My name is Cal Rose. As a child, I was abandoned by my parents, and I had to learn to survive by myself. On the streets, alone. And today, I’m fighting for my life again.

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It’s time to stop hiding. I can’t let Bane keep killing. Another body was found, this one with his neck cleanly snapped. No blood, and hardly a bruise. This wasn’t an accident. I need to stop this, and I already know the first step. I’ll have to stake out the area where the bodies were found, and see if there was anyone suspicious there.

As soon as night falls, I put on the Talon suit and climb onto a roof. Leaping and swinging, I make my way to the dock area. On second thought, I should have asked Seline or Grayson to watch my back, but there’s no time now. Once I reach the roof of the warehouse where the first body was found, I find a somewhat comfortable spot, and settle in to watch. It’s cold again tonight. Whatever had been going on for the past year, I didn’t like it. Cold had always made me feel slow and weak.

About an hour later, a huge cloud of bats flies by, chittering and swooping past the roof before disappearing into the night. Then I realize there’s someone sitting next to me.

I jump in surprise, and then take a better look at the man on the rooftop with me. It’s hard to see what he looks like, since the moonlight seems to bend around him, obscuring his face. From what I can make out, he’s dressed in white, with a black cloak and hood. Are those…giant ears? He turns to me and says, “I’ve heard about you. Talon, am I right?” His voice sounds strange, but familiar somehow.

“Yes.”, I reply. I suddenly think of who this is. “You’re the Batman I heard Bane talk about, aren’t you?”

“That’s me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Same as you. I gathered that Bane was looking for me, so I decided to turn the tables. You were already here, so I figured I’d keep you company.” He smiles. There’s something very familiar about him, but I can’t but my finger on it.

“Then let’s get back to watching, shall we?”

We turn back to the yard in front of the warehouse. In time, we see someone waiting, almost hidden in the darkness of the alleyway. As we watch, he darts out and leaves some sort of package in the middle of the yard. As soon as he leaves, Batman nudges me in the ribs and points at it. There’s some sort of green mist around it. “Wait here.”

He jumps down, his cloak catching the wind and bringing him gently to the ground. When he picks up the package, he looks down at it for a moment, then carefully replaces it. He swings a hook up onto the roof, and pulls himself up with it.

“It’s definitely important. There’s a wax seal on it, of a kind only possessed by a rich family. I didn’t dare break it and let anyone know we saw it.”

“Let’s wait and see who picks it up.”

“You’re pretty good at this”, he says, and settles in to watch.

Hours later, someone in hooded clothes walks by on the ground below. They don’t stop, just walk past. A few minutes later, the same person comes back and picks up the package. I catch Batman’s eye, and he nods. We wait until the person is almost out of sight, and then drop down and follow. They walk at a leisurely pace, apparently unaware we’re there. Turning suddenly, they enter a warehouse by a tiny, hidden door. I look at Batman for some indication of what to do. He continues walking, into the same warehouse. I follow.

Inside, it’s not as dark as I expected. There’s light coming from somewhere deep in the maze of crates and walls. As we make our way toward the source of light, I keep an eye out for anyone about to ambush us. I don’t see anyone. The whole place seems deserted. When we finally reach the brightest part of the warehouse, we find a room with Bane and the man we followed here bent over a low table, with the strange package unwrapped on it. Bane moves slightly to the side, and reveals a beautiful glowing stone on the table before him. I glance at Batman, and see a worried look on his face. Inside the room, I hear Bane say to the other man, “this should keep the outsider off our tail, but we still haven’t found the Batman, or this new one, the Talon.”

“Perhaps we should simply ignore them?” He has a high, almost trembling voice, but he doesn’t appear at all intimidated by Bane.

“Perhaps. But we must still be careful, knowing that they’re out there.”

“For the moment, we should proceed with our business as though they do not exist.”

“You’re right. I’ve become distracted by those two. It’s time to move on.”

They both stand up and walk toward the door. We both climb behind some crates, and wait for them to pass. Once they’re gone, we sneak into the room, where a lamp is still burning. By its light, we can see the stone that we saw earlier. It seems to be a large emerald, but Batman seems worried about it.

“I need to go tell a friend about this.”

“I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll see me soon.”, he says with a small smile. And with that, he walks away, quickly consumed by darkness. I head out soon after, making my way home through the narrow, weaving streets of the port.

  

Sorry for the long gap between this and the last issue!

 

On another note, I recently hit 300 followers! Thank you, everybody!

The Watcher in the woods

 

Pursuing the Posh

 

A Cat Burglar Saga

 

From the files of Chatwick University Criminology Department.

 

C.B. Case Study 13 , File B

 

Subset Source: Journal

 

Subject “Harley Q” -- Real name?

 

ORIGINATION STORY:

flic.kr/p/BcnW2J

 

Synopsis:

 

The young lady was approaching sweet sixteen if I estimated accurately. She was clad in a tailored dress of bronze velvet that shone richly over her lithe figure. Her long blonde hair tied in back, flickered like a horses’’ tail. She had come bounding from a ladies powder chamber, one of several located at either end of the grand ballroom that sat off the formal dining rooms.

 

I fell in step behind her, watching as her splendid jewelry bounced merrily as she pranced along like some untried colt, sorry filly. Her pearls were lovely things, a matched set, double strands all, real diamond clasps, shone gleaming with a pristine whiteness that reminded me of fresh snow.

 

The pearls were a sweet lure, of that there was no doubt; but apologies if I am prattling n a bit about them, for after all, what is a jewel thief who fails to notice a ladies jewels? A starving bugger, that’s who.

Now I have found out during my times here on the earth that I can make quite a profit from burgling the safes of wealthy ladies whilst they slept peacefully within their fancy chambres. But I had started out walking my morally tainted chosen path by picking the pockets of the unwary along the way. It was my fate to eventually discover the delightfully chilling sensation that was experienced when lifting the very jewels displayed by unsuspecting female targets. And this was still my guilty pleasure, to the point that I would still take that far riskier venture of lifting worn jewelry whenever opportunity arose, which was quite often in my travelled circles.

 

So, that is why I habitually started to follow this meandering youth, only because of her jewels, which I found to be quite vexing. Especially her earrings, a dangling set held to her ears by genuine diamond studded hinge clasps. I had seldom attempted sets of worn earrings, not for the lack of desire, and with this one’s head just reaching me chest, it was a very tempting prospect to try and pluck em both off just to see?

 

Fortunately, for her (not me), this pretty miss was a bit too young for my standards to make any attempt to lift from her any of the swinging pearls, earrings or otherwise. I do prefer my marks to be a bit older, a bit wiser, a bit more of a challenge to my abilities, thank you very much! Besides, I had already had my eye on a few other, challenging female prospects wearing some rather nice pieces in their own right. Including one sapphire laden Lass in a silky frock that had greatly provoked my attentiveness.

 

So I just followed this young one while she skirted the ballroom and entered a dining area. There she rejoined, what were quite obviously, her parents.

 

There were, it appeared, just the three of them, no older jewel laden siblings in sight. But, speaking of appearances, the Mother certainly presented a rather nice one, and so I stopped to drink it all in.

 

The mother/wife was fluidly clad in an all so elegant purple satin number, poured rather snugly along her still quite lovely figure. Said figure had been made even more eye catching (especially for me) by being emblazon with a matching set of jewels, all set with small 1 caret white diamonds, encircling her neck, wrists and fingers with energetic ripples of fiery colour.

 

She was with her husband, a distinguished looking gent in tails who may have passed as a Barrister, for which all I knew he was. Now Sandwiched in between was their charming young daughter, who was happily chatting away without a care in the world. Her pristine pearls still dangling, mocking me it would seem, to just make the one exception and attempt to take them home with me. I just smiled to wickedly to myself, maybe someday I would I promised them, once their young mistress had grown up a bit, then we would see who was mocking whom from the wickets!

 

But I did not dwell too long on such thought’s , or on the pretty family either, for, like I have revealed, I had other fish frying, and only am mentioning this particular incident because of what would occur in two days hence. So after a bit I turned and began wandering off.

 

But then, speaking of starving jewel thieves, I observed at the precise moment I turned away, a most stunning red head wearing a long black gown that fluttered about, here and there, in a most alluring fashion. She was making a beeline towards the very same powder chamber I had just passed. She was obviously in a rush to reach it, and once I laid my eyes on the pearls she was wearing, I moved towards her in an equally purposeful stride. I intercepted her, letting her bump against me, as I stepped on the hem of her long gown. She stopped abruptly, and I momentarily placed an arm around her smooth waist, steadying her as I apologized and begged the ladies pardon for my clumsiness.

 

She begrudgingly accepted my apologies, and I watched as she scurried off, having already pocketed the pearled bracelet I had slipped from her red satin gloved wrist, and made my own path. I smirked to myself that the bracelet was some consolation for not having an unscrupulous go for the pearls that had hung around the young daughter’s throat, hung from her ears, and encircled one petite wrist, as I stole one last look back towards the pretty families’ table.

 

I walked away, turning my attentions back to relocating a certain lady elegantly wearing a silky frock, displaying those magnificent sapphires. I was watching, waiting for her to leave, in order to follow to her next stop, eventually hoping to be led to her last, having decided to acquire the fair damsel’s collection of jewels enmasse!

 

***** Two productive evenings later ****************

 

It was at a wedding reception the 2 evenings later that I again, quite un-expectantly, spied the Barrister and his entourage.

 

I had been having a delightful chat with the newly minted wife of the titled Scion of a rather old family. I had won the sweepstakes of receiving a dance with the charming Miss. But alas my chat was cut short as she was whisked away to dance with yet another admirer. I watched as she swept off, my hand reaching into me breast pocket, fingering a still warm diamond brooch. That jewel had been merrily dangling down from her satin gowns’ cleavage, over shadowed by her ample bosom. As we had danced, I had managed to work open its silvery clasp, and lift the brooch cleanly away. My hidden vest pocket also contained at the time a rather pretty ring with a blue carbuncle surrounded by sparkly diamonds. Said ring had been wrapped around the finger of a rather vexing long raven haired lass. I had admired the silken dress she was wearing, and as she had happily swirled and twirled to give me a better look, I had taken the opportunity to relieve her finger of its burden. Since I was only allowing meself a couple of prospects with an affair this small, I now made my way, leisurely, contentedly, towards an exit (stage right as they say in the trades).

 

But, no sooner had I put me back to the dance floor, than whom do I spy across the room? That rather delightful miss with a long blonde ponytail, who was now dressed elegantly in cream lace, that I had spied at dinner a few evenings back. It was the very same young lady, wearing the same set of mocking white pearls, and as I discreetly draw near, I soon spied her parents.

 

The “Barrister” was dapper in crisp white shirt and tux, with a fancy gold pocket watch and fob at his waist. The daughter’s look alike mother was now smartly encased in a fitted red gown that shimmered delightfully as it swished about. She was also wearing a nice display of brite emeralds to boot.

 

This time I took closer notice of the Mothers Jeweles. Between the emeralds today and the diamonds the night before, this lady in red could be a nice meal ticket if the stars were aligned properly. And so it turned out they very happily (for me) did.

 

With a few discreet questions from some acquaintances quickly garnered for just such information, I found out where my “Barrister” and his family were spending their late evenings asleep. It so happened that they were staying in a penthouse suite 3 floors above my own modest single. So instead of leaving the reception to scout out a way to gain easy access to their rooms, I could stay and enjoy myself, already being all too familiar with the place. Which I did, later acquiring a gold jeweled bracelet from a charming maiden attired delightfully in teal satin, who had kept flaunting her jewels in me face as she told me all about her perfect self. Another jewel added for my growing collection of the evening.

 

Now, don’t ask me why I was so familiar with my hotels’ penthouse suites, being a cat burglar, the reasons should be quite clear! So when the pretty family left the reception early, around 9 pm returning to their rooms, I was able to follow them with less discretion then I usually do, but still with growing eager anticipation. Also, even more remarkably, they were in bed and asleep by 10:30 pm, which allowed me a much earlier window of opportunity than I had grown accustomed to having.

 

And so it was, that soon after the stroke of midnight, with the happy family deep in their slumbers that I, wearing my black burgling attire, climbed onto the balcony of their rooms. After jimmying open the double glass doors with my Fairborn dagger, I found myself in a small sitting room. Carefully allowing my torch to search around I spied a door on the far end. Opening it cautiously, the first thing I see are the daughters pricey pearls piled loosely on a vanity by the bed where she lay sleeping, dressed in white, looking ever so like the angel she is. I picked up the necklace of pearls, eyeing them as I watch the slumbering figure on the bed. But I passed the pretty things up, for even though I am a thief by nature, I do possess some scruples, albeit maybe a little warped! Besides, those taunting pearls had led me to the small treasure trove that was awaiting me in her Mothers’ chambers. So with a silent thanks, I replaced them upon the vanity, and move off…

 

The parents were found in the next room, soundly sleeping off their alcohol induced haze. The mother was draped over her husband, fetchingly clad in a long satin nightdress that looked almost like an evening gown. Her vulgarly large wedding diamonds flickered pleasantly from her finger as I let my torch sneak up along her shimmering figure. On the bed stand laid the “Barristers” gold watch and a rather pleasing selection of his wife’s gold “day” jewelry, but I passed the lot up, my eyes looking for the good stuff that would be snuggled inside the small room safe that I knew would be behind a false door in one side of the oak dresser ( having already discovered that fact a year previously in a different room of the same hotel)!

 

I went directly to it, and opening the cabinet door, began to use my finely attuned skills to crack it. It was a simple American lock and only took me a minute to have open. I than emptied the small collection of jewel cases ( lovely things) placing them into my small sack. I also find inside the mothers small clutch purse made expensively of red silk and rhinestones, that had been at her side all evening. Out of curiosity (why in the safe?) I placed it inside my bag with the jewels. After checking that the parents were still out cold, I closed the safe, flickering my torch around one last time, it settles upon her red gown, and its emerald rhinestone clips coming blazing into lively flame. I passed on them, and headed back out towards the door. I had almost regained it, and my freedom, when the husband let out a loud snort, and I heard rustling going on in the bed behind me. I froze and carefully looked back. Neither had woken, but the wife had turned onto her side, and her left hand was now hanging limply over the side of the bed. I watched as the diamonds set in the gold ring encircling her slender finger blazed into life (the ring was somewhat loose I keenly noticed)! Blimey, there was enough dosh in the value of that ring that would have paid for all the expenses of the Cardiff C.C. for an entire season, perhaps 2! But, Bird in the Hand, I am always telling meself, so I left the pretty thing dangling there, and finished my careful retreat. I made it out without further incident.

 

Passing the daughters room ( and her pearls again), I checked in. The young filly was still was sound asleep in her own pleasant dreams, her taunting pile of pearls still on the vanity, where they would remain. I regained the balcony and slipping over, made my way down to the window of my own room.

 

Back in my room I empty my sack, the pile of jewels flickering in a frenzy of colours. I admire the little darlings briefly before stashing them. I than pick up the purse and open it. Inside amongst the usual feminy items, I found a letter. Looking at it my heart, already beating quickly from the exhilaration of being on the prowl, skipped one beat, for it was addressed to the lady whose jewels I now possessed, and it was an address of an area I knew quite well. I thought about her address, the house she presumably shared with husband and daughter, the house which should be empty seeing its owners were sleeping just three floors above me. A house that was little over an hour away, only about ¾ of that hour by driving my Lotus. It was a house that I figuratively knew; being in the same neighborhood (relatively speaking) of a house I had reconnoitered and quite lucratively burgled the previous spring.

 

It was perfect. While the family was asleep snug in their beds here, I could reach their abode, with its jewel laden safe ( they all had jewel laden safes in that area), ½ hour to creep the place, an hour to do the job proper and I would be back in time to catch a two hour kip and be checked out and on my way before the pretty family have had breakfast. It, bears repeating, was perfect.

 

I looked at the envelope, was its contents that valuable that she felt the need to lock it up. More than mildly curious, I pulled it out and read it. It was from someone named Samuel. In no uncertain terms, he was informing the lady that for only ₤5000 sterling he would leave for the States and never bother her Daughter Claire again. I thought of the young girl asleep in the suite I had just left. What kind of Scoundrel would lure a young girl like that into his clutches with the intent of extorting her parents! For a moment I pondered this bit of information, before deciding that the opportunity was too ripe to pass up just because I felt a small twinge of compassion. Besides, if the parents could afford to cough up a cool 5 thousand, they weren’t hurting in the financial department.

 

I changed, and quickly gathered my things and headed out quietly via a back entrance. Placing my burgle kit (containing the ladies jewels) into the boot of me two seater, I fired up the lotus’s engine and was off on my little undertaking!

 

A half hour away I turned down a little used rutty road/path. Pulling over I grabbed my burgle kit and headed down to some ancient stone ruins. Checking to make sure none of my warning snares had been tripped, I entered a small stone building. Going down into one of its old, crumbling basements, I uncovered a small cubby and added the jewels to the growing collection of my recent takings.

 

Included in the collection were sets of pearls burgled from a coach stop overnight room occupied by a pair of fairly insufferable spinster sisters. Other burgled items were a rather pretty , if not vulgarly large, diamond set obtained from a naive damsel who thought hiding them under the pillow she slept on was safer than a safe, (always happy to enlighten someone upon the error of their ways that’s me), and of course the sapphires that the lass in the silky frock had been wearing 2 nights previous ( along with some rather nice sets of rubies and diamond adorned amethysts that had lain in the same safe, located above her soundly sleeping figure! ) The rest of the lot consisted of items I had “picked up” while on the prowl: a nice collection of brooches, rings, bracelets, and an eye-catching sapphire pendent hanging from a diamonded chain.

I than closed everything up, rechecked my warning snares, and headed back to my Lotus.

 

Another 30 minutes and I had reached my destination.

 

The house itself was pretty secluded, located by an intersection of two lanes. I drove its perimeter than doubling back found a pull off. I backed up and turned down and off the road hiding the small sports car in a grove of pines.

 

Already wearing some of my burglar attire, (black military trousers and sweater), I placed a hood over my head, pulled out my small kit, fastening a torch and military knife to my belt, I was off. The house appeared to be deserted, I found the servants quarters located at the back of the house over a small barn, the only cars were a small sports car in a shed, and a roadster sitting out front. A large garden surrounded by hedges lay to the west of the house, a larger Tudor, with several porches and balconies. Using the hedges as cover, I shimmed up an old tree located by a balcony, and slipping onto the balcony proper, I made my way to the door. Shimmed the latch with my Fairborn commando knife, and then entered into a side bedroom. I was looking for the master suite, and this was not it, the daughter’s by all appearances. I spied a small ornate silver box on a table, but passed it up , on the search for bigger game!

 

Turning on my torch I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. At the end was a set of double mahogany doors and this is where I set my sights. Along the hallway wall were several rather nice paintings (not copies) and I let the pool of my light flicker along them. Included in the lot was a small painting of a young fox, half asleep, eyeing something in the distance? I stood for precious seconds admiring it, and then turned my attention to the mahogany doors. They were not locked, and I cautiously, very slowly, opened one. Pay dirt! A large empty canopied bed stood in the middle of the room, a love seat to one side, a settee on the other, and directly across from the bed a large ornate sideboard with mirror. Along one side of the wall was a series of chains with different rooms labelled underneath, presumably connected to bells in those rooms. It definitely belonged to the mistress of the house, and, hopefully, her jewels.

 

I let my light flow over the room, avoiding the window and glass door that led out onto another balcony. I soon spotted the location of the safe; it was behind an old painting of a Harlequin. Said Harlequin was standing on a black and white checked tile floor, as he looked inquisitively into his own reflection from an ornate wall mirror. The painting was located on the wall between the corner and the intricately carved oak sideboard. I slid back the painting on its hinges, exposing the small safe.

 

It was exactly the same safe as their neighbors, the ones I had burgled clean in the spring. Quickly getting to work I spin the tumblers, listening intently for the correct paths of clicks. Bingo! , it opened up like a dream. Inside I found a bonanza of about a dozen small jewel cases handedly printed with the jewelers names (Cartier and Tiffany’s amongst them! ) I quickly open and empty their contents into my kit, pouring out a delightfully pricey array of colorful gems of all types and styles. Replacing the empty cartons, I rummage around, finding a small stack of gold and silver coins and a couple of bundles of notes, currency of the realm. I favorably pocket the lot.

 

Suddenly I freeze, hearing the unmistakable sounds of muffled giggling from down the corridor. Closing the safe and picture I back off and hide inside a closet, wishing I had had the foresight to have opened the balcony door to see if that had offered escape, but I had been so sure I would be alone that evening that I had let me guard slacken a bit. I hoped that whoever it was they were heading off to bed.

 

They were off to bed, problem was it was the bed in the room I was in for which they were heading. I heard the door open, and from the crack in the closet door, I saw a young couple come in, tipsy and fondling the heck out of one another. The female was obviously an older daughter of the house, a mini version of the mother and her sister. She was resplendent in a long flowing cream satin evening gown; her paramour was a beady eyed, weasely faced chap in loose fitting tux and tails. It must have been his roadster outside; the couple must have been snogging in the garden, and drinking wine, judging from the smell and the way they were acting. Again I kicked myself for not checking the grounds more thoroughly. But why hadn’t the bloody twit of a daughter been at the wedding with her family where she belonged? But a bit later I was to reason that if she had, I would have been tempted to lift a diamond bracelet, and me path may have ended there. Missing out entirely, the opportunity to burgle the contents of 2 bedroom safes, master and penthouse!

 

They headed right to the bed, (doing it on the parents bed, and old cracker that was) the lady not even taking off her long satin gloves, just falling onto the bed with her doe wide eyes gleaming, while her beady eyed lover was falling all over her. Oh god! Samuel, I heard her mummer in passion. My eyes were opened, this must be the daughter Claire, and the beady eyed bloke was the infamous Samuel. Now it made a little more sense, but not any less wicked. I watched them in a new light, my mind going a full mile a minute trying to see a way out of the situation. . “Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans” I muttered an old saying in French, chastising myself inwardly for taking on such a gamble rushed for time.

 

Now, I am certainly no voyeur, and my belief that some things private, are, well private! But actually, in this instance, there was no choice. I tried not to watch, but the couple’s raw, animal like lovemaking and all its trimmings were happening just feet away. I began to amuse myself by watching the flashy show put on by the daughter’s sparkling jewels and the fluidly movement of her shiny, slinking gown as they were caught in the moonlight that streamed thru the glass of the balcony door. It was the type of show that engrosses any jewel thief worth his salt (hell, any bloke worth his salt for that matter). My mind also kept going back to the letter that I had found in the red silk purse and I hoped that a way would open to cause “Mr.” Samuel some sort of grief.

 

Beady eyes comes onto her, driving her mind off everything but what he is doing, as her eyes are closed tight, his are open, looking about. I slink in a little more into the shadows, keeping his face in my view. Occasionally a white satin gloved hand appears, rings and bracelets sparkling in a frenzied flickering as her fingers grip his face. Suddenly his eyes open wide as he looks towards the painting of the Harlequin. Cripes I mutter as I look there also, for on the floor lies a diamond bracelet, the fancy bugger must have slipped out as I scurried to my hole. I prepare to bolt like a fox hiding close to where the hounds are heading (my mind went to the painting of the watchful fox in the hallway outside the bedroom).

 

But beady eyes says nothing..

 

He finished the job, with her squealing like a piglet, before she slumps back exhaustedly onto the bed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing became heavier as she lost all drink induced conscious. I watched as her lover’s half closed eye stayed focused on the bracelet, as he listened to her breathing become heavier. When he was sure she was asleep he slipped off and heading to the vanity scooped up the bracelet and placed it inside a pocket of his tux’s vest. He then crawls back next to her, gently fingering her diamond rings before (finally) joining her into heavy, wine induced sleep alongside.

 

It seemed like hours, but the whole episode, by me watch, lasted only a ¾ of hour, but it was a precious time I could ill afford to have lost atoll.

 

I was running late, but knew what I had to do next. Walking over to the pair I watched them for a few seconds, plotting my next course of action. Her jewels were flickering nicely in the moon’s light.

 

I reached down an lifting ever so gently one still gloved lifeless feminine hand, I slipped off a couple of sparkly rings from satin clad fingers, and unfastened a tight cuff bracelet emblazon with diamonds from around her wrist. Then I lifted the other hand, easily gliding off another brace of glistening rings from her fingers, and a second diamonded bracelet from her limp wrist. Than lifting her necklace of diamonds, I pulled it gently around admiring the way they rippled fire along her throat, till its jeweled clasp was exposed. Then I slowly pry open the jeweled clasp, and slipped the necklace away, watching it sway in the moonlight like a glistening snake. They were both still out cold, It wasn’t really very much of a challenge, not that I was complaining mind you.

 

I happily pocketed the lot, except for a cheaper ring. I swapped that ring for the diamond bracelet in Samuel’s vest pocket, hoping that the outcome would prove interesting. In the process of placing the ring in the Sammy boy’s vest, I came across his fat pocketbook, which I gladly lifted and added to the collection in my own now bulging pocket.

 

I then left the room, leaving quietly by stepping upon the soles of my feet. As I pass the small painting of the watching fox, I pull it off and stick it into my kit, a bonus for me extra worries. I than slip back through the daughter’s bedroom, its door now slightly ajar.

 

In a corner of the room lay the small silvery jewelry case I had passed up earlier thinking it was the younger daughters. But, I hesitated, wondering to which daughter the room belonged, for someone had slightly opened the door for a reason? I shook my head, no chances. But, wait a minute, I grinned as my thoughts grew ever more pleasing. I walked over to the small table that held the ornate silver jewel case (casket was what my Gram had called hers), above it was a small picture of the family daughters in full riding regalia, the older daughter, Claire, had a small pin of a fox in her shiny white satin caveat.

 

I bent down and opening the small case. There on top was the fox pin, glittering with brownish Sardonyx gemstones and bright red ruby eyes. I plucked it up and added it to my sparkling collection. Then I admired the shimmery collection of gold and pearled jewelry (no lowly silver for this lass). Selecting the better ones I placed them with the fox pin and the Mothers jewels in my kit, then scooping out the rest, I placed them in unceremoniously in a side pocket.

 

I then went back out the balcony and down the tree. I headed over to the roadster out front and taking out a few of the lesser jewels I had scooped into me pocket, and I began placing them in and underneath the passenger seat of the vehicle.

 

Finished I admired my handiwork, then looking leisurely around, let out a deep sigh of absolute relief, mixed with exquisite feelings of pleasure of an adventuer winningly pulled off, before melting off into the shadows of the woods. I soon reached my lotus, gunned the engine to life, and then proceeded to slowly drive off without headlights until I reach the main road.

 

I once again stopped at my hidden cubby and deposited my burglar’s kit and purloined jewels with the rest of my stash, reset my snares, and headed quickly back to the hotel.

 

I reached my destination just at cock crow, went upstairs and finished packing. It was later than I had anticipated, so no kip for the sinners. I just loaded my luggage into the boot of the two seater, checked my key in at the desk, settled my bill, and headed for a quick breakfast.

 

But I wasn’t quick enough, for about halfway through my breakfast The “Barrister” and his family came down to have the same. They appeared to be calm, so I knew that my activities earlier that morning had not been exposed yet.

 

I pushed aside my almost finished plate and standing, walked past them, allowing the daughter, who was clad in a silky skirt and matching satiny top, and wearing those taunting white pearls of hers, to bump into me as she pranced to their table. Steady girl I says, catching her as I eye for the last time her dangling jewelry. So sorry sir, she replied apologetically. I complimented her parents on their charming daughter. The father, in a formal suit and tie, grunts his thanks. The mother, in a scintillatingly swishing long red skirt, and heavy cream silk blouse, blushes prettily. I look over her plentiful “everyday” jewelry as I take their leave. What she was wearing for a normal day of activates was expensive enough to catch any thief’s desire to acquire.

 

As I walked away, a vision of her walking the streets, dressed as she was, back in Dickens London formed in my thoughts. She attracted the notice of a small street urchin, his devious heart pounding as he left huis vigil from the wall he had been leaning against too closely follow her as she swished by. Catching up to her in the hopes of brushing against her and with a sorry ma’am, walk away with some of it.

 

This was actually from a memory of mine ( long after Dickens time though) about an incident I had witnessed while working at my old uncles “eel and mash” shop.

 

A finely decked out young couple (the long haired lady wearing pearls as it so happened) had been inside the shop and finishing their meal, had walked out across the street. A street youth had been hanging out by the shop and had followed them across the street close on their heels. They all turned a corner, so I never knew what had happened, if anything ( which I sincerely doubted)! But that image had plagued many an unsettling adolescent dream with images of finely dressed ladies bending down to a begging young grimy faced lad, well ringed fingers and bracelets jangling as a coin was offered, gold lockets or pearls swaying out from tightly satin clad breasts to just within the reach of his grubby fingers….

 

I have come to believes that it was the seeds planted in my mind by those dreams that may have very well guided and nudged me onto the course I have continued following to this day.

 

So, naturally I guess, as I walked away my train of thoughts took a similar course as those dreams/nightmares. I imagined the mother I had just left, walking along a street alone, dressed as she was last evening, the jewels that were now in a cold small cubby, once again upon her figure, glittering their fiery beacon. Then suddenly her daughter, dressed as she was now, was strolling alongside her. The street urchin I had seen that morning so long ago was here also, following close, eyeing the ladies reflected jewels in a storefront window as they walked past……

 

But at that point in my daydream I realized that I had reached and was standing beside my two seater, and shaking my head clear of such thoughts (once again, sadly not seeing the outcome) I happily hopped over the door and into the driver’s seat, firing up the engine, and quite eagerly pulled away from the hotel and roared down the road.

  

I stopped by my secret cubby, and without haste, fully on the alert, made my way down to the basement. I collected my stash and made it back to the Lotus without incident. Lighting me pipe, I smiled to meself, promising a nice stiff one once I got back to the abode. I pulled away, slowly, cheerfully, driving down the warm sunlit road. I was now on to new quests, filled with promises of many lucrative acquisitions.

 

One of those quests was wrapped around a young lady in Soho, who recently had inherited a jewellery collection worth ₤25,000 which she loved wearing out in public, flaunting the richly jeweled pieces all about whenever she could. The quite, almost vulgarly rich, young lass had so many Beaus seeking her affections that she was being invited out almost weekly out to some special dress up affair. This all made her overly ripe for the plucking by some jewelry procurement minded thief. And being one meself, a jewel thief that is, I intended to be the first in line.

 

Once I returned home, I first visited my London banks strongbox to deposit my newly acquired ” glittering with fire” trophies to let them “cool” down a bit. Then I made sure the Yard received an anonymous post. Said post containing a red silk evening clutch, inside which was beady eyes’ pocketbook( sans money) along with the letter incriminating one certain rogish gent by the name of Samuel for attempting extortion of 5000 pounds sterling from the fair Claire’s Mother. I know how the chaps in the inspector’s squad so love a mystery!

 

And so, for now dear journal, I bid farewell, adieu.

************************************

 

Si vous voulez faire rire Dieu , faire des plans

 

Roughly translated:

If you want to make God laugh, Make plans

 

Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

 

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DISCLAIMER

 

All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents

 

The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.

 

No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.

 

These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

 

As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment and/or educational purposes only, and should never be attempted in real life.

 

We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.

 

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Inside of the tower, showing how I achieved the angled top.

 

The stack of brick with either 3 or 5 studs can be used with one dot (1x1 round plate) on either side, By placing two of the 2xn plates on alternate sides and twisting, it allows a tight and clean connection,

 

It the happens that a cheese slope fits in the top cleanly (as can be seen in the insert)

Blue hour lingers at the south end of the Golden Gate Bridge, where San Francisco gives way to water and steel before the day fully asserts itself. From this vantage, the tower rises cleanly against a softly layered sky, its International Orange subdued by cool coastal light rather than pushed into spectacle. Across the bay, the Marin Headlands sit in quiet relief, their dark contours holding steady while the water below remains calm and unreadable.

 

The foreground tells a distinctly local story. A concrete overlook marked by weather, graffiti, and use sits above the shoreline, framed by low vegetation and a narrow path that bends toward the bridge. It’s an unvarnished edge of the city, more functional than polished, where infrastructure and landscape meet without ceremony. Above it all, the bridge’s roadway carries a thin line of warm streetlights, a measured counterpoint to the blue-gray morning.

 

What stands out here is the balance between monument and margin. The Golden Gate is unmistakable, yet it shares the frame with overlooked structures and in-between spaces that longtime San Franciscans recognize instinctively. This is not the bridge as performance, but as presence—engineered, maintained, and woven into the city’s daily routines.

 

Moments like this define San Francisco’s character as much as any skyline view. Before traffic thickens and the light sharpens, the bridge feels briefly private, suspended between night and day, land and water, icon and everyday companion.

What a huge loss overnight, when the beautiful old mission church west of Cochrane, McDougall Church, burned down! This was a place that I loved to visit and photograph - a place with such an interesting, important history. I will add the link to my McDougall Church album for anyone who is interested. Thanks to my daughter for letting me know just now. Very sad news.

 

www.cochranenow.com/local/fire-leaves-many-with-heavy-hearts

 

www.flickr.com/photos/annkelliott/albums/72157645848592486

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Well, I'm certainly not getting on very well with my Trinidad photos at the moment : ) Other things keep popping up and they have offered photo opportunities, too. This morning, I have just posted seven more shots from my day out with four friends, driving the area SW of Calgary, on 20 May 2017.

 

Part of the morning was spent at our friend, Barb's, acreage, SW of Calgary, enjoying the variety of birds that visit her garden. Thanks so much, Barb, as always, for letting us visit you. Such a joy to see birds like the handsome male Rose-breasted Grosbeak and the Evening Grosbeaks. I so rarely get to see either of these birds. This beautiful male Hairy Woodpecker also came by while we were there.

 

"The larger of two look alikes, the Hairy Woodpecker is a small but powerful bird that forages along trunks and main branches of large trees. It wields a much longer bill than the Downy Woodpecker's almost thornlike bill. Hairy Woodpeckers have a somewhat soldierly look, with their erect, straight-backed posture on tree trunks and their cleanly striped heads. Look for them at backyard suet or sunflower feeders, and listen for them whinnying from woodlots, parks, and forests." From AllAboutBirds.

 

www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Hairy_Woodpecker/id

 

We then drove the various roads SW of the city, as far south as Turner Valley, hoping to see a few birds. Beautiful scenery in the whole area. In Turner Valley, we called in to see another mutual friend and watch the birds that visited her tiny, but beautifully and thoughtfully designed, back deck. Thanks so much for having us - and for the most welcome coffee! - Jackie, especially at such very short notice!

 

This coming weekend, it is the annual May Species Count. This year, 2017, I am only going to be doing the Sunday Count - no walking : )

 

"The count goes May 27-28: Calgary birders have been out in force every May since 1979, contributing to a broad census of the constantly changing patterns of bird distributions in North America. Last year (2015) we found 212 species. The count circle is the same as previous years, extending from Olds to Nanton, and from Exshaw to Standard, and includes a variety of environments." From NatureCalgary.

The Eisbach (German for "ice brook") is a small man-made river, 2 kilometres long, in Munich. It flows through the park known as the Englischer Garten and is a side arm of the Isar River. A manmade wave has been created on one section.

 

Swimming in the Eisbach is not allowed, but the rule is not enforced, and swimmers can be seen especially on warm summer days. At least two people have drowned in the lower part of the Eisbach, a swimmer in 2003 and a non-swimmer, who may have slipped or fallen asleep near the river, in February 2007.

 

Just past a bridge near the Haus der Kunst art museum, the river forms a standing wave about 1 metre high, which is a popular river surfing spot. The water is cold and shallow (sometimes only 40 cm deep), making it suitable only for experienced surfers and playboaters (whitewater kayakers). The wave is predominantly used by surfers, and animosities of surfers towards kayakers have occasionally been reported.

 

The wave has been surfed by river surfers since 1972, and surfing competitions have even been held. Due to the more recent development of playboating, kayakers have only more recently and so far not in great numbers started to surf the wave.

 

Surfing is now (2010) officially allowed. A new sign next to the wave warns that "Due to the forceful current, the wave is suitable for skilled and experienced surfers only". In previous years there have been issues between the authorities, who threatened to demolish the wave, and a group of wave supporters who organized activities and a website to save the wave, including an online petition to leave the wave intact.

 

Being a standing wave it can be surfed for as long as one's balance holds, and in busy times a queue of surfers forms on the bank. In the past surfers tied a leash to the bridge to hold onto, but a sign announces that this is both dangerous and forbidden.

 

The local surfers have forced the wave to break more cleanly, with increased height, by attaching ropes to the bridge which trail submerged planks, creating two large "U"-shapes. Such a shape makes the wave easier to surf for river surfers (playboating makes fewer demands of the wave shape).

 

A better wave for beginners is in Floßlände near the Thalkirchen U-Bahn station. It has also been surfed since 1972, and it is wide enough to take a few surfers at a time. A third standing wave in Munich forms on the Isar itself near the bridge Wittelsbacherbrücke, but only at flood levels of the river. Due to the dirt, manure and objects like tree branches drifting in the flood in the first days, this wave is usually surfed only a few days after the water level has risen.

 

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Just another little snapshot illustrating what (can) make a good photo. One can imagine that the photographer didn't know, wouldn't have predicted, wasn't anticipating, that the photo would divide in thirds: the dark sea, the lighter sea, and the still lighter sky. The foam of the wake leads the eye into the picture, where the trailing boat seems to come on at you and the gulls hover. How much of the day this photograph must have captured for this photographer, the light, the sea, the sounds and smells, the friends following, and the anticipation of a destination not yet reached. Photographs that abstract the world into patterns rarely move me in the way that photographs that tell stories and suggest the joys of lives lived do. This little photo distills a rather ordinary subject into his crystalline essence. It's not flashy, but it does its job cleanly.

In two weeks, I've bought apx. 200 photos from this dealer. He says he has ten times as much as I've already seen. I had the box between my knees while I was looking through it today. Another dealer came around (he has his photos marked-up about a thousand per cent from this dealer's prices) and tried to horn in on my stash. I told him he could look when I was finished. I hope I've got this dealer talked into giving me first look.

Otherwise, I'm going to be gnashing my teeth about what I miss.

this is the challenge to txkimmers.

I tried to dot the "i" correctly and cleanly.

...... but I couldn't.

I dotted different point.

 

note:

I didn't use the mirror.

I reversed right and left of this photo with photoshop.

=The Hall of Doom, Two Years Ago=

 

Lex- The Justice League... The world calls them heroes. *Tut* They're a band-aid, here to ease our pain, relieve it, but never to cure it. And yet, does that stop the everyman from building statues, holding festivals, from building damn museums for them? No, they look to the skies, not a care in the world, holding onto false promises, the lie that Superman and his insipid allies will always be there to save the day, upholding outdated, naïve values. Truth, Justice, The American Way, straight out of a 1940s serial. Their promises and their lies have made our world complacent. Lazy. Mankind can't progress, it can't evolve, when there's a blue boyscout holding our hand every step of the way.

 

Bane- So you propose genocide?

 

Lex- A virus, yes. One that breaks the delusion that the Justice League has used to fool all the patriotic nobodies. The truth, one you, and I, have learnt long, long ago, is thus- you can only ever rely on yourself to truly move on. And the heroes? Some will, I admit, survive. It's unavoidable. But they'll have a hard time finding anyone that'll still trust them. The rest of our Society believes I mean to kill all life, leaving us the sole survivors, why, how else could I appeal to their megalomania? I could never be so wasteful. I only want to give mankind the chance to rewrite their destiny.

 

Bane- You do understand the hypocrisy, don't you? Your proposal shifts humanity's future in a way even Superman has not.

 

Lex- Of course I do. The difference is, Bane, I am human. I have a right to change our destinies.

 

===

 

Luthor was right. You can't rely on anyone but yourself. He may have learnt this lesson as a young boy, left at the mercy of his father, but I learnt it in Peña Duro, in my cell, struggling to breath as each night, the tide came in. The guards used to bet how long it would take before I would give up, and let the ocean swallow me. When I took Santa Prisca as my own, I repayed their hospitality. They died on the first night.

The Hall of Doom is all but abandoned now, masked by cloaking technology in a Louisiana Swamp. It was where I, Kuttler and Thawne made our stand against Luthor, before he teleported out. He may have wiped the computer banks, but there are still many secrets left here, unguarded. Secrets that I will need-Red sun emmiters, Kryptonite gauntlets, all assets Lex left behind in his escape, weapons he planned to use against Superman. My target? A Kryptonian of a different breed. It is time I get to work.

 

"We've found him. Shall I make the call?"

 

"No need, Kuttler."

 

It's a hypersonic emmitter. In five minutes time, the Moon will align itself with the Hall. In five minutes, he will hear my signal and, after another thirty seconds, he will land here, and he will demand to know which human dared to attack *him*. No Superman, no Supergirl. They are in deep space, tangled in a web of New Gods and Source Walls. That leaves just him, and I. The man, and the god.

 

===Arkham City===

 

"Honey, you-"

 

*Miranda slaps him cleanly across the face*

 

Drury- Ok, you do that again and I'll-

 

Miranda- Deathstroke, Drury? You went up against Deathstroke?

 

Drury- Hey, he came onto me. What's... What's up with Rigger?

 

*He gestures to Firebug, who's wrapped himself tightly around his waist, hugging him*

 

Miranda- He doesn't much like Batman.

 

Chancer- Heh. Who does.

 

*Batman walks past Sharpe, who breaks into an unconvincing fit of coughs and splutters. Bruce and Selina lock eyes for just a moment, but then, back to business*

 

Batman- Reardon, how many men do you have?

 

Ten- I- Uh- There's us, Charles... Needham, the painter- Dekker, maybe a dozen others...

 

Batman- Good. Good. I need you to gather as many people as you can, spread the word. "Arkham isn't safe-"

 

Chancer- No shit.

 

"Arkham isn't safe, you're getting out of here." Can you do that?

 

Ten- They... Batman, they won't listen to me.

 

Batman- Yes. Yes they will. Just have faith, Ten. Have faith. Take Rigger, Chancer. Go.

 

Ten- I- Yes, sir. Look after him, won't you?

 

"I will"

 

Ten salutes, nodding at Drury one last time, and then the trio departs.

 

Batman- That leaves you four. Gaige, you worked with Ra's. Can you tell us anything you might know, anything that can help?

 

Miranda- Only that he'll be at the end of his life span, needing a dunk in a pit, or else. That he'll... That he'll be more dangerous than ever.

 

Batman- And that's why he's here. He wants to heal himself and he wants you, Walker, to pay.

 

Miranda- But there *are* no Pits in Gotham. Not after Meagan blew the last one to hell

 

Batman- Not Lazarus Water, no, not that I know of. But Dionesium, yes. When I first investigated the Owls, I learnt that they'd been using the sewer systems... With the aid of your father. It led me to their lair. To their labyrinth... Once I escaped their torture, I returned with the League to find it empty. Not the first time they've made themselves "disappear." Far as I knew, they'd abandoned the site. But now? With everthing that's happened, and with everything Reardon's mentioned, it seems like they've returned to their nest.

 

Drury- So what, we just waltz in there, guns a- no wait, that isn't your thing.

 

Batman- Gaige, Wasp and I will go in, confront Ra's. Alone.

 

Drury- Oh, come on!

 

Batman- Look at yourself Walker. Deathstroke could've killed you. The Talons would have killed you. After Blackgate you can't even walk straight.

 

Drury- That's not fair, Bane broke your back, you were fine.

 

Batman- And for months, I sat at the sidelines, unable to do a damn thing-

 

Drury- That's what I'm saying- I don't want to be powerless, not anymore!

 

Batman- I'm not sending you down there so you can be killed, it's out of the question

 

Drury- And is that why *she's* not coming?

 

...

 

Selina- I can stand up for myself, Walker.

 

Drury- Or is it because she killed a man, because guess what-

 

Batman- Walker-

 

Miranda- Christ, Drury.

 

Drury- Because, look, yes she killed someone, but from what I know, she didn't have a choice

 

Batman- There's *always* a choice.

 

Drury- No. Not always. Sometimes you do all you can, but you still have to make those decisions. I know he was your friend once. But he was also Hush. He's the guy who cut out *her* fuckin' heart for godsake, and you're going to say she's wrong for shooting him? Love matters Bruce. It's what's kept me going that's for sure.

 

...

 

Batman- Life isn't always a fairytale Walker.

 

Miranda tries to pull Drury back, but she knows better... he's in the middle of a rant, very little can stop him once he gets started.

 

Drury- I know! Are you really going to tell me that, after everything that I've been through, what we've all been through? I understand more than you think.

 

Batman- No. No you don't.

 

Drury- I killed Garth ok? Jim Garth. The Blaze. I threw him out that window, ok?

 

Batman- Why are you-?

 

Drury- And Music Meister! That was me! Did I eat him alive? No. But I did cripple him so he couldn't run! And Carson. Ted Carson. I didn't mean to kill him the first time. But I watched as Charaxes dragged him away. And... And I smiled. I laughed. That's not even going into the cops I'd have killed back in the day. Cops with jobs. Families. They sure didn't vote for me. Blaze and Carson, they had kids... Getting that job at City Hall may have helped me out a ton, 'specially with empathy, but it didn't stop me killing. So if you're going to blame her for Hush, you have to blame me. For all of them. Like I have.

 

...

 

"I don't blame her. I blame myself."

 

Selina- Bruce, that's not your decision to make.

 

Bruce- But it is. I don't blame you... But I can't be Batman, I can't do my job, protect Gotham, if I'm not absolute in my convictions. I *can't* support murder, not even Hush, not even *him*, because if I am lax on just one thing... It's becomes a slippery slope, a dark path I am not able to come out of. And I've seen that path in action.

 

Selina- We're not talking about the Dark Knights, or the Crime Syndicate, and do you know why? Because they aren't you. They were never you. Because if they were, they never would've crossed the lines they have. That's Batman. Not your absolute conviction, your humanity.

 

*She puts her hands on his cowl, and she takes it off. He stands in the ruins of Arkham, unmasked for a minute. Then, he smiles. Faintly, before pulling his mask back on, not as Batman, but as Bruce Wayne*

 

...

 

Bruce- I just hope no one saw that. Let's go.

  

A lot of the time when the image data for MastCam come down from the rover, it is commanded to do so in LOCO, a lossless compression format. What this means, is that you get a monochrome image that still has it's bayer pattern on it, directly from the camera sensor. With the full science data it's great. However, with the raw data that gets posted to the public outreach website, the images get an unhealthy dose of JPEG compression. This compression wreaks havoc on the bayered pixels. Since I generally processed MSL images from these raws (I like to keep up-to-date), I need to work around this destructive compression. My processing software, Mars Raw Utils, does it's best to debayer the images using either a Malvar or Amaze algorithm, but that still leaves a lot of obvious artifacts in the image most often in the form of little green squares.

These artifacts effect mostly bland portions of the image such as the sky or sand. One way I use to mitigate these artifacts is by using the Color Mixer tool in Photoshop's Camera Raw Filter or Lightroom. I crank the greens all the way to the left and the yellows to the left about 80%, whatever looks good. This works pretty well with the green squares in the sand or on rocks but not the sky.

The sky is, for me, not worth the trouble so I do a sky replacement. Simply put, I cut out the sky and replace it with a gradient layer that matches the colors (11x11 samples) sky in the image. Often, the trick is cutting the sky out cleanly such that all the desired rock is still there and there are no harsh edges or ugly artifacts left over that the Select And Mask tool missed. On this image, the Select and Mask tool did a rather lousy job at finding the edge between the butte and sky. It's not really the tools fault, the compression artifacts were really bad there. Sometimes I don't really care and I leave the artifacts if they aren't too bad, but if I particularly like the image, such as this one, I'll go through and manually touch up the mask with a brush. I'm not great at doing that, so if you zoom into the border between the butte and sky, it should be pretty obvious how I tried to clean up the artifacts.

The artifacts are a consequence of the JPEG compression (which the Perseverance raw image page does not do), which itself is a consequence of the contract the operator of MastCam, Malin Space Science System, has with NASA and JPL. Nothing we can do about that, so we work with what we get.

I can always wait until the images are released in full on the Planetary Data System (PDS), but those take a few months to come out (I should know, I've done a few PDS releases for MSL). I like to stay with the progress of the mission here, so I work with the raws. Some raw images are so bad once debayered, I don't even bother processing them, but I'm trying to get to most of them.

 

I hope you like them and enjoy the exploration and science as much as I do.

 

NASA/JPL-Caltech/MSSS/Kevin M. Gill

Cube tessellation - "designed" and folded by me. Testfold.

Can't really call this an original design, as the pattern is wellknown. The only part which is challenging is to create a pattern on the front which doesn't distract of the cube and collapsing it cleanly on the back.

Another example for an easy freefoldtessellation, no refferences are needed. The next step will be to try and make something cool out of it. If you got any ideas, feel free to share them with me :D

  

I shot this lady and her husband at Haji Malang , they had come to fulfill their vow on completion of a wish..removal of hair and a few strands offered to the Holy Saint .. this is also known in Muslim parlance as completion of a Mannat.. the couple both Hindus from Andhra Pradesh .. devotees of the Holy Saint of Haji Malang a Shrine in the Malangad Mountains close to Kalyan..

  

Religious Tonsure

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tonsure

 

Tonsure is the practice of some Christian churches, mystics, Buddhist novices and monks, and some Hindu temples of cutting the hair from the scalp of clerics, devotees, or holy people as a symbol of their renunciation of worldly fashion and esteem.

 

The origin of the tonsure remains unclear, but it certainly was not widely known in antiquity. There were three forms of tonsure known in the 7th and 8th centuries:

 

* The Oriental, which claimed the authority of Saint Paul the Apostle (Acts 18:18) and consisted of shaving the whole head. This was observed in the Eastern churches, including the Eastern Orthodox Church and the Eastern Catholic Churches. Hence Theodore of Tarsus, who had acquired his learning in Byzantine Asia Minor and bore this tonsure, had to allow his hair to grow for four months before he could be tonsured after the Roman fashion, and then ordained Archbishop of Canterbury by Pope Vitalian in 668.

* The Celtic, the exact shape of which is unclear from the sources, but in some way involved shaving the head from ear to ear.[1] The shape may have been semicircular, arcing forward from a line between the ears, but another popular suggestion, less borne out in the sources, proposes that the entire forehead was shaved back to the ears.[2] More recently a triangular shape, with one point at the front of the head going back to a line between the ears, has been suggested.[1] The Celtic tonsure was worn in Ireland and Great Britain and was connected to the distinct set of practices known as Celtic Christianity.[3] It was greatly despised by those affiliated with the Roman custom, who considered it unorthodox and associated it with the heretic Simon Magus.[4]

* The Roman: this consisted of shaving only the top of the head, so as to allow the hair to grow in the form of a crown. This is claimed to have originated with Saint Peter, and was the practice of the Latin Rite Roman Catholic Church.

 

These claimed origins are possibly unhistorical; the earliest history of the tonsure is lost in obscurity. This practice is not improbably connected with the idea that long hair is the mark of a freeman, while the shaven head marks the slave (in the religious sense: a servant of God). Other theories are that the tonsure mimics male pattern baldness in an attempt to lend artificial respectability to men too young to display the real thing[citation needed], or that the tonsure is a ritual created by balding superiors in act of vanity and power over young non-bald subordinates.

 

Among the Germanic tribes, there appeared the custom that an unsuccessful pretender or a dethroned king would be tonsured. Then he had to retire to a monastery, but sometimes this lasted only until his hair grew back.[5]) The practice of tonsure, coupled with castration, was common for deposed emperors and his sons in Byzantium from around the 8th century, prior to which execution, usually by blinding, was the normal practice[6].

[edit] Tonsure today

[edit] Christianity

[edit] Western Christianity

 

In the Latin or Western Rite of the Roman Catholic Church, "first tonsure" was, in medieval times, the rite of inducting someone into the clergy and qualifying him for the civil benefits then enjoyed by clerics. Tonsure was a prerequisite for receiving the minor and major orders. Failing to maintain tonsure was the equivalent of attempting to abandon one's clerical state, and in the 1917 Code of Canon Law, any cleric in minor orders (or simply tonsured) who did not resume the tonsure within a month after being warned by his Ordinary, lost the clerical state. Over time, the appearance of tonsure varied, ending up for non-monastic clergy as generally consisting of a symbolic cutting of a few tufts of hair at first tonsure in the Sign of the Cross and in wearing a bare spot on the back of the head which varied according to the degree of orders. It was not supposed to be less than the size of a communicant's host, even for a tonsuratus, someone simply tonsured, and the approximate size for a priest's tonsure was the size of a priest's host. Countries that were not Catholic had exceptions to this rule, especially in the English-speaking world. In England and America, for example, the bare spot was dispensed with, likely because of the persecutions that could arise from being a part of the Catholic clergy, but the ceremonious cutting of the hair in the first clerical tonsure was always required. In accordance with Pope Paul VI's motu proprio Ministeria quaedam of 15 August 1972, "first tonsure is no longer conferred". Since that time, however, certain institutes have been authorized to use the first clerical tonsure, such as the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter (1988), the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest (1990), and the Personal Apostolic Administration of Saint John Mary Vianney, (2001).

 

Apart from this general clerical tonsure, some Western Rite monastic orders, for example Carthusians and Trappists, employed a very full version of tonsure, shaving the head entirely bald and keeping only a narrow ring of short hair, sometimes called "the monastic crown" (see "Roman tonsure", above), from the time of entrance into the monastic novitiate for all monks, whether destined for service as priests or brothers. Some monastic orders and individual monasteries still maintain the tradition of a monastic tonsure.

 

The fuller form of clerical tonsure led to the wearing of a skull cap in church to keep the head warm. This skull cap, called a zuchetto, is still worn by the Pope (in white), Cardinals (in red) and bishops (in purple) both during and outside of formal religious ceremonies. Priests may wear a simple black zuchetto, only outside of religious services, though this is almost never seen except as a practical garment used for warmth by some monks. Some priests who held special titles (certain ranks of monsignori and some canons, for instance) formerly wore black zuchettos with red or purple piping, but this too has fallen out of use except in a few, extremely rare cases.

[edit] Eastern Christianity

 

Today in Eastern Orthodoxy and in the Eastern Catholic Churches of Byzantine Rite, there are three types of tonsure: baptismal, monastic, and clerical. It always consists of the cutting of four locks of hair in a cruciform pattern: at the front of head as the celebrant says "In the Name of the Father", at the back of head at the words "and the Son", and on either side of the head at the words "and the Holy Spirit". In all cases, the hair is allowed to grow back; the tonsure as such is not adopted as a hairstyle.

 

Baptismal tonsure is performed during the rite of Holy Baptism as a first sacrificial offering by the newly baptized. This tonsure is always performed, whether the one being baptized is an infant or an adult.

 

Monastic tonsure (of which there are three grades: Rassophore, Stavrophore and the Great Schema), is the rite of initiation into the monastic state, symbolic of cutting off of self-will. Orthodox monks traditionally never cut their hair or beards after receiving the monastic tonsure as a sign of the consecration of their lives to God (reminiscent of the Vow of the Nazirite).

 

Clerical tonsure is the equivalent of the "first tonsure" in the Latin church. It is done immediately prior to ordination to the minor order of reader but is not repeated at subsequrent ordinations.[7] This led to a once common usage that one was, for instance, "tonsured a reader", although technically the tonsure occurs prior to the prayer of ordination within the ordination rite.

[edit] Buddhism

 

In Buddhism tonsure is a part of the rite of pabbajja and also a part of becoming a monk. This involves shaving head and face. This tonsure is renewed as often as required to keep the head cleanly shaven.

[edit] Hinduism

 

In Hinduism, the underlying concept is that hair is a symbolic offering to the gods, representing a real sacrifice of beauty, and in return, are given blessings in proportion to their sacrifice.

 

Hair cutting (Sanskrit cuda karma, cuda karana) is one of traditional saṃskāras performed for young children:

 

"According to the teaching of the revealed texts, the Kudakarman (tonsure) must be performed, for the sake of spiritual merit, by all twice-born men in the first or third year."[8]

 

In some traditions the head is shaven completely while in others a small tuft of hair called sikha is left.

 

In some South Indian temples like Tirumala, Palani and Tiruttani it is customary for pilgrims to shave their heads in or near the temple of the god they are visiting.

 

There has been an Indian custom to perform a tonsure on widows after their husbands' death. It is not uncommon to tonsure the head of a child after the death of a parent (usually father).

 

K. Jamanadas has argued that tonsure was originally a Buddhist costum and that Brahmanic practices always considered tonsure inauspicious.[9]

 

Tonsuring in the in the Hindu culture serves multiple purposes and is used as a symbol. One of Its most prominent purposes is to show ones love for the God by washing away their past and starting anew [10]. Moreover tonsuring can be used for punishment or to show that someone is an outcast in society because of the law they have broken . It is also used as a way to raise money for local synagogues which is where women across India become victims of the more powerful leaders .Firstly, the art of tonsuring originated before the Common Era . The original purpose for tonsuring was to show ones devotion to the Gods by shaving their heads clean, women included, and start their lives anew. By shaving their heads, it enabled these people to free themselves from their past sins and continue on with purer lives. However over the course of thousands of years, tonsuring has found new functions. Tonsuring can denote ones social class or personal standing. For example, someone with a closely shaven head is practicing celibacy . A social outcast will have a completely bald heads while men that are ardently religious will shave their heads only leaving a sihka 1.Seoncdly tonsuring can be used for punishing people for dastardly crimes. For example in mid June 2009, a Hindu woman was accused of killing her husband alongside her two sons. She was then beaten in public and shaven bald, which is also symbolic of social ostracizing [11]. There are many other cases of tonsuring being used for that purpose however when used for that, people are shaven clean leaving them completely bald. Punishment for women with tonsuring is more severe, sadly, than with men. This is due to the social injustices that women have to face within the Hindu culture. In the modern era, tonsuring has been used as a way of generating income for the Hindu community while unfortunately victimizing the female community. For example, the American hair industry uses the free trade process to make profit not only for them but the people of India . The free trade works as such: the American hair industry buys the hair materials directly from the Hindu populace to later use in their community; after generating an amount of income a percentage of it (usually more) is given back to the Hindu community[12]. This money is used by the Hindu people to fund the expansion of their synagogues and helping their community. Unfortunately, many Hindu women are forced to shave their heads against their will and face brutality from their community leaders. This has become a problem within this community and higher leaders are trying to find ways to solve the issue. Even so, it is a very gray area and it has proven to become hard to stop because it has moved to an “underground” state . Political leaders are not stopping and are still trying to find ways to prevent the persecution of their women by these community leaders.

[edit] Islam

 

It is a ritual for pilgrims on the event of Hajj to shave their heads before entering Mecca. Shaving off hair from the head was considered an ancient symbol of becoming a slave in Arabia and when a pilgrim shaves his head, he declares himself to be the slave of his Lord.[13]

 

Martin Luther held that the mark of the beast was the tonsured haircut worn by Roman Catholic clergy.[14]

==The Gotham Royal Hotel==

 

The West Balcony: Floor 22

 

Before either had had a chance to recover from their earlier misunderstanding, Gar and Jenna were joined on the balcony by David Franco, who took little notice of either of them whilst he concluded his phone call. Accompanying him, was Ramsey Rosso, the same bodyguard who had rudely intruded upon the pair's reunion earlier that night.

 

"Very good, Henry," Franco spoke into his phone. "Wait for me at the rendezvous." He cleared his throat, and tapped Jenna on the shoulder. "That was Henry, Jelly Bean. We should go." His previously smug smile faltered, when he finally noticed Lynns beside her.

 

'Jelly Bean?' Gar looked over at Jenna, catching her face turning ever so slightly red in embarrassment.

 

'Who's Henry? Another boyfriend?' Sharpe said to himself, still listening in on them through the comms.

 

"Who's Henry? Another boyfriend?" Gar repeated without thinking.

 

The muffled sound of Sharpe face-palming could be heard from the other side of the earpiece.

 

"Gar!" Jenna scowled reproachfully.

 

"Sorry," he spluttered. "Bad joke. I'm, uh, not very good at them.

 

"Apparently not," Franco glared at him suspiciously. "Jelly Bean?" he repeated impatiently. "Something I should know about?"

 

Jenna shook her head, her anger rising. "He was just sharing work notes, Davey. God! I'll be there in a sec."

 

"Jelly Bean-" he began.

 

"Don't call me Jelly Bean."

 

"Fine." Clearly irritated, Franco held his hands up in the air in defeat, and sauntered off.

 

'Smooth,' Sharpe whistled

 

Lobby: Ground Floor

 

They'd been sitting there for two hours now: Kuttler, was sat by the monitors, Mayo, was finishing off his third Big Belly Burger. So far, nothing. No loud noises, no booby traps, no intruders; just the drunk chattering of party guests on the security cameras, the smacking of Mayo's lips and the clacking of Kuttler's slender fingers on the nearby keyboard.

Bored, and still rather peckish, Mayo rolled his chair over to Kuttler's side, and let out a long yawn. "Still nothing?" he asked.

 

"The entire building is monitored by this security room. If there's a breach in protocol, we'll know," Kuttler said calmly.

 

"Kay, cool," Mayo nodded unsurely. "But, say... Mr Polka Dot's with them," he pointed out. "Couldn't he just... Portal them in?"

 

"The insulin that I spiked him with should keep him incapacitated for a few days, but in the event that it doesn't, we have a contingency. Here, screw this in," Kuttler instructed Mayo. 'Ah, it'll do,' he thought, as he added the finishing touches to the small device.

 

"You see," he elaborated, "The dots he peels from his costume are one thing, simple nanotechnology: The fireballs, the buzzsaws, the explosives... The ones he summons seemingly from thin air, are another matter entirely: rifts in the skin of reality which he harnesses from that infernal belt of his. Which is why I've cobbled together this old thing:" he stated, presenting Mayo with the finished device: a lightweight, black and grey square of some kind. "Be careful with it, it's not a toy. It's a dimensional neutraliser."

 

"Bit small isn't it? You really think that'll stop him?" Mayo asked, his scruffy mono-brow furrowing.

 

"It had better," Kuttler began, hastily changing his attitude upon registering the concern on Mayo's face. "I- Theoretically, yes. I tried out a prototype on The Folded Man some years ago. Imploded the poor man... Luthor, had wanted a contingency in-place in the event that Swift, Shade, ever betrayed us... Didn't quite pan out, these things never do...

This new one is non-lethal, per your friend Brown's specifications. It should simply sever the connection between him and the dimensions he harnesses his portals from. The only problem is, it needs to be directly applied to his costume for the signal to work, which is no small feat. I, am diabetic, and you... really should have diabetes too," he added, casting his eye towards the stack of fast food wrappers.

 

Mayo kicked the floor glumly. "That's not really fair... I exercise! Sometimes."

 

"Uhuh." Unmoved by his hurt feelings and feeble protests, Kuttler's attention was drawn elsewhere, as a faint sound pierced the air, like the whistle of the wind on a cold winter morning. "No, it's too soon..." he said under his breath. "Mayo," he whispered to his charge. "You need to get this device to Flannegan. He'll know what to do," he stated, placing the small device into the palm of Mayo's hand.

 

"Got it," Mayo replied dutifully, tucking it inside one of his mismatched socks. "But what about you-?"

 

"I'll manage," Kuttler stated, as he opened a drawer beneath his desk, retrieved a syringe and a small torch, and strutted off into the direction of the noise. As he loaded the syringe with insulin, his hand was intercepted by a bony arm.

 

"Uh uh," a voice responded. "You're not taking me out the same way twice.

 

"How the hell did you get in here?" Kuttler asked.

 

"I cycled. How the fuck do you think? I Portaled in. Jesus, and you're meant to be the smart one," the intruder answered with a curled lip, almost offended by the question

 

"Ah, Krill," Kuttler spoke, pointing his torch at the intruder's face with his free hand. "You're looking well. For someone recovering from an insulin overdose."

 

The torchlight glinted off the plastic feeding tube around Krill's nose, and he winked back unabashedly. "Oh, all better now, thank you," he gestured with his right hand, tightening his grip on Kuttler's wrist with his left. "I ate a dozen Knickerbocker Glories and a New York cheesecake on the way over here. You would not believe the amount of traffic there is on my commute."

 

"I agree. I wouldn't," Kuttler remarked.

 

Distracted, Krill turned to Mayo's abandoned soda, dabbed the straw, and took an obnoxious slurp of the liquid. "So, Pointless," he slurped, taking a note of the discarded food wrappers, "Who else is here?"

 

"Whatever do you mean?" Kuttler asked aerily.

 

Seeing through the lie, Krill snapped impatiently. "Now, don't play coy, you diabetic doughboy. No way you ate all this by yourself."

 

"Must've been the hotel staff," he said blankly.

 

Impatient, Krill shoved him aside, and marched into the main annex. Kuttler, breathed a sigh of relief: Mayo, was nowhere to be seen. 'He's quicker than I expected,' he thought privately.

 

Still unconvinced, Krill slapped Kuttler across the face. "If it was the hotel staff's, then how come the soda's still cold, you prick? How come the ice ain't melted?" he spat.

 

'Abner, what's taking so long?' a voice called into Krill's headset, and the Polka Dot Man reluctantly turned his attention away from the fast food investigation.

 

"Had a run in with one of your boys that's all," he relaxed.

 

'Charlie?' the voice asked excitedly.

 

"Nah: Kuttler, the science nerd. The one I was telling you about."

 

'Is he going to be a problem?'

 

Krill smirked as he looked down at Kuttler's stirring body. "Shouldn't think so, no," he replied, as he swung his leg back, and kicked him in the stomach.

 

~-~

 

"Boss, the passcodes worked, looks like Krill's contact was true to his word," a henchman spoke. "The building is ours."

 

"There's a surprise..." Day muttered, as he knelt down beside Kuttler's bloodied figure. "Is he alive?" he inquired.

 

"Yeah, yeah. I know you have a fetish for these clowns," Krill replied.

 

Day tutted disapprovingly. "You shouldn't have attacked him."

 

"He shouldn't have stuck a syringe of insulin in my neck. Lousy git anyhow: all the charm and warmth of a weekday Wetherspoons. What do you want me to do with 'im?"

 

A thin smile broke across Day's face. "Bring him upstairs. It's high time we introduced ourselves."

 

North Corridor. Floor 22

 

Drury put his finger to his temple, and frowned. "That's weird," he noted.

 

"What?" Gaige asked grumpily.

 

"Getting some kind of interference from the lobby..." Drury addressed Gaige, before returning to his earpiece. "Ballroom team, this is Drury: We've lost contact with Kuttler. Mayo too. I repeat; the lobby team has been compromised. Make your way over to the east hallway, and we'll work out a plan."

 

"What about the guests?" Chuck asked. "Shouldn't we notify them-?"

 

"Not Jules' target," Drury assured him. "Just you lot head on over to the east hall. I'll be there shortly."

 

The Ballroom: Floor 22

 

Mid conversation with Manga Khan, Rigger replied "Copy that."

 

Now with an excuse to escape the mug-based conversation that had, by his estimate, been going on for about half an hour, he looked over towards the emergency exit sign, and started to move towards it. "Ok, that's really interesting," he said agitatedly, barely listening to Manga's lecture.

 

"See, it is interesting. People think mugs are simple, and they are, but there's so much more to it!" the golden man cackled enthusiastically.

 

"I tell you what," Rigger said, cutting Manga off, and handing him a small business card. "Here, is my work number. Call that whenever, and we can talk more about those mugs of yours, eh, bud?"

 

As Rigger walked to the door, his phone started to buzz, and as he glanced over his shoulder, sure enough there was Manga, holding the phone to his ear expectantly.

 

"Well, um, well not now obviously," Rigger stammered into the receiver.

 

Sionis Penthouse: Floor 48

 

"Penthouse team, how can we help?" Reardon asked.

 

"You can start by getting Sionis somewhere safe," Drury's voice responded. "Is there someplace he can lay low? A place Day wouldn't know about?"

 

"Wouldn't be much of a mob boss if there wasn't... There's a series of old service tunnels below the building. They come out beneath the south Steel Mill. Reinforced steel, would've survived the quake," Sionis spoke.

 

"Can you get to it from there?" Drury inquired.

 

"Sure. There's an opening on the thirteenth floor... the architects were superstitious like that."

 

"Go," Drury advised.

 

North Corridor: Floor 22

 

Tilting his head back to Gaige, Drury smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that; duty calls," he stated, hesitating slightly. "We can talk more later, but just- Look," he paused. If you're planning to start a gang war here, tonight, I really need to know," he pleaded.

 

"Oh, like you were planning on telling me about Day?" Gaige rolled his eyes. "God, you are a self important ass sometimes..."

 

"It's part of my charm," Drury joked.

 

"No, it's pretty fucking tedious actually."

 

"Just, listen, the Misfits... they're a family to me. Always have been. And, well, right now, they need me. If their safety, is in any way jeopardised because of some revenge scheme, then-"

 

"No. No, they aren't," Gaige stated, cutting him off. "You have a family," he reminded him. "Three kids that, right now, need their father far more than the Dice Boy or the Hang-Glider ever have. It's time you remembered that. Those weirdos, those friends of yours? They're grown men. Strange, yes. Degenerates, abso-fucking-lutely. But grown men all the same."

 

Drury paused. "Four kids," he corrected Gaige.

 

"Squealy girl, emo boy and the pre-schooler. Who am I missing?"

 

"Simon. Lightning Bug?"

 

"Ah, the Superhero," Gaige said disdainfully. "See that's what happens when you don't have a father figure in your life... What goes around comes around, I guess," he added regrettably. "Take you, for example, stuck in some pointless war with Ted Carson, who's that for? It's not for your kids. It's not for your Misfits, so don't give me that bullshit; Even if those weirdos were dependant on you, and they're not, it's not their fight. It's not their war. It's yours-"

 

"Now, you wait a second, I didn't want this-! Any of this!" Drury argued.

 

"-And for a long time now, you've been treading water, doing the same old crap, in a bitter bloody cycle: You trap him: he escapes, you kill him: he's resurrected- doesn't matter, either way he's back, so he seeks revenge... you have a dick measuring contest...then once you're bored, you kill him again- or bring in someone else who can-"

 

"That's not fair! Carson struck first. He ran over Gar, he got the cops on my tail, he tried to murder me at Gotham General. If I'd left the Misfits alone, there's no telling what he'd have done. They're safer by my side!"

 

"Hah. That's not strictly true, is it?" Gaige growled. "I'm sure it was fun, at first. That little Tom and Jerry routine of yours. But then, his daughter got involved: then it was a problem. Cause now- Daddy's out of the picture, and it doesn't look like he's coming back.

And she's young, and grief stricken, so she uses her inheritance, a little from her dad, a little from her mom and her creepy uncle, and she backs the Society.

So what do you do? You go to the League of fucking Assassins, and you ask them for help. So don't- Don't tell me that I wasn't there, that I don't understand your, uh, family feud, cause I do. My daughter died for it, and the Misfits will die for it until you learn to let them, and this fucking war of yours, go. Break the fucking cycle."

 

Drury stared into Gaige's eyes, the same eyes he'd kept hidden behind a scarf or diving helmet since before they'd met, and he swallowed. "Yes, sir," he said coldly, as he walked down the hallway. Passing him on his way out, was David Franco, looking slightly disheveled, and his ever-present bodyguard. Composing himself, the White Mask approached Gaige and smiled his usual insincere smile.

 

"Physician, it's time," he celebrated with an unwelcome hug. "Oh; bee-tee-dubs, I caught what you said to that moth loser; some of it, that is. Fucking wild man. Well said, just wish I'd had my phone on me-" ​

 

Very suddenly, Gaige grabbed Franco by his collar and flung him against the concrete wall. "That 'moth loser' is the Demon Slayer. Show him some fucking respect."

 

As Franco attempted to wriggle free of Gaige's iron grip, Rosso moved in to intervene, as large black veins rose to the surface of his skin.

 

"Not... Now... Ramsay..." Franco gasped, as his skin flushed a deep red.

 

"You three, stop!" a fourth man interrupted them.

 

Gaige dropped Franco to the ground, as he turned around.

 

A group of armed henchmen had blindsided the trio, their machine guns aimed at their chests. "You're coming with us," the leader of the group announced.

 

Gaige's eyes narrowed, as he examined each of the thugs in turn. "Is that a bobble hat, son?" he raised an amused eyebrow.

 

==Bathroom: Floor 22==

 

"Sir is a big boy now, Major, he can wash his hands aaaaaaalllll by himself," Dufus announced proudly.

 

"I ain't taking that chance," Booker replied agitatedly. "I've seen where you put those oversized sausage fingers when you think no one's looking. Eating boogers... Boogers! This! Was our chance to hit the big leagues!"

 

"You always say that, Maj," the Mighty Bruce replied tiredly.

 

"And, Bruce! I'm always right! I can't help it if an army of penguins or the JLI, or an unforeseen, overbearing night school teacher gets in our way sometimes."

 

"Every time."

 

Before he had time to think up a retort, Booker was interrupted by some kind of commotion outside. "What was that?" he wondered from a moment, then shrugged. "Meh, someone else can handle it."

 

The Ballroom: Floor 22

 

"Woo! Gotta give ol' Black Face this, he knows how to throw a party," Abner Krill declared loudly as Gaige, Franco and Rosso were escorted into the main ballroom, their hands raised above their heads in surrender. The other guests were all huddled together in the center of the room, kept at bay by more of The Calendar Man's armed henchmen.

Day himself, was stood on the stage, a large spherical drum positioned behind him. "Round up the stragglers," he murmured to his closest henchmen. "There's always one or two troublemakers... Lock down the elevators and bring anyone you find to the ballroom." The henchmen, unbeknownst to the crowd, were Joker goons, and each wore matching Christmas jumpers and hats, no doubt per Day's request. "Now, ladies, gentlemen, Misfits... would you all mind staying where you are. Please, draw your attention to the device behind me. Some of you, may have already recognised it, but for those of you not in the know-"

 

Kuttler, let out a strained cough as one of the henchmen dragged him to the front of the stage.

 

"Mr Kuttler," Day smiled. "Do you mind explaining to the crowd what this device is?"

 

"Screw you..." Kuttler spat.

 

"Come now, Noah. No need for that," Day responded. The closest thug, slammed Kuttler in the face with the butt of their gun. "Let's try that again," Day drawled.

 

"It's a dispersal device," Kuttler mumbled.

 

"Louder, please."

 

"It's a dispersal device. Loosely based on Stagg's Cloudburst, the device that the Society... my Society... used in it's attack on the city two years ago."

 

"That it is. Don't worry, it's harmless, empty, inactive: Just for show, a visual aide if you like. It's sister device, which is being planted somewhere in this building as we speak, is not. That, is armed with a chemical concoction that you may well be familiar with. Fearless."

 

In the crowd, Drury reached for his holstered cocoon gun and motioned to Chuck and Gar. 'Fearless,' he mouthed anxiously.

Chuck, put his hand against his breast pocket, reaching not for the holstered gun, but rather the small capsule of medication Kuttler had given him earlier that week. 'A last resort,' he reminded himself, privately dismissing what he considered to be a very dangerous train of thought. 'A last resort only.' He would not stoop to the same underhanded tactics that claimed his boy's life. He couldn't.

 

"But do not be alarmed," Day continued unimpeded. "Fearless is not a curse. It is my tool, my gift: a liberating baptism, to wash the doubt and anxiety from your minds."

 

At this, a robotic voice cleared his throat.

 

"Excuse me, good sir," Manga Khan interrupted. "Excuse me, but if it's a barter you want, a barter you'll get. I will gladly take your primitive little dispersal devices, and in return, you will be placed on the waitlist for my spring fashion line."

 

"What's that idiot doing?" Drury hissed at Rigger.

 

"Hell if I know," he replied.

 

"Well, he's going to get himself killed." Flannegan stated.

 

Day's brow furrowed, his usual cool demeanor shattered. "I don't- What is this? What-? Did someone- Did someone bring a robot here?" he asked Manga.

 

"That, is Lord Manga," Krill explained. "Think QVC in space. Do you still do those 'I'm with Stupid' shirts?" he asked.

 

Manga, gestured to his robotic aide. "That 'robot' is L-Ron, my servant, secretary and lackey, thank you very much. And yes, I do."

 

"I do wish you wouldn't call me that, M'Lord," the stubby robot at Lord Manga's side stated.

 

"What's wrong with 'secretary?' It's a vital and well respected position in any given organisat-"

 

With a toss of one of Krill's buzzsaw-like dots, Manga's head was sliced cleanly sliced off its' shoulders, as it clattered to the ground, its' body following soon after. A cloud of pink mist rose from the armour and floated out through the open window.

 

"I can always get the shirt off Amazon," Krill justified his decision.

 

Day nodded, shaken slightly by the encounter. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to leave you in the more than capable hands of my henchmen. I, have a grievance to air with your host. Abner!" he clicked his tongue.

 

"Minute. Want to see if they've got any of those mini eclairs."

 

With Day distracted, Drury and company tuned into their communication devices.

 

"Can anyone hear me? Mr Moth? It's Mayo. ​We're in something of a pickle here. Krill's here, took The Calculator, I think. Maybe."

 

"Gee, where were you ten

minutes ago..." Gar mumbled.

 

"Under a desk," Mayo said nonchalantly.

 

"Mitch, Mr Moth was dad's name. Call me, Drury, please," Drury reprimanded him.

 

"Forget about that, Dru. Mayo, you're free?" Chuck stammered.

 

"Yeah! Listen, I'll come to you!" he said confidently.

 

"No, wait, don't," Drury hissed.

 

...

 

"Please don't."

​

But the plea fell on deaf ears: For now, the fate of every man, woman and Misfit in the Gotham Royal rested in the greasy hands of the Condiment King.

A perfect launch of my Telstar Logistics / LOC Precision V2.0 with the biggest motor possible, an L730 imported from Cesaroni, a Canadian aerospace & defense company. Their unique thermoplastic propellant burns cleanly, showing multiple shock diamonds.

 

In the foreground is a videocam on tripod for scale. Black Rock is in the distance. Best viewed large.

 

But this beautiful flight proved to be a swan song….

My camera pushed to the very limits of its light-gathering capabilities. Shot wide open at f/2.8, 25s at ISO 6400 on a dark moonless night. The only light is from the stars, and the faint glow of Roanoke to my right. In the future, as technology improves, cameras will be able to resolve these images cleanly. I hope.

This is what I have so far. Now I "only" need to shape the rest of scales and collapse tail and head :D

 

This is my second attempt to Ryujin 3.5. This time I've started collapsing from the legs to make shaping scales on them easier. They look much better than in my first fold, when I collapsed legs in the end and wasn't able to shape scales cleanly. I think it was a good idea to start folding from the legs. I hope I'll be able to finish it soon.

 

Paper: 165 cm x 165 cm rice paper "Wenzhou"

Uzbekistan

unpretentious, cleanly, friendly and with social interest

Un bello pueblo, una vista preciosa, todo limpio y una gaviota...¿que mas se puede pedir?....

Ein schönes Dorf, herrliche Aussicht, alles sauber und eine Möve...bleiben da noch Wünsche offen??

A beautiful village, wonderful view, everything cleanly and a Seegul… there still desires remain open??

 

best in large!!! ver en grande!!

 

I was browsing through my shots looking for something to edit and post and this shot really stood out for me. It photographed quite cleanly, the colors were solid and I really liked how the frame was. Every time I ride the shots seem to be hit or miss because I'm shooting lasers with 1 hand and photos with the other. Not the best method for good shots but with a high enough shutter speed it works.

 

Also be sure to check out the second episode in my Disney Photo Editing Video Series which I released today. I do a 5 shot HDR bracket this week and toss in some fireworks for good measure. I touch on a lot of techniques and even more advanced users are sure to pick up something new. Check it out at www.youtube.com/watch?v=z3eJsn7QqvY

 

TheTimeTheSpace - My Portfolio | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | My 500px

  

I've modified my Vest Pocket Kodak cameras so that they may be attached to my Sony DSLR-A100. In this picture a camera made in 1914 meets one from 2006, and they take pictures together.

 

The backplate of the camera can be screwed off, originally for purposes of cleaning the rear of the lens. I've removed the backplate and attached an M42 extension tube with double-sided tape, sealed against light leaks with some blu-tack. The camera can now be mounted as a lens on any M42 screw mount SLR camera (including modern DSLRs with M42 adapters). When used on a DSLR with in-body anti-shake and possibly an electronic M42 adapter (as required for Sony), one can even get image stabilisation and focus confirmation working for this old thing. I bet the original designers never saw that coming. =)

 

This simple modification is completely reversible; the extension tube can be torn off cleanly and the original backplace screwed back on. If I had film for this camera, I could also just put a cap on the extension tube and install film.

 

The important thing about choosing the extension tube is to make sure it's short enough to allow infinity focus to be reached when attached to an SLR camera (test by attaching the tube to the SLR and holding the camera in front of it before applying tape, but be sure to account for the thickness of the tape). Also, make sure it's long enough to screw on with the camera attached without hitting the protruding flash on many modern (D)SLRs. Most fortunately I managed to have a tube with the exact length to focus at infinity with the bellows fully closed... and I didn't even measure beforehand.

 

As a positive side effect of using the camera with the bellows closed at infinity focus, any light leaks in the bellows won't matter as they aren't exposed to light. And, for finite distances, extending the bellows allows extremely close focusing distances making the camera a macro lens.

 

I did a similar modification for my Contessa Nettel Cocarette camera as well.

 

For more background information, see this forum thread.

 

For test shots, see the set comments.

 

For all pictures taken of or with Vest Pocket Kodaks, follow this tag.

The flickering LED I got for the headlamp came in a 2-pack, so I gave it a try installing one in the firebox door. The wiring is a little messier now, but I think it's a cool effect and I'm going to keep it.

 

I have a feeling I'm going to have another small revision to the chassis in the future, if and when that happens I'll figure out how to take care of the wires more cleanly.

28 July 2019. From 58th Street and Sutton Place Park, Manhattan.

 

Officially the "Queensborough Bridge" and, more recently, the "Ed Koch Queensborough Bridge", but immortalized as the 59th Street Bridge by the eponymous Simon and Garfunkel song (AKA "Feelin' Groovy"). The bridge span is actually closer to 60th Street than 59th.

 

This is admittedly a rather cliche image (especially in B&W at night; think Woody Allen's frightfully problematic but beautifully shot "Manhattan"), but the bridge will become increasingly difficult to capture cleanly from Manhattan as development on Roosevelt Island continues. So here's my contribution to a crowded field.

 

Phase One IQ3 Trichromatic 100MP back (@ISO 35), 80mm/2.8 Blue Ring LS (@f/8), 60 sec. Phase One XF body. Full resolution available.

 

No emulsions were harmed in the making of this image.

 

948

Close-up of Greek Cross Flagstone Tessellation — you can read more about the model from the linked page, but now is time to review the paper it is folded from: Khepera.

 

I learned about Khepera from Robin Scholz several years ago and I’ve become a fan of this paper, though I must warn you up-front that it’s good only for some kinds of models. This paper comes in several colors, all of which share a characteristic pattern of lighter speckles. The sheet is very opaque, even against a strong back-light. Overall, I like the way this paper looks very much. As a rare bonus, this paper is thermo-sensitive which means its color darkens when exposed to heat. I don’t know the exact temperature required for the reaction to take place, but it’s certainly higher than what the warm air from a hairdryer can provide. Putting the paper close to an open flame does the job but is rather dangerous for the model for obvious reasons. I haven’t tried using an oven since to get an interesting effect, the point is applying the modification only to some parts and not the whole model.

 

Khepera was originally designed as a bookbinding paper, so it’s thick (130 gsm) and strong. This makes it a great paper for corrugations and tessellations with few layers of paper (such as this one) but not too good for folding fine detail. There is a noticeable difference in bending resistance when folding parallel and perpendicular to machine direction (paper grain). This makes folding along diagonals precisely a bit hard since the crease tends to sway a little in the direction parallel to the grain.

 

When, as is necessary for cleanly precreasing this model, you fold creases that end in the middle of the paper, with the rest of the paper being bent without creasing, some of the crease seeps through to the bent area. It’s not terrible, but worse than with Elephant Hide. On the bright side, while creases on the mountain side are sharp and well-defined, they can be to a large degree “rubbed out” with a bone folder if a crease accidentally goes too far. The paper does not stretch much, so even after lots of precreasing, the sheet remains quite flat and overall precreasing is quite precise.

 

This paper is quite stiff which makes collapses easy. While it’s not very versatile, it is just great for the kind of models it is good for, such as corrugations. I also like the look very much and consider this paper one of the lesser known, but true gems of the paper industry.

Blijft toch een fraaie, indrukwekkende trein, een schoongewassen VIRM treinstel; hier de 8657, die als trein 642 onderweg is van Leeuwarden naar Utrecht Centraal en hier de brug over de Eem, nabij de Amersfoortse Koppelpoort passeert.

Deze voormalige VIRM VI is in het voorjaar van 2020 verbouwd tot VIRMm

 

Het opvallende gebouw op de achtergrond is Restaurant Dara, naar een ontwerp van de Engelse architect Sean Griffiths van FAT London. In 2012 is het pand genomineerd voor de prestigieuze RIBA award van het Royal Institute of British Architects.

Meerdere keren per jaar wordt een andere, opmerkelijke cq ludieke tekst op het reclamebord, op het dak, getoond.

  

Still a beautiful, impressive train, a cleanly washed VIRM trainset; here the 8657, which as train 642 is on its way from Leeuwarden to Utrecht Central Station and here passes the bridge over the Eem, near the Amersfoortse Koppelpoort.

This former VIRM VI was converted into VIRMm in the spring of 2020

The striking building in the background is Restaurant Dara, designed by English architect Sean Griffiths of FAT London. In 2012, the building was nominated for the prestigious RIBA award from the Royal Institute of British Architects.

Several times a year, a different, remarkable or playful text is shown on the billboard, on the roof.

 

A cleanly presented Bi-mode FLIRT 755328 winds it's way out of Norwich at Trowse Newton on the 17th February 2020. The 3 car unit works the 1K67 0927 Norwich to Stansted Airport service.

She'd always been superstitious. And she knew it was ridiculous. How she buttoned her shirt in the morning... which foot hit the first stair first... how many times she turned around and glanced back into a room before crossing the threshold out the door... which plate she chose for breakfast... where she walked on the way to school...

 

All these things... and many many more... were laden (for her) with meanings and portents.

 

She didn't always know what the portents were. Didn't always understand the cause and effect. But she felt very strongly that she MUST do certain things in certain ways... or else.

 

The logical part of her mind would dispute it. She'd find herself standing at the cutlery drawer, thinking about which fork to take... and whether to take it by the tines or the handle.

 

The logical brain would quickly lose patience and say "Fer crissakes. Just take a bloody fork and be done with it."

 

But the superstitious brain was stronger... and so she'd fret and worry and take a long time making what she really hoped would be the right decision.

 

As she got older, she found herself more able to quiet the superstitious brain. Sometimes she'd ignore it, just to prove that nothing bad would happen.

 

The problem was... something bad inevitably happened. Major or minor, sooner or later. Life was full of bad things. It couldn't be avoided.

 

And the logical part of her brain saw and knew this. But the superstitious part fed on it.

 

When something did go wrong... (as it must, eventually) she'd find herself seeking superstitious reasons.

 

Must have buttered the wrong slice of toast first. Must have chosen the wrong t-shirt. Must not have the stroked the cat enough times, or filled and emptied the water glass enough times before drinking. Or... was it maybe too many times?

 

This was very frustrating. She tried hard to break cleanly free of the superstitious brain. And the best way she could think of was to totally defy it.

 

So she did.

 

Against her instincts... against her superstitions... she told people details of a choice she was grappling with. And people were supportive. And people said "Go for it!" And people helped her make up her mind in the end.

 

And then... when she was feeling very good about that... fate turned around and slapped her down.

 

Suddenly the thing she'd been grappling with... the thing she'd decided that she DID want, very much... was no longer an option; no longer on the table. It was simply snatched away - no warning, no recourse.

 

And she felt very much that it was her fault; that she should've kept her metaphoric mouth shut.

 

And then... as she sat there stewing... she realized...

 

She was prepared to accept any outcome.

 

Getting what she wanted would've been great. But not getting it was fine, too. In fact, it might've just been for the best.

 

So the circumstance that could've sent her spinning back into the sickly circular world of superstition... where everything's linked as cause-and-effect... ended up helping her to see more clearly. She felt very strong. She didn't NEED superstition. What happened would happen. And she'd carry on.

 

Although...

 

She perked up her ears a bit...

 

The superstitious brain was whispering to her...

 

What?

 

What's that?

 

Post a picture of myself upsidedown to REVERSE the jinx?

 

Hmmm... she thought.

 

That sounds logical...

 

Good thing I'm not superstitious any more...

This former madrasa, once a center of Islamic education, now serves a different purpose. Its historic cells have been repurposed into small shops selling traditional crafts, ceramics, and textiles — part of a broader trend across Uzbekistan where heritage sites are preserved but adapted for cultural tourism.

 

While souvenir shops can add charm and accessibility to historical sites, they quickly become repetitive when every shop offers the same products. What starts as authentic can easily feel over-commercialized. As Uzbekistan welcomes more visitors, it still needs to find the right balance between showcasing its rich heritage and preserving each site's uniqueness.

In the background, the blue-striped Center of Islamic Civilization dome is still under construction. I chose this composition carefully — one of the few places where I could frame the new dome cleanly, without cranes or construction fences.

 

The richly tiled dome in the foreground belongs to the older structure. Together, they create a visual contrast between preserved tradition and a modern effort to shape the future of Islamic scholarship in the region.

Welcome to 2022, everyone – I hope it’s a good year! Above you’ll find the teaser photo for our first feature destination, photos of which begin uploading on Tuesday. But I do want to note that my upload schedule is changing this year – after Tuesday, the next set will (hopefully) be on Friday. Then the following Monday. Then Thursday, and Sunday, and so on. The idea – as it stands right now – is that I’ll be posting every third day. Of course, that may not actually stick, and uploads may become even more sporadic than that; we’ll just have to wait and see what happens. I say all of this in the event that any of y’all actually care, but most likely my schedule means nothing to you anyway, so long story short just keep an eye out for uploads and you’ll see them when you see them :P

 

I really did like the T/Th/Sat system that I adopted only a short time ago, at the beginning of 2020. Uploading five photos at a time, three times a week, seemed to do a pretty good job of – in theory – giving me shorter photosets to work with while also uploading more in any given week. However, in practice, I would wind up writing multiple days’ worth of descriptions at a time, bypassing the benefit of capping each set at five pics. With the way my job will be these next few months, it’s practically a necessity that I don’t write more than five descriptions at a time, hence the schedule change to ensure I have more time between each set, and thus don’t feel pressured to write more than one set’s worth at one time. Again, I may find that I’ll need to space stuff out even longer than three days between each upload, but hopefully not. In any case, what will remain is the system of uploading 15 pics from one store before transitioning to another – in other words, the stores you’ll be seeing in my photostream won’t be cleanly uploaded on a week-by-week basis from now on. But that, too, shouldn’t make too much of a difference on y’all’s end (I hope).

 

I’ve never, ever been this unplanned/flexible with my uploading before – I haven’t even decided what I’m gonna upload next, beyond this first series – so this is a new adventure for me, lol. In that sense, the sign you see in this image is appropriate in more ways than one – bear with me, and pardon my dust! Anyway, leave your guesses in the comments below, and we’ll see who’s right come Tuesday night…

 

(c) 2022 Retail Retell

These places are public so these photos are too, but just as I tell where they came from, I'd appreciate if you'd say who :)

 

This piece is considerably larger than most of my beach finds. It arrived over the weekend in a storm caused by the weather system that wreaked so much havoc in the Portland area.

 

I would have left it right where I found it on the sand but for the characters in green that are painted or stenciled on one side. For the sake of clarity, I have used Photo Shop to enhance the areas where the green pigment was faded.

 

I've flipped the image vertically so as to display the characters right side up and upside down. Being illiterate in whatever language this is, I don't know which of the two images is right side up : )

 

My guess is this is a fragment of a lid from a barrel, but I could be wrong. For example, it might be the end of a wooden spool that once held heavy cable.

 

The piece is about 30" long by 7.5" wide. Two pieces of wood are nailed crosswise on the other side. Their left ends are jaggedly broken along a line defined by heavily oxidized nails.

 

If this piece were of Asian origin and had spent a long time in the water, the side that was underwater should have developed a layer of algae and goose barnacles should have been clinging to it. That was not the case.

 

The corroded nails were the only sign of exposure to the elements. Perhaps the wood has some quality that inhibits the growth of marine flora and fauna. However, the surface with the characters does not seem sufficiently weathered to have been floating on the ocean surface for many months.

 

Its condition suggests that it might have been tossed overboard fairly recently from a container ship on a trans-Pacific route.

 

Except for a short section where the wood is broken, the straight side of the object is cleanly cut with no saw marks, suggesting a power tool was used. Why is was cut is, of course, a mystery.

 

Ocean Park, Washington.

 

APPROXIMATE RELEASE DATE: 2005-2011

HEAD MOLD:"Classic"

 

PERSONAL FUN FACT: I had Felicity's Traveling Gown since 2015. I purchased it on eBay after Elizabeth arrived without her original shift. The one sold separately with the Traveling Gown is identical to Bitsy's. Funnily enough, I wrote on my original "Fun Fact" of this outfit that maybe one day I'd have a Felicity doll that would need it. I honestly thought that I was over the desire to own a second Felicity doll by 2021. It had been on my mind since I was a kid. My childhood doll, who was a Christmas present in 1998, was not in the best shape. I used to take her into the woods with me, so she had some scratches and staining on her body. Plus, being a Pleasant Company stock doll she had little face paint and skin that yellowed with age. When American Girl revamped Felicity for Elizabeth's debut in 2005, I was intrigued. If I had stayed into dolls for another year as a kid, there's a chance I would have gotten not just Elizabeth for Christmas, but also a new Felicity. But by 2006, I was "too cool" for dolls. Regardless, I still had that inner desire for another Felicity doll. As an adult collector, it was easy to find her secondhand. I can't even count how many Felicity dolls I've seen at antique stores and flea markets over the years. I've even seen gals from this era, still in their box, for a reasonable price. Every time I felt that desire to buy another Felicity, but I talked myself out of it. When I found out American Girl was redoing Lissie once again for Beforever, I was so sure this would be my upgrade doll.

 

The day Felicity launched on the American Girl website, I was so ecstatic. But that excitement was fleeting...I realized within a minute that only the doll was redone. Mattel had not released any additional outfits for her...just an underwear set (since the doll did not come with a shift). It was so disappointing...plus, Felicity's features were muted. Her green eyes weren't as vibrant, nor was her hair as red seeming in the photos. I wanted a doll who had the same unique qualities as my childhood friend, just in better condition (preferably one made by Mattel with a nicer skin tone and darker face paint). Although I admit i would have bought Beforever Felicity brand new if she had a collection released along side her (plus I was broke back then, which factored into why I decided not to get her). I resolved that I didn't need another Felicity after all. To have a second would be impractical when she didn't have that many outfits made for her. It seemed that once again, Felicity got the short end of the stick...like when she went into partial retirement when I was a kid.

 

Fast forward to 2021, I was finally out of the habit of wanting to buy every historical doll I encountered secondhand. Not that I acted on those impulses often, but for years it was like seeing a celebrity every time I saw say Addy or Julie. I made the mistake of thinking I was immune. Colleen got the opportunity to go to a thrift store for her kids' work study program that September. They hadn't gone to job sites since COVID had hit. But as the state was opening up again without restrictions, the job sites were allowing the kids to return. The local Salvation Army closed in 2020, so I didn't think she'd get to go anywhere cool for work study again. But I was excited when she said she would get to go to this particular thrift store once or twice a month. It's somewhat overpriced, but every so often there is something cool. Her first day at the store, she came home with a bag of American Girl scraps. Nothing was complete, but it was still treasure. She told me that there were more things at the store, but she wasn't sure what was worth buying. She also said there were two AG dolls--a Girl of Today labeled as Kirsten and a Felicity. Immediately my ears perked up..."Felicity? How much was she?" So much for not wanting another Felicity. That weekend the weather was supposed to be rainy. This meant the local flea market wouldn't be worth going to (it's mainly outdoors). So I suggested we go to the thrift store to look at American Girl scraps...but we both knew I wanted to see this Felicity. The moment Colleen first saw this doll at the thrift store, she knew I would have been interested.

 

In the basement of the store, I saw Felicity (doll on the right) and the shabby Girl of Today "Kirsten" on top of the toy shelves. This doll was a mess! I wasn't expecting to be greeted by such a forlorn face. Her hair was tangled and frizzy, her face was coated in grease, and her nails were covered in polish. She was wearing just the purple Traveling Gown and a thick coat of grime. She was $35, less than half the price of "Kirsten" who was in nasty condition as well (and wearing a mishmash of Bitty Baby and Kirsten clothes). I kept telling myself, "I don't NEED this Felicity. Save your money!" I pretended to be more interested in the clothing scraps we were surveying. But inside my brain was screaming to save Lissie. I kept looking up at her. Something seemed off about her face. Then I realized it...she was missing all her lashes on her left eye (right in photos). This is a defect that happens with some dolls--their eyelashes retract back into the lid. Lissie's were fully retracted, meaning I couldn't pull them out and glue them into place. Somehow, this defect made my heart break even more for her. When I heard a child and her mother come down the stairs, I decided to carry Felicity around with me to mull her over more. She needed the help of someone who could fix her up...not a little kid who might make things worse trying to fix her up (I don't think the mother would have bought Felicity anyways...she didn't seem keen on buying any toys).

 

After fifteen minutes or so of debate, I decided I had to buy this Felicity. She needed me, and I knew she'd be a gem once I fixed her up. Despite her scary condition, she had endless potential. Her skin coloring and face paint would be much better since she was a Mattel doll. Plus, I liked that she was the version that debuted with Elizabeth. I wasn't sure what I would do about her eyelash issue, but I knew I'd figure something out. When we got home I set out to clean her up in the routine way. Since she was so dirty, I thought I would also wash her torso and stuffing. Her limbs were insanely tight, so she didn't need a full restring. Sometimes I clean my dolls' torsos and stuffing on their own, so this was an easy task. I pulled her stuffing out, put it in a pillow case, and then ran it through the washing machine. I stuck her torso with limbs attached into some water with detergent for a few minutes. I came back and rinsed off her body. As I was making sure her limbs were free of water (they sometimes fill up during the soaking process), her leg fell cleanly off. I was trying to figure out what happened when her arm also fell straight off. I realized that she had a defect inside her body too. Whoever strung her at the factory clamped down too tightly on the metal inserts. They had full broken, and were only held on by tension. Lissie was a ticking time bomb...luckily she held onto her limbs long enough to make it safely to the thrift store. I checked her attached leg/arm, but the clamps were fine (properly clamped down, not destroyed). Her elastics were also like new--no stretching or wear. Luckily for Lissie, she was an easy fix. I just grabbed some metal washers, bent them, slid them over the elastics, and clamped them down to recreate her inserts. Once her stuffing was out of the dryer, I reassembled her.

 

All the work I put into Felicity had made a world of difference. Her face was no longer greasy, and her skin tone was beautiful. Her wig was shiny and sleek--although her pin curls still weren't perfect. All the nail polish was gone, and I was able to reassemble her limbs that fell off. The eyelash retraction was the only flaw holding her back. I mulled it over for a week. I could have fashioned lashes out of something else (false lashes, fibers from a paintbrush, etc). But I knew that no replacement would actually match her factory eyelashes that were still in the "good" eye. Colleen messaged the "doll doctors" at the American Girl Hospital to see if the eyelash retraction was considered a factory defect. It was not, despite the misinformation from collectors online...which meant I'd have to pay for her new eyes. Colleen rationalized it was a great time to send her in, since the bright green eyes would be available. The 35th Anniversary dolls were recently released, and Lissie's bright green eyes were remade for her. Since she was already a member of the family, and I didn't want to hold her beauty back, I decided to send her in. The experience was quite different than sending Kirsten in, since they offered free shipping. I had to use the Fed Ex drop box instead of going to the post office. Finding a box to fit her in was not easy because of the dimensions it needed to be to be dropped off. I didn't have an American Girl box set aside either (like I did for Kirsten), since this doll was not planned.

 

While Lissie was away, I kept having weird dreams about her getting lost in the mail, losing Kirsten in the mail (she was the last doll to go to the hospital in 2016), and her returning with two heads. I was so eager for her to come back safely. I didn't want her to get held up by the holiday rush. All in all, she was gone less than a month. It was the quickest stay at the hospital our dolls ever had! I knew she was supposed to return that Thursday in late October. I wasn't home, because Colleen had an eye exam in the city. What was supposed to be a fun day, since Colleen got off work early to go to her appointment, turned into a disaster. There was a mix up with her appointment, which lead Colleen to cry on the phone with the eye doctor's office. Then Nomad, my Jeep, started flashing the "Check Gauges" light while we were in the city every time we were at a stop light (the oil pressure gauge would drop). Luckily, my uncle was able to replace the part that afternoon, and it was a relatively easy/inexpensive fix. We were fortunate he had the time and it wasn't a fortune (it was a sensor type issue, so there wasn't any real damage). By the time we pulled into the driveway, we were both exhausted. Seeing Felicity's box by the front door was the highlight of the stressful afternoon.

 

Before we showered and ate dinner, we had to make sure our plastic friend was safe. I couldn't believe how beautiful she looked with her new eyes and perfect lashes. Plus, she looked so darling and cozy in the hospital gown. I was glad it was a hot day out, and not a typical chilly October afternoon. I wouldn't have wanted Felicity in the cold by herself waiting for us. We had a few new outfits in the mail for her that I bought while she was away. For the first time, she got to spend the night dressed in my room. I made a spot for her on old Felicity's bed, beside Elizabeth. Of course, old Lissie was hoping she'd get lost in the mail, but they are friends now (there is still some jealousy that needs to be worked out). I'm so glad I made the decision to get this lady's eyes replaced. It would have been such a shame to leave this beauty with such an obvious defect. I am also glad that I listened to that voice inside me that said I had to buy her. Knowing how easily her limbs popped off could have meant she got thrown out. Colleen knows people who threw out their children's American Girl dolls when their limbs fell off, rather than having them fixed. That could have been this dolly's fate. She is such a gem, which is why I renamed her Emerald. It's easier for me to have special names for duplicates (whereas all Colleen's Molly dolls are just Molly). I never expected that my second Felicity doll would have such a backstory, and so early on into her being adopted. I know that I made the right decision with Emerald, and I'm so glad I turned away the other opportunities I had to get a second Felicity. This doll was meant for us...she needed someone with the love, patience, and skills to spiff her up (the doll hospital didn't even do the routine cleaning and hair brushing on her because I sent her in looking pristine). Although it might not have been the best financial decision getting her eyes replaced, Emerald was worth every penny. The fact she was away just made me bond with her even more, and she definitely lives up to all my dreams of owning another Felicity!

 

It's so ironic that after ALL those years of debating over getting a second Felicity or not, I finally pulled the trigger only to be GIVEN one a year later. The doll on the right was a gift of sorts. It was November 2022, on a Friday night, when Colleen hopped into my Jeep clutching a large reusable tote. I was curious...before she spoke my doll senses tingled. Of course she couldn't be carrying dolls I logically told myself. But the ear to ear grin spread across Colleen's face told otherwise. I was informed that a friend from the school she used to work at sent some dolls to Colleen's second job (with another friend). They had belonged to her daughters once upon a time, but were no longer loved or played with. Knowing that Colleen was a huge doll fanatic, her friend ferried the two American Girls to her. There would have been a third doll, if the Julie had made it. Sadly, only her arm remained (a search party did ensue for the doll herself). Colleen informed me that of the two ladies, one was a duplicate...but a dupe I'd be very happy to have. I was of course more excited by the appearance of Chrissa, Girl of the Year 2009. But had I not JUST gotten this 2005 era Felicity a year before, I think she would have more of my affections. At a cursory glance, I knew that this Lissie put Emerald to shame. She was clearly in superior condition, and would without a doubt clean up better. I was excited to have third version of one of my American Girl faves, even if I didn't "need" her. Just like with Emerald, this gal needed me more than I did her. She was far easier to spruce up, although the roller set I gave her proved to be persnickety. She was still wearing her original dress, socks, and had a solitary shoe. Plus, her "Meet" accessories choker was still intact (albeit, very stretched out). While in the Jeep at the gas station, the night Chrissa and this Lissie joined the family, Colleen and I both shared a telepathic thought. As she was inside the convenience store and I was in the Jeep, we were both contemplating naming her the same thing. It seemed only natural to dub her "Peridot," since I called her predecessor another gemstone. She truly is a spectacular gem, although Emerald is somehow a tad more attractive (it's the set of the eyes). I'm so grateful this treasure is part of my collection. Sure, it would have been financially more sensible to pass Emerald up the year before. But I had no way of knowing someone would GIVE me a Felicity doll. Even if I had the ability to tell the future, I still would have rescued Emerald...she needed me too!

There were several Disney films that intertwined themselves with my early childhood. For instance, my fascination with "Pocahontas" and "Aladdin" had so much to do with the fact that they came out in theaters when I was a kid. Being surrounded by the merchandise at stores only added to their allure. "Snow White" was a classic, a staple movie in our small collection that found its way into the VHS player several times a week. Strangely however, "The Little Mermaid" was not part of this category. In fact, the only experience I really had with this film was word of mouth, and the common knowledge that Ariel was a famous Disney princess. I was of course immensely curious--who was this vibrant red headed mermaid? What happened in the movie? I was always on the edge of my seat hoping to one day see the movie, but that didn't happen until I was probably eight or nine years old. My longing to know more was enhanced when "The Little Mermaid" dolls started popping up at the stores. Mattel bought the rights to the movie merchandise and started producing the dolls in 1997, many years after the film first hit theaters. Despite the delay, this happened to be the perfect time for little Shelly to meet Ariel, and it was this encounter that solidified "The Little Mermaid" as one of the most sentimental Disney collections I have as an adult.

 

It all began with just one doll. It was my sixth birthday in 1997--Mom and Dad took me out to Toys 'R' Us to pick out a gift. By that point, I was already mesmerized by Disney dolls. I took notice of their oversized heads, cartoon like faces, and their unique features like molded hats and interesting hair colors. So naturally Ariel's shocking red tresses caught my attention. There was an entire section devoted to "The Little Mermaid" merchandise at this particular Toys 'R' Us. I recall seeing "Basic" Ariel, Prince Eric, the Wedding Gift Set, some fashion packs, and of course Princess Mermaid Ariel. Admittedly it was overwhelming. Who do I choose? My passion for doll clothes was apparent even back then, so it seemed only right to pick Princess Mermaid Ariel. She was equipped with extra clothing items and some accessories. Plus her transforming gimmick took me in. Mom and Dad also let me select a fashion pack for her. I chose the nameless purple gown, which Ariel never actually wore in the movie. It really didn't matter that I had no idea who Ariel was and what the significance was of these items. She sparked my imagination...I didn't need a story line to have fun. Even with the movies I had watched, I was never one to make my Disney dolls recreate the films they starred in.

 

Ariel became a fast favorite. She was my only doll with shocking hair at the time. Back in the 90s, unnatural colored dolly hair wasn't as common place as it is these days. It was by far her best and worst feature. Ariel was also a tad inconvenient because of her super slender, modified Teen Skipper body mold. I didn't have any larger shoes for her flat feet, and most of my Barbie tops and pants were far too large for her skinny figure. But it didn't matter, I always made it work somehow. Ariel wore a variety of highly unflattering outfits in that time frame. Everything for the most part clashed with her bright red hair. In fact, I can't recall a single ensemble she actually looked good in. I was a bit disappointed as well by the Ariel outfits I got with my doll and in the fashion pack. The purple dress was made of an extremely low quality fabric that quite literally fell apart and frayed within a few weeks. Her mermaid tail wasn't practical for everyday use, and that pink ballgown she came with? That didn't even cover her bum! It was more like a one sided outfit, like the kind you see with snap on dolls. I always combined it with her mermaid tail, to give Ariel some much needed modesty. But none of these things really mattered, because nothing could taint my love for Ariel.

 

Both Colleen and I unknowingly agree that it was my Princess Mermaid Ariel doll and my African American Bathtime Fun Kelly that brought us together. Contrary to popular belief, we were not always super close siblings. In fact, when I was very young, Colleen hated my guts (mostly out of jealousy...she liked being an only child before I came along). She'd tell me I couldn't play with her, would find a new and creative way of putting me down, and we even got into physical fights when Mom and Dad weren't looking. One of my deepest connections to dolls has always been the fact that they were the start of a life long friendship between the two of us. It was the hours we spent playing with dolls that bonded us slowly, but surely. Ariel and Kelsey (aka Bathtime Fun Kelly) were the dolls we played with that unified our imaginations and kick started years of dolly play. Although Kelsey was my doll, Colleen took a shine to her. Wanting to win Colleen's affections, I always let her borrow Kelsey. Somehow we developed this concept that Kelsey and Ariel were homeless sisters. They lived in my bookshelf (that now funnily enough houses my "The Little Mermaid" dolls). We used a stack of my Bible books to create a shack within it. Ariel wore shabby clone/handmade clothes and a checkered red blanket in her hair as some sort of makeshift kerchief. Kelsey didn't have many wardrobe choices since we only had a handful of Kelly dolls at the time. But it helped that I had trashed her two factory ensembles by that point...it added to the grubby, homeless look we were looking for. Additionally, Ariel also looked tortured early on. Being so young, I didn't have the capacity to keep my dolls squeaky clean. I recall that she had dirt smudged on her face and crud caked into the sticky adhesive strip I never took off when I got her (that was intended to hold her bikini top up in the package). Her long red hair became super tangled--most of the time I remember small doll accessories becoming entangled in it, like little forks from my Fold 'n Fun House or certain pairs of shoes. Of course this led to long, arduous grooming sessions that left Ariel balding. Eventually I got fed up with her high maintenance do, so I chopped her ankle length mane to her bum. No matter how shabby and distorted our Kelsey and Ariel dolls were, it never seemed to get in the way of the fun we had.

 

One of my most special, memorable moments with dolls involved Ariel and Kelsey. Despite the fact that it happened more than two decades ago, I still recall it with perfect clarity. Back then, we had a small swimming pool in the yard. Dad was a terrible pool guy--he never could keep up with maintaining it. It also didn't help that we pretty much lived in the middle of the woods, and being surrounded by all those trees ensured that the pool always had a layer of pollen on the water. Dad knew he could exploit Colleen and my desire to ALWAYS go swimming. We didn't care in the slightest if the water was murky and brown (strange considering I literally wouldn't eat at other people's houses if they weren't clean enough). One afternoon, Dad enlisted us to get in the water and make a whirlpool, to help stir in the chemicals. So of course Colleen and I suited up, and we also prepared Ariel and Kelsey. By this point, Colleen had more Kelly clothes and Ariel borrowed Water Jewel Magic Jasmine's ensemble (where her mermaid top went, I still do not know). As we walked through the pool water, stirring the chemicals, we dragged the dolls along with us. It was in the middle of this operation when I lost my grip on Ariel. She got lost in the murky, foul pool water. Since it wasn't crystal clear (as it should have been) we had absolutely no idea where Ariel went. I was panicking, screaming "Ariel" as if she would come when I beckoned. A moment later, Colleen let out a very strange (almost Ariel-esque) sound--it went a bit like, "ah ah ah, ah ah ah." Ariel's long, red hair (that was not cut at this point) had touched Colleen's leg. She feared that some creature was living in the murky waters, but then common sense snapped her over the head. She reached in the water and pulled out my beloved Ariel! We almost lost her...although she would have turned up once the pool water was clean. But by that point, the chlorine and other chemicals probably would have done a ton of damage. Ariel was saved, and we brought the pair of dolls back into the house to be cleaned. Water Jewel Magic Jasmine was not all that happy though. Her little swimsuit wrap got lost in the water, and by the time Dad retrieved it from the pool filter months later, all the pigment in it was more or less gone.

 

As the years wore on, Ariel's fading looks definitely affected her roles in our story lines. Eventually Colleen grew out of her Kelly doll phase, so the sister duo was split up. But our fondness for the pair never faded, and to this day our "Ariel and Kelsey" doll game scenarios are still some of the most infamous. Ariel had a resurgence of popularity later on during the most significant doll game of all time..."The Refugee Game." She costarred alongside my beloved Tarzan Jane doll when I was ten years old. We had a crazy scenario that involved Jane and Ariel as hairstylists, working out of Jane's house. Jane had a little sister--Colleen's Kid Kore Katie named Holly. Ariel was no longer a serious character. Instead she was absolutely bonkers. But when Jane had to flee from her home to save Katie's life (during a Barbie orchestrated clone massacre), Ariel of course tagged along. I always will remember Ariel dressed up in the strange garments we chose to showcase her wacky personality. Her tragic appearance was also due to how poorly she had aged. But she always remained my one and only beloved Ariel.

 

It wasn't until I was twelve or thirteen that I got my hands on a second Ariel. Ironically it was another Princess Mermaid who I found only wearing her purple bikini top, at the local flea market. She still had all her luscious red hair intact, and her face paint/overall appearance was far superior to my childhood friends. Of course by this point, we really didn't utilize Ariel much in our doll games, but finding such a treasure unexpectedly did not go unappreciated. One of the very last doll purchases of my youth happened to be an Ariel doll as well. I found Forever Hair Ariel at Target one afternoon. I simply couldn't resist the allure of this red headed beauty with a fabulous hair gimmick. I really never "played" with this doll. But my fondest, strongest memory of her was the week we took over the living room during an arctic cold spell. Since we usually played dolls in the basement, Dad said we could set them up in the living room by the wood stove, since downstairs would be far too cold. I'll never forget sitting on the couch with my brand new Ariel, testing out all her crimpers and curlers. Even though I didn't get to know her as well as my first Princess Mermaid doll, Forever Hair Ariel makes me feel nostalgic too.

 

My teen years were the end of a dolly era. By the time I turned fifteen, I was more or less doll free. Eventually all our childhood companions were packed up in storage and were not touched again until I turned 18. It was about five years of not buying any dolls when I finally broke down. Ironically it was the lure of the magical Disney themed dolls that made me crack and buy more plastic friends. Early on, I was especially keen on finding "The Little Mermaid" stuff. Only having three childhood dolls, I was desperate to add more to my collection. I wanted any excuse to give this movie its very own shelf. I had plans of grandeur--a special hand painted backdrop and a bunch of ocean themed accessories. I want to say I probably had five or six Ariel dolls when I decided it was enough for them to have their own shelf. Sure enough, I carried out my plans to paint a picture for them. Dad and I also started developing handmade doll stands around this time. My favorites to design were by far for "The Little Mermaid" dolls. Even though I've redone many of these stands in recent years, I have never touched the plain orange one labeled simply as "The Little Mermaid." It was Dad's personal favorite, and even though I see all the flaws I made, I just never had the heart to change it. It's been traded around my dolls over the years--currently one of my cheap molded Ariel dolls is using it.

 

There was a thrill about finding Ariel dolls that couldn't be touched. I remember the day we bought two packed Barbie cases at a yard sale, purely because there were a few "The Little Mermaid" dolls inside. There was the Avon Ariel doll I rescued from a bin of McDonald's toys that same year for ten cents. She was entirely nude and accompanied only by a Perfume Princess Jasmine--I just didn't' have the heart to leave her behind. And of course I could never forget my Beautiful Hair Ariel. She is perhaps the most special of all my "The Little Mermaid" dolls. The Tyco line was well before my time. The dolls admittedly miss the mark in some ways that the Mattel dolls make up for. But that being said, I was mystified by these earliest dolls when I saw pictures of them online. Specifically, I was drawn to the ones with twinkling eyes. I still have a perfect recollection of the day I finally got my hands on a Tyco doll. Beautiful Hair Ariel was dressed in a Lady Lovelylocks dress, which I mistook as being her original ensemble. She was standing upright in a mug, alongside a few other Barbies/Disney dolls. Although I had little knowledge of the Tyco franchise, I took a gamble and bought Ariel for $2...only to realize she didn't have an outfit to wear! She was the most magnificent miniature sized creature I ever encountered--she was truly my pride and joy. I was heartbroken the day Colleen went to put her on a stand and her leg broke cleanly off. Dad knew how much I loved Ariel, and spent countless hours trying to figure out the best way to fix her. We walked up and down the aisles at Home Depot together bouncing ideas off one another for how we could tackle fixing her. Dad finally came up with screwing her leg back together, which I now know to be a terrible solution. But despite the fact that Ariel could very well fall apart again, it means the world to me that Dad put such effort forth to make her whole.

 

I really can't say which of my dolls are more sentimental. My childhood friends are what started my obsession with "The Little Mermaid," but I've made as many memories with my adult purchased companions. I was over the moon whenever I added more of the elusive Tyco gals to my collection--especially the incredibly homely first release Ariel with maroon colored hair and the awkward face mold. For whatever reason, they tug at my heart strings most of all. There was the day in 2012 when Colleen and I FINALLY found a Mattel Eric doll. Granted he was incredibly shabby and donning a Ken sweater, but it didn't matter. He was an instant favorite! How could I forget the highlight of my first trip to the Disney Store in ten years? I came for the Rapunzel dolls, but ended up splurging on Eric, Ursula, and Triton that day since they were all on sale for just $7 each. There was the day Dad blew us off to go to a swap meet with his friend Jimmy, although he originally told us Colleen and I could tag along. But we ended up being glad we had to stay home when Colleen won a bid on the gorgeous Summer Seas Ariel for just $9....my first from the line! Other special dolls include my strange Disney on Ice gal as well as the magnificent 2009 Bath Beauty doll, both of whom originated from the "Jewel Secrets Barbie lot" of 2015. I think my favorite part about my "The Little Mermaid" collection would be the diversity. Not owning many of these dolls growing up gave me little to no bias on which ones I love to collect. I adore them all for their unique qualities. The original Mattel gals give me a strong sense of nostalgia, but the Disney Store ones of recent years are probably the most attractive. The newer generation of Mattel dollies might sport more molded features, but showcase some of the most unique features in my collection (like that Bath Beauty doll I mentioned earlier or the Lagoon Gift Set that I was so excited went on sale in 2014). It all started with just one Princess Mermaid Ariel, who these days rocks a new head of re-rooted saran hair and dons a Disney Store fashion pack. But the story did not end with her, and with each passing year, another doll adds not only a new face to my display but also a story.

”So it has been about two years since my funny looking face showed up on your computer screen. Well… It’s been about a year and a eleven months if you’re reading this relatively close to when this was uploaded. Who knows, if you’re reading this in Decemeber than it’s probably a lot closer to the actual two year-versary of this story. I’ve come a long way since the writer wrote the application for this role. Oh, speaking of, the scene depicted is an homage to that application. If you got that without me telling you, you inhabit a very special place in my heart. If you didn’t than you probably want to look underneath your pillow before you go to bed… Just in case. Nah, I’m just messing with you…

 

Anyways, as I said before this journey has been one heck of a ride, but I just wanted to take this time to sit back and reminisce with you. Starting with the first part, or application. Role the ta- er copy and paste the text!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

I teleport into the vault. Hmm... it's just a metal wall. Oh wait. I teleported to the back wall. Stupid me. I turn around and see a small red gem on a pedestal. I pick it up and feel a rush of strength and confidence. Weird.

 

"That's it? I thought it'd be bigger?"

 

"Hehe, that's what she said."

 

"Wow, real mature.”

 

I pull out my phone from one of my pouches and dial the number this guy gave me.

 

"Yo, Tony. I got the gem. I'll bring it by the meeting place as soon as possible."

 

"Excellent."

 

"OoOoo, he sounds scary."

 

And that kids, is how I stole a precious gem from some agency hogging all of it's power...

 

"Hasta la vista!"

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”Did you know that the writer was actually teasing Thanos in that scene? Yeah, that burly voiced character on the other side of the phone was meant to be Thanos. The writer had me call him Tony just so it wouldn’t be too obvious… There’s also another reference in that app to another person that I won’t tell you about, just because. On to one of my favorite issues, issue number four!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”Aloha from Hawaii! Bob and I have been enjoying our time here. Well me more then Bob. Bob's been tied up most of the time. I've been using him as target practice with the many guns I stole from some mobster. Luckily for him, right now my aim isn't too good. Must have been some problem with the experiment or something.

 

However I was successful in three-sixty-no-scoping a surfer that got too close to my beach house. Oh ya, the beach house. I bought it with money that I uh... found next to the guns...”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”Now unfortunately that surfer I three-sixty-no-scoped wasn’t Silver Surfer. At that time the writer was still trying to get the rights to that and we were never able to actually make it the surfer made of silver. Next part is Deadpool number twelve the end of “The Staff” mini-series.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"What do you mean, 'all five'?"

 

"Chris, one; Michael, two; Levi, three; Sam, four; Kenny, five... duuuhhh."

 

"I said six you dipstick. You forgot McDaniels! You let one live."

 

"Ah, he'll probably lie low now knowing his friends kicked the bucket... or was it more took a ride in a blender... ah whatever..."

 

"He better. If he comes back on the radar, you'll be sorry."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”If you couldn’t tell by the subtle name drops, the guys I killed were caricatures of the MCSG staff. So if that were true, who was McDaniels? I’ll never tell… Oh that reminds me, he never did reappear again, did he? Whatever, Issue seventeen please!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Deadpool and Death, sittin' in a tree!

 

K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

 

First comes death.

 

Then comes eternally being with the one I love."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”Ah yes, the first time y’all saw Death… ‘Y’all’? Really writer, I’m from the south now? Part twenty-fiiiiive!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"I love the blood fountains!"

 

"I love it when they die!"

 

"I love Jeff Bridges."

 

"I love it when they die."

 

"I love the whole world."

 

"And all its sights and sounds."

 

"That song was very nice, guys."

 

"What song?"

 

"Sorry, forgot you couldn't hear them."

 

"Anyways, now that you had your fun killing this guys, are we done here?"

 

"Sure, you want to get some pizza?"

 

I turn around to where Cable was and he's gone. Now I know how the Commissioner feels.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”The first time we met another one of my loves. THE MINI GUN! Oh I love the power… Ahhhh… THE POWER! Ahem… P-part fourty-eight…”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Deadpool turns to Batroc and quickly blocks his attack. Batroc sends a knee towards Deadpool. He's successful and lands his attack on Deadpool's chest, knocking him backwards.

 

"Get him Deadpool!" A kid from the crowd yells.

 

"I might need a hand though!"

 

Deadpool unsheaths his sword and twirls it around. Batroc charges him and attempts to punch him. Deadpool quickly and skillfully swings his sword towards Batroc's arm, cleanly slicing off his hand.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”Deadpool versus Batroc! As I’ve stated before we only see this fight when the writer begins to run out of ideas. The cutting off the hand thing was inspired by Star Wars which at that time had its seventh movie coming out within a few months. Let’s skip ahead to part fifty-two, DC Comics favorite number.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Deadpool grabs Batroc and throws him towards two big buff men. Batroc stumbles into them, causing them to stand from their seats and look at Batroc.

 

"Hey, Jimmy, I think this guy wants to tussle!

 

" I think he does too, Billy!"

 

"Guys, he said he could take on both of you with one hand. Hehe!"

 

"Oh did he now?"

 

"No no, I dii.. Ahh!" Batroc is cut short as the man in red grabs him and lifts him over his shoulder.

 

"Let's take this outside!" The two men, with Batroc go outside.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”Ah yes, Billy and Jimmy. The two characters meant to resemble the main characters of Double Dragon. Double Dragon was one of the writer’s favorite games/animated movies growing up so he just had to make a reference to it. Oh and again we see Batroc because the writer couldn’t find any other ‘natural’ way to introduce Billy and Jimmy. The Animen story was meant to go on longer, but the writer got lazy and axed the whole second half of the story. On to Deadpool sixty-sixty, we’re on the right route!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"I hopped off the plane at L.A.X.

 

"With a dream and my cardigan

 

"Welcome to the land of fame excess."

 

"Woah!"

 

"Am I gonna fit in?

 

"Jumped in the cab,

 

"Here I am for the first time

 

"Look to my right and I see the Hollywood sign

 

"This is all so crazy

 

"Everybody seems so famous."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”That was Lady Deadpool and Bill from Aim singing along to one of the greatest hits ever. Later in that story we hear from my old pal Cable again. The next volume revolved around the Generation X. It also introduced Copycat, y’know the chick from the movie. Wonder what she’s up to now… To part eighty-two!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”Aaaaaaaand that’s how I got these voices inside my head. Well, I think. I’m pretty sure. Like, ninety percent sure… eighty-five… seventy…”

 

”Well if that’s not how we got here, how else would we have gotten here?”

 

“Maybe the big guy just got lonely one day.”

 

”Haha! That’s not what it was. I never get lonely. I’ve got you guys.”

 

”But.”

 

“That’s”

 

”Nevermind.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

”This was the origin story of why I had voices in my head. Madcap and Doctor Bong are currently no longer inside my head thanks to Thor being a salty-sailor and zapping me again in issue one-o-four.

 

Anyways, that’s it for me today. This issue was really long but it was worth it to go back through the back-issues and reminisce… The writer would have done this at issue 101 if he had remembered, but instead we got the beginning of the Thor-Pool legacy. It was worth it, but I’m glad we got to this now rather than never.

 

So I hope you enjoyed this issue, if you stuck through it all, and I hope you’ll be around to read more of my crazy adventures.

 

As always, I’m Deadpool. I’ll see you guys later!"

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Also, for that advert for Spidey: www.flickr.com/photos/911bug/albums/72157655437460793

The Gangster from Collectible Minifig Series 5 comes with a folding violin case and a Lego pistol that fits into it. I was very disappointed to find that the case is too small for either the M1A1 or the newer Tommy Gun, even with the drum detached from the latter. So I set about trying to figure out which BrickArms you could get into the case. The results were not always what I expected!

 

Here is an assortment of the smallest BrickArms firearms, along with my modded sawed-off SABR. Most of the weapons pictured here fit and will allow the case to close cleanly. A few don't and won't. If it's not pictured here, it blatantly doesn't fit in some way.

 

Can you guess which ones don't? The answers might surprise you.

 

Read through the comments or try it yourself to find out.

The color match for the new hair I picked was FLAWLESS!! My sister said when looking at the "before" and "after" photos of Princess and the Pea, that it could pass as a routine hair cleaning. This is Titian 8 saran, from Restoredoll.com. I always keep all the hair leftover from other projects. I noticed that the red I purchased for my sister's vintage Skipper and my Swirl Ponytail was nearly identical. So I planned to order that color. But sadly, it was out of production. So I went out on a limb and chose this. It looks more or less the same (maybe it is identical...I'm not sure). It does wonders for her skin color and green eyes. It is shorter than her original tresses, because I knew it would cost more money to do it any longer. Considering she has a hard head (common with most M.G.A. dolls), it wasn't too tricky to re-root her. I did soften her head in hot water for the first few plugs I did, but once my hands got used to it, I carried on as usual. I did have to resort to utilizing pliers for a few plugs in the back, because the needle would get a bit stuck. But otherwise she was a gem to re-root.

 

That being said, preparing her for the re-rooting process was a NIGHTMARE!!! Sure, her factory hair was dry rotting so badly I barely had to cut any off. But when I went to get her head off, that's when things went south. I had a lot of trouble getting her head off the neck joint, even when it was super soft from boiling water. You'll note her torso is somewhat discolored. I believe that the chemical reaction that caused this also made her ABS plastic brittle. A HUGE chunk broke cleanly off. Most of the time, a neck will crumble. I also heard something cracking when I first dunked her in the hot water...not a good sign. I finally got her head off the neck, taking the joint along with it. The ring that sits inside the neck got mangled from removal. I had to rebuild the bottom of her articulation with epoxy clay. Before that dried, I had to glue the broken neck back into place. The reason she had a ring on the bottom of her neck joint before, was to house a peg inside. The peg was fused to the inner neck...and somehow had not broken when the outside of the neck cracked off. So I pushed the peg through the soft clay, and glued the neck piece back into place with epoxy clay. Then I let it cure for 24 hours. The temperature in the house wasn't consistent (it was chilly). So things hadn't fully cured when I attempted to reassemble her the first time. The new portion of the joint separated, staying inside the neck. I had to glue it back together, and then I waited the entire weekend before reassembly. This worked out, and I was able to easily pop her head, with freshly rooted hair, back on. This doll was well worth the hassle. Plus, her odd neck issues gave me a chance to creatively problem solve. Perhaps this method will help me in the future!

 

Tutorial: How I Clean Dolly Bodies & Faces

www.flickr.com/photos/athousandsplendiddolls/17144774969/...

 

Tutorial: How I Re-root Dolls

www.flickr.com/photos/athousandsplendiddolls/31055109346/...

www.flickr.com/photos/athousandsplendiddolls/31055119876/...

www.flickr.com/photos/athousandsplendiddolls/31090885045/...

 

A Post Apocalyptic Adventure P.3:

Andrew approached slowly. The old man was indeed asleep with his eyes open...Upon looking closely there was no way that Andrew was going to be able to relieve the old man of the large bag strapped to his chest. Instead he turned his focus to the satchel...He was getting tense. Inch by inch he dug his hand deeper to try and grab a brick. Finally he had one in his hand and his arm was in the bag up to his elbow. Then he glance at the old man's eye. It was glaring right at him. Before Andrew could react the man had flung him over his shoulder, pulled out a machete from his sleeve and pinned Andrew to the ground with the blade at his throat. This was no feeble old man. He though he was going to die...Andrew opened his left eye only to see the old man still pinning him, but the blade was gone and the man was resting his arm on his other knee and was just plainly looking at Andrew as if he was amuse at some cheeky prank that a child would pull. He lay silent, not knowing what to do next. "You're Andrew aren't ya?"

Andrew didn't meed to answer. His face told all.

"And the name's Peter by the way."

Peter lifted his knee and let Andrew get to his feet. "That paper brick you gave me. I showed it to the bartender...and he said it was worth a lot of money. I wanted some more." ...

Peter began to chuckle. The chuckle then turned to hearty laughter...

"Kid, I think you though of the wrong kind of value. Did you even open it?"

Andrew paused. The parcel was still wrapped in paper and string. Confused Andrew handed it over...Peter undid the string and revealed a stack of papers about the size of two decks of playing cars stacked together and bound on one side.

"What is this?"

"That is called a book."

"Is it valuable?"

"Not in a monetary sense, no."

"But, he said you were the wealthiest man he knew. "

Peter chuckled again. "Maybe, but not in the sense you are thinking of, kid."

"Ya see there is two kinds of wealth, kid. There is the physical kind and then there's...

Peter paused. He looked over towards the road and his face became grim and focused...

"Help me clean up and hide that we were here."

"Why, what is wrong? Bandits?"

"Worse. Now help me or start running, 'cause you are not gonna wanna be here if they find us."...

He grabbed a mound of dirt and started trying to smother the small campfire while Peter grabbed a mound of dirt and started trying to smother the small campfire, while Peter grabbed a piece of dead shrubbery and tried brushing over and readily visible trace of recent activity. The fire went out, just as Andrew heard the sound of an approaching buggy. Before he could anything else, Peter grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him over a decrepit old station wagon, sitting about 20 feet away...Peter yanked open the front hood to check and see if the engine was gone, and fortunately it was. He hastily told Andrew to climb in and not make a sound until he came back...The buggy's headlights were now visible as Peter closed the hood. There were a few tiny rust holes in the car, so Andrew could see what was going on...Peter ran to the back of the car...It sounded like his climbed in the back and had laid down. About 30 seconds later he heard the buggy pull up and stop. He heard two men get out and start talking.

"Alright, look around. The tracks end about here, so he's gotta be nearby.

"Why does our leader want this guy?"

"Because, nitwit, he has been giving people those stupid books."

"Oh yeah. Man he has got a pair on him to be worshippin' any other than the road king."

"Yeah. The way I hears it is he thanks some guy, because he got nailed to some pieces of wood."

"Yeesh. Maybe the road kind will do the same thing. Ironic ain't it."

The two mean were walking closer the whole time. Through the rust hole, Andrew could see both of them carrying revolvers and were clad in brown leather jackets and what looked like old combat apparel. Suddenly one of them shouted out.

"Hey! I got someone over here!"

"Man, can't ya just let an old man sleep?"

"Shut up and get out here."

Andrew heard the two men yank the door off and reach in at Peter.

"Hey c'mon! What'd I do?"

"Ya sure this is him?"

"Unhuh, he fits the description to the letter."

"What description?..."

"Shut it. You're coming with us. Boss wants ya alive...

Andrew was paralyzed. What could he do? He barely knew Peter, but he wanted to ask him so many things. He saw through the rust Peter getting led off with a pistol to the back of his head. Suddenly he felt the rust riddled wall starting to give out. He tried to shift to a safer position, but it was to late. The fender of the car collapsed and out came the upper portion of Andrew. Before he could scramble away the seconde man was on him. He was dragged to his feet, and then had his arm twisted behind his back, as he was walked over to the buggy and stood next to Peter...

"Now hold on! The boy's not involved in this! Let him go!"

"Well, if he's not involved then what's this book sticking out of his pocket?"

Andrew felt the book being pulled out and had no idea why, but he wanted it back. But why where these guys so upset by it? He couldn't dwell on the thought. The man had placed the barrel of his revolver under his chin...

"Sorry kid," both men smirked. "Nuthin personal."

Andrew saw the hammer pull back. He was frozen. Time slowed down to almost nothing. He saw the man's finger pulled back. He shut his eyes. Ping!

Andrew's eyes snapped open. Time seemed to freeze for a split second. He saw Peter's right arm holding the other man's pistol straight up and his left arm stretched out towards Andrew with the machete in his hand. The blade had stuck between the gun's hammer and firing pin. Before anyone could react Ptere swing the machete causing the pistol to go airborn. Heverese the blade in his hand and brought the handle cracshing into the head of the man who intially held him at gunpoint. The man holding Adnrew flung himn to the ground and lunged at Petere. As if he;d predicted it, Peter let go of the wrist of the man he'd just knocked out and pushed the charging thug's head to the side, casuing him to cartwheel and land on his face. As the man fell his pistol landed cleanly in Peter's hand who turned to the thug and just glared. Peter walked over to the man with gun pointed at his face. Peter spoke. "Sorry for this, but I can't get caught just yet."

He whirled the gun in his hand and brought the handle down on the man's forehead.

Andrew was silent. Peter turned and asked if he was alright, to which Andrew only nodded. He watched as Peter went over to the buggy, grabbed some rope and bound both men together. He looked closely and saw both men were still alive and breathing. Peter then turned to him and said that they'd both be awake in about an hour. He also instructed Andrew to get in the buggy. Peter went over to the buggy's cargo latch after Andrew got in, and pulled out two bottles of water and put them in each man's lap. He then reached into his bag and pulled out two books and did the same with those. He then got into the buggy, shifted into drive, and pulled away. As they pulled out Andrew heard one man groaning and beginning to come to.

The two drove for about 20 minutes before either said anything.

"You're wondering why I didn't kill them."

Y...yeah. They were evil. They were gonna kill us.

"No, not evil. Just misguided. Anyway if I kill them, then how can I save them?"

"Save them?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. Just like I saved you from them, I still have a chance to save some many from something horrible."

Andrew thought for a while. Peter spoke after a while and fished through his bag, "By the way I couldn't help but notice you needed another book."

Andrew felt it fall in his lap.

"But why did you give those thugs books?"

"Because that has the information that can save them."

Andrew realized he'd never taken a good look at the book until now. The front cover only had one word, Bible. Peter spoke again. "Its kind of a long read but a good place to start is the book of

Luke. "

Andrew didn't know what to do, say or anything. He just began to read. After about 2 hours of driving he closed the book and looked ahead. Peter looked at him and asked what he thought.

"It's pretty heavy stuff. I have a few questions that you could probably answer, but these 2 first. You go around giving these to people, right?" Peter nodded. Andrew then asked, "You need some help?"

-Courtesy of one of my Christian youth group leaders short stories.

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Yup, the series is over. I have spent an hour or so typing the story from a PDF file to the Flickr desc box. I really like how the last scene came out. I spent a lot of time building this one and it was about 5 hours for the dune buggy, two for the station wagon,(which is based off of Andrew Somer's design), and about an hour for the landscaping. I also didnt like the first version of the scene, so I had to rebuild the whole thing. The setup was hard, and I had to take about 100 pics to get this one just right.

The first part here: www.flickr.com/photos/56829148@N05/6791144711/in/photostr...

The second part here: www.flickr.com/photos/56829148@N05/6797100141/in/photostream

Dune buggy here: www.flickr.com/photos/56829148@N05/6777821585/in/photostr...

 

Enjoy!

A robin feathering his nest

has very little time to rest

while gathering his bits of twine and twig'

I watched this female Osprey fly at a tree legs outstretched and she hit the branch and it snapped cleanly straight off.

Returning to her nest she dropped it on top of the male who was sitting on the eggs. Well that is one way to get him off. :-)

 

Squirrels are real tough to shoot. Not only do they scamper fast, in addition, they do not stay at any one position for long enough to get a focus. In my many attempts, this is the second time that I have managed to cleanly shoot a squirrel, the first one being in 2011.

  

Now that I think of it, seems like a long time...making a mental note to shoot more squirrels when I get a chance

I caught 91103 rushing through Finsbury Park earlier this year. The target at the time was my last class 313 EMU before they were all sent to scrap. Odd that they had been around for three to four decade, but their anonymity through the frequent greyed out numbers, plus high speed of trains on this line and relative lack of interest in trains meant the last one was confirmed as seen in their final year, Anyway, a side outcome, the only cleanly archived shot of 91103 I have.

 

Also in shot Arsenal's Emirates stadium.

Several years ago, a good friend, Tobers, kept talking about finding and taking ‘the other shot’, which for him, was about thinking differently and taking shots that were unusual and creative. I’ve always remembered this and found myself lurking in the woods during the Goodwood rally stages looking for an alternative way of photographing the rally cars at speed. I worked out a point in the middle of the forest where I could get a good panning position (over 90 degrees) where the cars would be visible and sharp, albeit not cleanly, through the trees. The technique worked well, and it was a case of finding the longest shutter speed possible to get the long horizontal streaks, but keeping the car sharp. I manually set the exposure at the area of greatest light , and pre set my focus to get the shot.

 

[The car featured is 8EMO, the famous 1962 Mini Cooper S which was was raced by Paddy Hopkirk in the 1963 RAC Rally]

Here is the Agamemnon with stickers applied and micro Starfury fighters flying formation.

 

This micro Starfury design was created by my buddy Dark_Syntax after he found out that I was building the Omega Class Destroyer for SHIPtember. Huge thanks to him for a really cool design that only uses 12 parts! They are scaled just a little too big for the ship, but I still think they look totally awesome!

 

My other buddy ZKaiser helped me out by printing the custom made stickers that I designed. He did a really nice job, especially on getting the perforations on the letter "A" to come out so cleanly. Huge thanks to him as well!

the Sheikh Lotfallah Mosque. It was started in 1602 by Shah Abbas I, replacing an older mosque, for his father-in-law, and it was thereafter used as the royal mosque until the Masjed-e-Imam was built. Although it lacks the size and grandeur of the latter, it surpasses it in workmanship and design.

Sheikh Lotfallah was born in Mess, which is currently in the Lebanon. Like his family he was a member of the Imami, or Shi'ite sect and was encouraged to take up residence in Iran under the Safavid rulers as part of the policy of promoting Shi'ism in Iran, along with other followers of this tradition from Bahrain. At first he lived in Mashed, where the second holiest of Shi'ite shrines is located, that of Imam Reza, but, partly due to the political instability of the area at the time and partly because of pressure from Shah Abbas, he took refuge first in Qazvin and then in Isfahan, where he seems to have acquired a son-in-law and patron at the same time. It was probably he who introduced the great mathematician, Sheikh Baha Al-Din Mohammed Ameli, otherwise known as Sheikh Bahai, who designed the famous sundial in the Royal Mosque, to Shah Abbas. Sheikh Lotfallah died in 1622.

The galleried colonnade on the Eastern side of the main square is cut cleanly and the main entrance, as can be seen here is set back. The effect is highlighted by the intricacy of the tilework panels on the exterior, and the offsetting of the dome, necessary for the correct orientation of the prayer chamber, also rouses the visitor's curiosity.

 

The mosque is entered through the eivan above the steps. The covered passageway down which you pass then subtly turns you through the 45 degrees or so necessary to bring you into line with Mecca, before entering the sanctuary.

Copy and Paste is so much fun ;)

 

Techno Girl [CUSTOM] [TEST PRINT RELEASE 1]

UPDATE: Test Print Release 1

 

• Here she is folks! Hot off the presses, first test prints are back!

 

• We are very happy with the final product and I'm sure our buyers will be as well.

 

• A few housekeeping notes:

 

• We were not 100% satisfied with some of the printing on all of the legs we ordered (specifically alignment of the side legs on some of the prints) -- those are going back to be reprinted

 

• We have enough cleanly printed figs to begin shipping out shortly

 

• Shipments will be made strictly on a "FIFO" first paid, first sent basis for all shipments -- no exceptions.

 

• We expect all re-printed parts to be back and all figs to be sent to all buyers of the initial run to be completed within the next 2 weeks.

 

• Lastly, thank you for your patronage and support!!

 

• We've got a very small run coming up on a simpler design, but I think you guys will like this one as well -- keep posted!

 

This was our spot for the Halloween parade at the Magic Kingdom. Right at the middle of Town Square, right on the curb, facing down Main Street U.S.A. I couldn't have planned it better myself. I took this before anything had started, after the spots were staked out and we were all just waiting. The color that bathed Main Street during Mickey's Not So Scary Halloween Party were absolutely awesome. I was really pleased with how cleanly this turned out. I thought it might be more annoying to process with all the varying colors. Please let me know what you all think as any suggestion is welcomed and appreciated. Enjoy!

Sunsets are always tough to filter well, here I just waited and shot cleanly without. The Humber Estuary, near Paull. 1/8 sec, f/11, ISO 100 with a polariser

I noticed a cleanly severed crow's head on a well trafficked sidewalk. No one else was noticing it. There was no sign of the rest of the bird. There was only a little blood on the feathers. A mystery.

Back to Crankworx for another Dual Slalom shot. Over the first water feature cleanly here.

 

The course was almost a mini speed and style course, which was great for spectators - but divisive for the riders. Almost needs to be a separate race. (the younger and older categories raced the more traditional course)

Just got a brand spankin' new iMac, and Aperture 3!

   

Had to re-post a photo, processed this time, sorry for the lack of originality

 

Cleanly rolled

www.matrobinsonphoto.co.uk

 

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www.twitter.com/matrobinson88

 

Of the many times I've shot the waterfalls, I hardly ever do it from anywhere else but right up in front of them - so it was interesting on this occasion to see what could be done from further back. I must have looked crazy to those stood with me, moving left 2 inches, back 1 inch, straighten it by 2 degrees, down half an inch... etc... but when shooting at such distances, with so many potential foreground distractions, these changes make big differences to their relative placement.

 

In the end I was happy that I cut out the vast majority of the rock clutter - only retaining this one focal point toward the front and cleanly cutting off the rocks at the top left (no straddling the side of the frame).

 

I felt that it needed this slightly more pronounced processing than usual to really bring the blacks down and bring out the colours in the peat stained water and fresh, late spring trees.

Interesting building at Hammarby Sjöstad. A bit tricky to photograph cleanly because of the trees left and right.

The EC135 is a multi-purpose light twin-engine helicopter produced by Eurocopter (later Airbus Helicopters) from 1996 onwards. It is used worldwide for transport, rescue and police missions, as well as for military roles.

In France, it is used by the Gendarmerie mainly for rescue and surveillance missions.

 

The model I've made here is the last MOC of my Gendarmerie series! It has all the features you'd expect: the rotor turns, there's room up front for two pilots and in the rear for a passenger with the doors open. The side doors open cleanly, as do the cab doors. The fuselage roof can be removed for access to the interior.

 

I hope you've enjoyed this little series on the gendarmerie forces, there may be other models of this type in the future, but on a sporadic basis.

 

Scale: 1/35

 

Instructions for this helicopter are available on my Rebrickable page: rebrickable.com/users/Spartane/mocs/

 

///

 

Eurocopter EC135 Gendarmerie

 

L'EC135 est un hélicoptère biturbine léger polyvalent produit par Eurocopter (puis Airbus Helicopters) à partir de 1996. Il est mondialement utilisé pour des missions de transport, de secours ou de police mais également pour des rôles militaires.

En France il sert notamment au sein de la Gendarmerie principalement pour des missions de sauvetage ou de surveillance.

 

le modèle que j'ai ici fait est le dernier MOC de ma série sur la gendarmerie ! Il présente toutes les fonctionnalités attendues, le rotor tourne, il y a de la place à l'avant pour deux pilotes et à l'arrière pour un passager portes ouvertes. Les portes latérales s'ouvrent proprement, celles de la cabine également. le toit du fuselage peut être retiré pour accéder à l'intérieur.

 

J'espère que cette petite série sur les forces de gendarmerie vous aura plu, il y aura peut être à l'avenir d'autre modèle de cette force mais de manière sporadique.

 

Echelle : 1/35

 

Les plans pour cet hélicoptère sont disponibles sur ma page rebrickable: rebrickable.com/users/Spartane/mocs/