Roaches, Slayers, the Digitals, Forsaken, Abnormals, the Expired, and many others that I haven't had the luxury of dealing with. Some of the names make sense, while others are hard to figure out at first glance. As we are walking out of the Deviant cellblock, and towards the shuttle bay, I see other prisoners. Some like me, and some who are completely different from me. Then there are those that are prisoners just by being alive. With limited resources on this space station, the Brain Trust decided on a maximum of one child per family policy. Those that violate those laws, are either imprisoned, or executed. Obviously, I don't agree with it, as some of the best people I have come to know in here are second born. It's not their fault. But unfortunately, the only ones that get to decide what's best for us are the Brain Trust. I'm able to spot my friend Seffora in the crowd of people preparing to board the dropship, mostly thanks to her bright green hair, which happens to be past her shoulders in length. I think this is the first time she's ever had her hair down, as every time I've seen her, she's had it up in a ponytail.
"Hey Seff! You're getting dropped down too?" I ask, as I catch up to her. It's at this point that Wythers, and the guards back off, observing us from a safe distance, just incase someone tries to cause a scene.
"Yeah. Lucky us." She says in response, as she rolls her emerald eyes.
"Just think of it this way. If we don't somehow die upon impact, or the radiation, we are free to do whatever we want! A whole new world to explore!"
"Still a half glass full kind of guy I see. The odds of that happening are very low. Besides, there's probably no technology left down there, which is a buzzkill in itself."
"It's better than being locked up." I say bluntly, as we enter the dropship, and follow the other prisoners to our seats. It's ten minutes or so before the dropship doors close, and lift off of the landing pad.
Here we go. Hopefully, I'll survive this, but I guess we'll find out soon enough.
---------------------
Our dropship detaches from the hangar bay, and starts drifting towards Terra. Everyone looks relatively calm, at least, for now. It's still hard to believe, that in a few minutes, we'll be on Terra.. I don't have much in the way of a view outside, as the only window is on the opposite side of this compact dropship. Doesn't help that they crammed literally hundreds of us in here. As we enter the atmosphere, the mood shifts, panic starting to set in. The constant jagged movements is enough to knock me out, as my head hits a metal pipe, before losing consciousness
Here I am, in English class, listening absent mindedly as Mr. Lee drones on. I glance at my phone, checking reddit updates every now and then when he isn't looking directly at me, seeing if there's any updates on the Elite. Sure enough, the police have found their most recent victims, the Gang. I recall Kara talking about facing off against them a few months ago, back in October. While yes, the Gang were criminals, they didn't deserve this. Very much in agreeance with my sister on this one. Need to find the Elite, and stop them, fast. These pictures definitely aren't safe for work, or in my case, school. Naturally, it's at this point Mr. Lee catches me.
"Something on your phone more important than what I've got to say, Mr. Danvers?" He asks, which causes some of the class to snicker.
"Huh? Oh, it's nothing at all. Sorry sir." I apologize, trying to save face. I turn off my phone, placing it back in my pocket, before looking back towards the front of the class.
"You're damn right it's not." Mr. Lee remarks silently to himself, which catches me off guard. I think that's the first time I've heard him use what is it that humans call it? Right, a curse word.
"Smooth." Shane sarcastically remarks, silent enough that no one but me would hear it. I give him a quick glare, with him shooting me finger guns before I look back at my notes.
The loud ringing of the bell goes off about 10 minutes later, signaling the end of class. My text tone goes off, and so I pull out my phone. And it's a text from dad.
Dad: "Just so you know, your Uncle Fred and his family are in town and that they've decided to come by for a visit. They'll be here soon. And since they've never met you or Kara..." Well, I'm glad he warned me. It would've been embarrassing to fly home, and outing my powers. Guess it's a bus day today after all.
I start typing my response. "So no powers... Got it. I'll let Kara know."
Dad: "Glad you understand. It's already going to be hard enough explaining everything as it is now. And if they learned of your powers? That would be a whole 'nother can of worms."
"Yea, I gotcha. It's all good dad. Anyways, I gotta get going to my next class. See ya when I get home. Love yah."
Dad: "Love you too, son. Also, I have a surprise for you later. After they leave, of course."
I put my phone away, as I make my way to Photography class. Can't lie, I'm a little nervous now. The thought of meeting family I've never met for the first time. I'm sure I'll have knots in my stomach. Dad speaks highly of them too. His brother Fred, my aunt Sylvia, and their daughter Alex. Then there's the surprise. Whatever that entails... I honestly have no idea what to expect, since it's not close to any holiday, or my 'birthday'. But I guess I'll find out soon enough. Need to check in with Kara at some point to work out our next move to finding the Elite too.
-------------------------------------------
Later
"I'm a little bit nervous."
"Why? They're family."
"To Jeremiah, yes. But we don't know them, and they don't know us. And one slip up could lead to our secrets being exposed." Kara replies, in a hushed whisper, making sure nobody else on the bus can hear her.
"I know you've been pretty stressed out recently, but you've gotta chill. We've done this plenty of times beforehand. We got this." I say, trying my best to reassure her, giving her a thumbs up. Even though I'm feeling just as nervous, I have to be the strong one for once.
"Hear anything from the D.E.O.?" I ask, after a few moments of silence.
"Simon took a look around for anything that could be of use, but didn't come up with much of anything. Other than that, it's been pretty much radio silence from them. Though given recent events, I wouldn't be surprised if that was intentional." She replies, looking down, as the bus starts to slow down, stopping soon after. Looks like it's our stop . The doors open up, and students start filing out. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I make my way to the front of the bus, and out the door.
Stepping out onto the pavement, I start walking home. It's only a few minutes away from the bus stop, but that's okay. Kara remains quiet as we walk home, so I put my headphones in and start listening to music, occasionally grooving out to the beat as I walk.
As we round the corner, I notice an unfamiliar car pulling into our driveway.
"Well, here we go I guess." I say, with a very noticeable gulp following it. Hopefully meeting the family goes well.
--------------------------------------------
Elite Safehouse
Here we are, the team celebrating their most recent kills. Hat's drinking, as per usual, and Assassin's blasting the music. Even Vera and Mirabai are unwinding in their own ways. But I, Claire Selton, also known to the team as Volcana, don't feel good about any of this. Being used as government pawns, to get rid of their problems. Celebrating murder, consequences be damned. Not cool. I know the people we've killed are truly terrible people, but even then, that's not justification to just kill them all. But it was either this or stay at the Center of the Paranormal Studies. And I just wanted to be free of that hell. Being poked and prodded at by needles... 'Tests' almost every day. Just one twisted routine day in and day out.
"C'mon Selton, loosen up a little."
"Pass." I say with a sigh, rolling my eyes at him. I'm all for a good time, but not like this. "Besides, you have pretty shitty taste in music." I mutter to myself, with no one else hearing it.
"Buzzkill," He mutters, before going back to taking shots with Hat.
"Why are we still in this backwater town anyways? Of all the places we could be, we chose this. " Mirabai all of the sudden pipes up.
"Well there wasn't much choice in the matter. It was either this 'backwater town', or Metropolis. And I'm sorry, but I'd rather we didn't face off against big blue himself. Besides, public opinion of us here is rather high now, due to our recent exploits."
"Yeah, that didn't work out so great for your brother." Assassin snickers.
"Shut up!" She snaps, giving him a cold glare before recomposing herself.
"But there are still those two other Kryptonian heroes here in this 'backwater town' that we have to worry about."
"They're just kids. Inexperienced, and easily manipulated by their emotions. I'm not too worried. They aren't Superman. Besides, the public's realizing the truth for themselves. That those two aren't capable of being the heroes the city needs.
"So who's next on the hit list?" Mirabai bluntly asks.
"Down to the point. I'd expect nothing less from Mirabai the Forlorn. But I'd rather not ruin this good time we're having with tomorrow's problems. So, we'll talk about our next move tomorrow.
"Fine." Mirabai mumbles, before everyone gets back to the 'celebration' at hand. I don't know how much longer I can go along with this 'New Age of the Elite' crap.
------------------------------------------
Undisclosed Location
"Why exactly are we here? As I've told you many times, this isn't the way to the Fortress." Henshaw asks, his voice getting progressively louder.
"Settle down Henshaw... This is just a pitstop."
"For what? You haven't been very forthcoming with information." Henshaw sneers, as we make our way through this old laboratory.
"Ah here we are... Project Atlas." I announce, as we enter the next room. Inside, is a containment pod, with him still inside. I place my hand on the circle that's directly in the center of the pod, which causes it to open up moments later. Inside the pod, is a man, a Daxamite man to be precise. Another addition to the Worldkillers.
"Start talking, now." He seethed.
"Atlas. Rumor has it that he's a hero of undefined time. To be more specific, he's a Daxamite. An alien species relatively similar to Kryptonians, with some key differences. Anyways, he has travelled through time consistently, using Time Pool technology. But the moment he travelled to this time, he was locked away by the government. His strength rivaled Superman's. And the hope was, that if Superman ever went to the dark side, they'd use Atlas here to take him down. But they've just let him rot away here, for years. However, what's their loss, is our gain."
"I'll be the one to kill Superman. Not this-- science experiment" " Henshaw responds, his voice bellowing throughout the room, as he slams fist against the wall.
"You're one to talk." I say with a laugh. Regrettably, Henshaw didn't find that very funny, and his eyes start glowing red. "It was just a joke! Though I realize how bad of an idea that was. That's beside the point though. We need him for what lies ahead." I say, trying to defuse the timebomb that is Cyborg Superman before he tries to blast me apart. Not that he actually could, as I'm more durable than I look. But I'd rather avoid any unnecessary interruptions. Thankfully, Henshaw stands down, and his eyes go back to normal. Well, whatever constitutes as normal for him...
"I fail to see why... I'm more than a match for the Fortresses defenses. But fine, so long as I get what I want." He growls.
"Yes, of course. You will get your weapon and will be the one to kill Superman. Don't worry, that hasn't changed." I acknowledge.
Surprisingly, it's at this point that Atlas finally awakens. We're almost in the endgame now. Soon, they will be free. I haven't forgotten my promise. I will be reunited with you once again, my beloved.
I hate my stupid father, this stupid island, his stupid company, this stupid totem thing we’re looking for. This sucks. I just want to go back home and hook up with some hottie. Seriously, why the heck am I even here? This sucks. My dad sucks. Screw him; he doesn’t even want me to be his son. I hate him. I hate this. I just want to get out of here.
Robert Queen: “Come on boys, we’re almost to the monastery. From there we’ll meet Jansen, and he’ll tell us where we should look for the totem. Today, today is a great day!”
Shut up. Get your stupid totem and let me leave, please. This is stupid.
Tommy: “You ok? Still mad at him?”
What do you think? Yea, I’m mad. I’m extremely mad. Ok? Good? Shut up.
Tommy: Yo, calm down man. I get it, you’re pissed. But come on, you really just gonna mope about it? Do something about it. Show him you’re worthy.”
By what? Being a totally bookie buzzkill like Simon? Screw that man. What’s the point of life if you can’t have fun?
Tommy: “Let’s be honest here, neither of our parents will let us live in their inheritance for the rest of our lives. We’re gonna need to live in the real world at some point man.”
Which is why I’m gonna go to college, and I’m gonna kill Simon so he doesn’t take my money.
Tommy: “Calm down dude! I get you’re mad, but still. Relax!”
Robert: “Mr. Jansen! An honor, an honor.”
Jansen: “Same to you, Mr. Queen. It is wonderful to see you again. Brought some friends along with you?”
Robert: “Yes. My accountant, Simon Lacroix, my son, Oliver, and his good friend Thomas Merlin. They will be joining me on my expedition."
Jansen: "Excellent. If you will follow me this way I can show you to the caves where we believe the totem is found."
Screw you ching chong guy. Ooh, hello there beautiful. I'm impressed. Didn't think asian chicks had boobs. Niiiice. I could settle for her, that's for damn sure. Screw you guys, I'm getting a babe! Wonder where she's headed. Oh don't give me that look Tommy! She's got boobs! Yes, boobs, making stupid hand motions, ok. Cool. Lets go go!
I get first dibs, I saw her first bro! But maybe we'll get lucky and she'll have a hot sister.
Tommy: "Greedy much? Ah what the heck. You're the one who needs it right now"
____________________________________________
Part of Vol. 1: the Arrow Clan Totem
Quite happy with the build on this one personally, but tbh this issue is really just filler that I can't avoid. Oh well, I hope you enjoy it anyway
CSAO MO-33 coasts over the Delaware River into Morrisville with CSX GP40-2 duo 6220 & 6240 returning lite from Certified Steel in Trenton.
I haaaate being sick!!! I missed Vampire Weekend at Red Rocks AND the Tour De Fat AND the CSU vs. CU game. BuzzKill!
BUT I am finally feeling better so thats a plus! :D
Much Love,
T-Sil
With a cargo bay stuck in the middle, the Blacktron Buzzkill becomes a Blacktron Invader. I've built this in real parts, with some substitutions, and the cargo bay closes with a very satisfying snap. This is exactly the same length and width as the original Invader from 1987.
PAC180 - Livorno.
Curated by BuzzKill Galley Livorno
My installation:
A painting on paper.
A raw "machine" I made to play noise during my live performance.
Raw prints on tshirts and various papers.
Había una vez
Una mujer que encontró
A las cómplices de sus sueños.
Esta mi historia.
Fin.
❤
Once upon a time
A lady finally found
Her dream partners in crime.
That´s my story.
The end
Once I discovered the tip of the alien antenna fit in a hand I couldn't stop...
Plus this fig always looked a little crazy in the eyes.
It’s funny how you just break down
Waitin' on some sign
I pull up to the front of your driveway
With magic soakin' my spine
Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?
I've been totally wanting to do this for MONTHS and hadn't gotten the nerve to get nekkid outside. And solely b/c I wanted to REALLY do this in my front yard on the driveway, but how about, I pull up yesterday all pumped to do it, and my next door neighbor is outside cutting the grass! Grr! So it was a total buzzkill, and today otw home I realized I could just do it in my backyard and so I did.
And that isn't a black strip I digitally put across myself. They're my boyshorts, that were so straight across top and bottom that they now look like those censorship strips. Oh well..
TOTW: Rainbows
This started as a spare-parts build, which I then built in Studio and entered in the Ideas GWP contest as the "Blacktron Buzzkill." After that I found parts to build the center module. The yellow canopy came last. It's just about exactly the same length and width as the original set. A TIE fighter pilot and BB-9E astromech droid from Star Wars aren't exactly Blacktron, but I figure they've got enough black-costumed bad guy swagger to do the job.
Jim only cares about Megabench.
Each side of the bench has: a flashlight, a clipboard, post-it notes, a pencil holder (with plenty of pencils and sharpies), a waste basket, a recycle bin, a utility knife and a scraper. These are all things I want within arms reach at all times.
The main reason I built Megabench (yes, it's a Dwight Schrute reference) is because I tend to get sudden inspirations to build / fix / tinker with things and in the past by the time I get set up to build / fix / tinker with said thing I've lost the inspiration. So by having everything out and set up it eliminates the buzzkill factor and leaves me ready to do whatever I'm inspired to do. It could also be called the ADHD Bench.
Just love that light, that "we're in a parking garage and the sun is a hair too bright outside of it but we are both safe and perfectly lit in here" light.
Always looking over my shoulder, a shoot like this, waiting for some over-excited security guard to take an interest and ruin the mood.
It did not happen, it rarely happens, but it's such a buzzkill when it does, now I'm tap dancing to get this guy off our backs, hoping whatever reason I give will placate him and get him to go on his merry way.
Enabling me to get back to taking shots just like this one.
Artwork for the new single, ‘Buzzkill’. Influenced by ‘80s rock, it streams on all platforms at: hypeddit.com/pennanbrae/buzzkill-1
Había una vez
Una mujer que encontró
A las cómplices de sus sueños.
Esta mi historia.
Fin.
❤
Once upon a time
A lady finally found
Her dream partners in crime.
That´s my story.
The end
Our resident Badumna at the backdoor (who we have affectionately name "BuzzKill" on account of her fantastic ability to catch blowflies), is wrestling for control of her meal. A wasp got tangled in her web and as she tried to pull it through her corridor to devour it, a Wandella that had been lurking at the edge of her web, rushed forward and grabbed it. What followed was an epic tug of war that looked extremely unpleasant for the wasp. In the end the bigger spider won out.
Shortly after taking this two of Chicago's finest met me halfway down the tracks to inform me, walking on the tracks, something I've done since I was a kid, is considered "criminal trespass ";. Fucking buzzkill! What the heck are hobos supposed to do now ?
what the photo means: this is a classic pose in photography. the girl standing on her tip-toes to kiss the boy. which explains my feet position, "kiss 365 goodbye", and robby's feet making an appearance. :P yay for self timers!
i'm not happy with this photo at all, which is definitely a buzzkill. so, i'd recommend that you DON'T look at the fullsize of this shot. it's grainy and sucky. i have another version that has wayyy better clarity, but i didn't like the feet position as much.
i can't believe i actually finished the project. i'm super proud that i didn't give up on it. it's weird to see how much my photography has changed over the course of one year. i dunno, i think i've progressed a ton since the start. and i already have an idea for what i'm going to do, now that i don't have to take a picture everyday. haha.
i'm going to start doing photos of song representations, and lookalike self portraits. (a.k.a. i'm going to recreate celebrity pictures.) i'm not sure when i plan to start these little projects, but it's going to be soon.
Took a little trek out to the nature preserve on campus today thinking I could shoot with some peace and privacy there now that school's winding down and the kids are packing up to go home for the summer. This shows what I know - not only are the mosquitoes atrocious already, but I turned out to be a complete buzzkill for two guys who had obviously been hoping to use this bridge as a secluded spot to get high. Still - it was nice to get out doors get some air on my skin and dirt on my toes before having to shower up and get gussied up for work (while I need a shower, what I really want now is a nap... c'est la vie, isn't it?)
This weekend SARM put on a series of 2 excursions for Lhoist North America as part of their 2019 Family day event. This permitted me and several of our members special access to the rail operations in the plant and giving photo opportunities no one else has ever gotten including night photos of both running high hoods at the shop. All of this was done under supervision from Lhoist personal and MSHA certified ETRC staff. Do not attempt any of these shots without permission from Lhoist and without the proper saftey classes they require as it is a federal offense to be on their property without permission.
Airports seem so important, after all I'm only there when I'm doing something important, but it's also full of people at work, just a normal day, no doubt filled with mundane work drama. That's kind of buzzkill.
Name: Danika “DJ” Jones
Hometown: Los Angeles, California
Likes: Parties, DJ-ing, Music (Mostly electronic), Producing music, Sound sampling, Loud speakers, Turntables, Grunge Fashion, The early 2000s, Getting people out of their shell, Headphones, Vinyl records, Plushies, Nerdy movies, Concerts, Raves,
Dislikes: Dairy, Buzzkills, Negativity, People who believe electronic or rap isn’t “real music”, Tropical house, Country music, Dubstep,
Why I should be picked for MMNBFF5: I should be picked for BFF5 because I bring the party wherever I go! I can always show anyone a good time whoever they may be. Plus if Maxine ever wanted to release music I’d totally be able to hook her up with some next level beats.
Faceclaim: Sofia Carson and Charli XCX
PAC180 - Livorno.
Curated by BuzzKill Galley Livorno
My installation:
A painting on paper.
A raw "machine" I made to play noise during my live performance.
Raw prints on tshirts and various papers.
This started as a spare-parts build, which I then built in Studio and entered in the Ideas GWP contest as the "Blacktron Buzzkill." After that I found parts to build the center module. The yellow canopy came last. It's just about exactly the same length and width as the original set. A TIE fighter pilot and BB-9E astromech droid from Star Wars aren't exactly Blacktron, but I figure they've got enough black-costumed bad guy swagger to do the job.
Drove to Vegas, sprawled in the backseat smoking, eating cookies, and slurping coffee from styrofoam cups.
Went to dinner with my mom and sister and impressed my mom with the amount of alcohol I can consume in tandem with tacos.
Saw Lady Gaga. Who's going to turn down an offer to see her signature blood-slicked high fashion pop opera? A total buzzkill, maybe
OUTFIT: t-shirt with cupcakes, candy, and pills all over it purchased in Little Tokyo layered over a very scandalous dress from Ragstock, American Apparel hoodie
ACCESSORIES: tights from Ragstock, Little Missmatch socks, knockoff Doc Martens from H&M, handmade bag from my friend Dustin's Gnarly Tooth line, Fred Flare sunglasses relensed in my prescription
HAIR: I bought $20 of many different types of ribbon from a very Polish South Side fabric store and made a bunch of these; lots of different color-coordinated ribbons tied to an elastic band
I kind of stole this off SamuraiNX, I can never resist these character interview things XD
(writing or reading them)
If you wanna do it consider yourself tagged :D
Pick 3 characters, and have them answer the following questions accordingly. (They may be original characters or not):
1. Knox
2. Raghnailt
3. Dexter
1. Number one, what was your childhood like?
Knox: Happy, my Mom and Dad are both awesome and I was an only child so I was kind of center of their world ^-^
Dexter: Kind of?
2. Character number three, if you could go back in time and change one thing, what would it be?
Dexter: That stupid fight I had with Annie... I screwed up so badly. I would do anything to take that back.
3. Number two, would you rather be immortal and eternally miserable, or live a mortal, blissfully peaceful life?
Raggy: Immortal, I would use every. single. day. making my ex's life a living hell and when he died I would go after the rest of his family and when they were gone I would go after everyone in my country who judged me without hearing my side of the story and then their families.
Knox: 0_0 remind me never to piss you off...
4. Say, character number three, how much do you weigh?
Dexter: How should I know? I'm not too fat to get around and I'm not so skinny my clothes are falling off so why should it matter?
5. Have you ever loved and lost, number one? I'll bet it was your fault, wasn't it? Tsk tsk...
Knox: Haha no. I usually do the breaking up :D
Dexter and Raggy: -_- *sigh*
6. Oh, no character two! You've just strolled into a department store to admire the lovely washing machines when a guy with a nylon stocking over his head runs in and holds the whole store at gunpoint! How will you save the day? (If you are a coward and do not wish to save the day, what do you do upon Stocking Head's arrival?)
Raggy: Why was I looking at a washing machine?
Knox: That's not the point, now... what willlll you do?!
Raggy: I wouldn't be in that store.
Knox: Too bad, you're in the store.
Raggy: I'm not in the store.
Knox: You're in the freakin' store!
Dexter: Leave it, she doesn't want to answer.
Knox: shewasinthestorethequestionsaidshewasinthestore...
7. Number Three, tell your best "Yo Momma" joke.
Dexter: FUCK YOU.
Knox: He has mommy issues XD
Dexter: You perked up...
8. Who is the one person you cannot live without, character number one? Why? (Please don't say Oprah, please don't say Oprah...)
Knox: Ummm.... ok, don't tell Lin, but her brother. He has always been a good friend, but ever since I got hurt he's also been my doctor and just the person I go to when I can't handle things...
9. Hey, number two, tell me one of your deepest, darkest secrets. To make you feel better, I'll tell one of mine: I don't have any deep, dark secrets.
Raggy: I'm scared my daughter won't remember me... or that she will and won't like me... I don't know what I would do.
10. All characters: What kind of music do you listen to? Do you play any instruments? If so, which ones? (Yes...the kazoo counts. Your nose, however, does not.)
Knox: Well we had to learn an instrument for school, my teacher put me on drums... for some reason my parents never really encouraged that...
Dexter: I can play some simple stuff on the guitar
Raggy: I don't like music.
Knox: Buzzkill.
11. What is the most annoying thing in the world, character one?
Knox: Hmmm... mosquitoes?
Dexter: It's not a trick question.
12. Finish the statement, number three: Art is...
Dexter: A beautiful waste of time.
12. Finish the statement, number two: People are...
Raggy: Why are there two number twelves?
Knox: Just answer... please.
Raggy: Annoying.
13. Finish the statement, number one: Imagination...
Knox: is a tool.
14. All characters: Out of the three of you, who is the most outgoing? Reserved? Humorous? Stinky?
Knox: I'm the most outgoing! Miss I won't answer any questions is the most reserved, Dex you can have most humorous and most stinky.
Dexter: geezz thanks.
Raggy: How does she have any friends?
Dexter: I'm really not sure.
15. Quick, Number three! Write a poem!
Dexter: Fuck you, you fucker
I do not like this one bit
art is fucking dumb.
16. What is your favorite word, number one?
Knox: I like chance. It's so hopeful :)
Dexter: What about not a chance?
Knox: :(
17. Character number three, what is one weird thing that you can do? (i.e. wiggle your ears, fold your tongue, play 'amazing grace' with your armpit...)
Dexter: Well there's this thing I can do in the bedroom, you
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
Knox: Trust me kids you didn't want to hear that!
Raggy: 0-0 I... didn't know that was possible...
Dexter: Didn't your boyfriend ever?
Raggy: 0-0 no..noooo...
Dexter: Well next time all you gotta do is
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP
Knox: For Fuck's sake Dexter she's only 19! You're tramatizing her!
Raggy: 0-0 can we please move on now...
18. Speak any other languages, Number Two?
Raggy: 0-0
19. What is your nationality, character number one?
Knox: I'm Canadian! I think my family from like way back is like Polish or Swedish or something like that, but we're all Canadian now :D
Dexter: Those are compleltly different countries...
20. Pick, number two: asparagus or canned peas? Please elaborate.
Raggy: Asparagus, I avoid canned whenever possible.
21. What scares you the most, character three?
Dexter: My dad, and the thought that whatever is wrong with him, mentally I mean, might have been passed on to me.
22. All characters: What is one thing you would like the world to know about you?
Knox: I believe every person is good, bad things happen to them and that can make them act badly, but deep down we are all good :D
Raggy: I didn't do it. I didn't murder my family.
Dexter: I've screwed up a lot, but I'm really trying to be a good person.
Knox: I think next time we do one of these, we invite Lin instead of *points at Raggy*
Dexter: Agreed. Wait what do you mean next time?!
PAC180 - Livorno.
Curated by BuzzKill Galley Livorno
My installation:
A painting on paper.
A raw "machine" I made to play noise during my live performance.
Raw prints on tshirts and various papers.
This started as a spare-parts build, which I then built in Studio and entered in the Ideas GWP contest as the "Blacktron Buzzkill." After that I found parts to build the center module. The yellow canopy came last. It's just about exactly the same length and width as the original set. A TIE fighter pilot and BB-9E astromech droid from Star Wars aren't exactly Blacktron, but I figure they've got enough black-costumed bad guy swagger to do the job.
sooooo it's getting like all nice and overcast in my hometown. and I've decided to keep working on my series over Christmas break. so, today, me and my boyfriend went exploring, and there's this abandoned house by the cemetery that I've always wanted to check out, so we decided to stop by.
When I walked in I was like, "Holy Jesus." because, this place was incredible. There were torn mattresses everywhere and chipped blue cabinets and this old bathtub, and I was getting tons of ideas for my mask series, when we hear footsteps behind us.
So we turn around, and this crazy middle aged man is yelling at us and is cussing us out, and accusing us of stealing, and I'm thinking "what the hell would we steal?" and my boyfriend is like "no, we're just taking pictures..." and this guy will not listen, and keeps cutting us off and is telling us to get the hell out, that he's gonna call the cops, blah blah blah. THEN, he threatens to kick my boyfriend's ass, and MY ass, and I'm like "okay buddy, kick my ass since I'm a bloody minor, and call the cops, I'm sure they'd be happy to hear about it."
Now, I would understand this guy's anger if there were signs posted saying "No Trespassing" or something, but there weren't. This place was wide open, hell, it even had a for sale sign. Like, it just bothers me so much that a total stranger can be so upset and rude and hurtful, when we weren't doing anything wrong. Honestly, I had so much appreciation for that place, it was so beautiful to me, and that guy was just a total buzzkill and put me in an awful mood for the rest of the day.
So then I just went back to my boyfriend's house and we cuddled. But I'm still kinda pissed. Sorry this was long, I'm just so tired of the injustices in some people.
The steam from the engine mingled with the trees and the light of the flash reflected off the snow and it all felt a bit magical, especially when you stuck your head out of the window and breathed in the smell of coal, fresh air and freedom. Or we might have just been overjoyed to be leaving Rawtenstall which is frankly a bit of a dump and closes entirely on a sunday. what is this, 1978?