View allAll Photos Tagged gratification
vo·lup·tu·ous adj \və-ˈləp(t)-shə-wəs, -shəs\
1 - a : full of delight or pleasure to the senses : conducive to or arising from sensuous or sensual gratification : luxurious
- b : suggesting sensual pleasure by fullness and beauty of form
2: given to or spent in enjoyment of luxury, pleasure, or sensual gratifications
— vo·lup·tu·ous·ly adverb
— vo·lup·tu·ous·ness noun
"...girls - if we can't see your ribs, you're ugly." (Steven Colbert)
polaroid SX-70 camera modified to shoot 600 series film. expired polaroid 600 instant film. scan: epson V750. exif tags: lenstagger.
spring 'roidweek 2021
polaroid SX-70 camera modified to shoot 600 series film. expired impossible project gen 1.0 B&W instant film. scan: epson V750. exif tags: filmtagger.
spring 'roidweek 2021
All rights reserved. Please do not use this or any of my images in anyway without my written permission.
Please also REFRAIN FROM POSTING YOUR OWN IMAGES within my Photostream. I consider this rude and unwelcome. Posting an image of your own within my stream will not encourage me to visit / award, but will infact have the complete opposite affect. Persistent offenders will simply be blocked.
An image from Ennerdale, Cumbria.
award count
www.cameralenscompare.com/photoAwardsCounterDetails.aspx?...
With film photography there is a natural delay between making an image and seeing the result. This process is for me even longer with colour films as I try to make efficient use of the chemicals by saving up a bunch and processing them all in one go. However sometimes things happen that cause the process to take even longer... and this is one of those times. These images are part of the series that I posted in September, beginning with "Returns and surprises" and were made on a hike through Glarus that I did with a mate back in May. It turns out that I had loaded one more roll of film into the camera, made some images and then forgot about the half-finished roll in the camera for about 6 months. That's some delayed gratification!
It was also fun to see my first unintended double exposure, which I find both cool and creepy simultaneously. I'm still not sure how I managed that one, but I was pretty exhausted by the time we got back down...
Committed to Kodak Ektar 100 using a Rolleicord va. Developed with a C-41 kit from Cinestill and digitised with a digital camera and macro lens. Positive conversion, colour balance and contrast done with Negative Lab Pro. Dust removal and further contrast adjustment in Photoshop.
donner summit, named after the infamous 1848 donner party cannibalism disaster.
vintage polaroid SX-70 camera electronically modified to shoot 600 series film, impossible project B&W generation 2.0 beta test film. scan: epson V750. exif tags: filmtagger.
Long exposure for me, is one of the most creative and aesthetically pleasing of the techniques that can be used to produce images photographically. Now depending on the subject and desired effect, I tend to like exposures of anything between one second and twelve minutes, but as I said and would wish to stress, the choice of timing really depends on what I’ve visualised for the end result.
Now I’m really not too keen on classifying myself as ‘just’ a long exposure landscape photographer, as it does seem a little narrow a classification. But when looking back at my work it becomes evident that movement and the ability to exploit it photographically, is of fundamental importance to why I love photography. But why?
First, I think it has something to do with the fact that I’m a trained animator and the use of movement is a key element in the production off animation, (well the illusion of movement is, as animation is only a series of still images that trick the brain into seeing movement). This suggestive, (as opposed genuine movement that animation and live action has), is rather powerful in photography as it enables the viewer to reflect deeper into what’s before and what is to be after the moment in time on display. For me this slower more reflective nature of photography (not unlike painting) has a special quality to initiate depth of engagement in our faster quick fire instant gratification culture. Please don’t misconceive me here, I still love animation, but photography offers me something uniquely different to add to my creative experiences.
I also love using long exposure in dynamic environments, as it eliminates detail and simplifies the moving elements. This is a powerful compositional tool, as it enables the photographer to condense the detailed information to key elements providing less resistance in the guiding of the viewer eye around the image. Furthermore if you junkstapose hard subjects with soft ones, you are able to highlight detail very effectively and create a stronger viewer engagement.
I’ve always been fascinated by the way long exposures distort the light falling on the film or sensor and merges the tones and colours together. This process Introduces element of uncertainty and creates something that cannot be seen with our own eye, which subsequently from a viewing perspective injects elements of the surreal. Ironically this surreal, but photographically ‘real’ image is a paradox when it comes to reality, as it seems to fall in to both opposing camps of the fine art and realists images makers. Personally I’ve never been an advocate of looking for the reality in something and I’m a big fan of producing images that distort my own perceptions, and offer an alternative views. I’m a strong believer that we each have subtly different realities anyway and trying to force our own views on others is futile. It has always irritated me when people have asked of an images ‘reality’ credentials, as I feel there has been an absence of thought to what ‘reality’ actually is. Anyway let me try to get back on topic. Part of why I love experimenting with different length exposures, and different degrees of this mixture of tone and colour, is that it challenges my own way of seeing the world, which develops subtle evolutionary changes to my perceptions. For me life gets too boring if we only see one way and I’m not sure if it’s just me, but I have a strong desire to keep changing the way I look so that I can see with more depth and texture.
This shot in particular is an experiment that I made to try and find alternative views on the amazing conditions I was presented with at Sandsend a few months ago. I used a one minute exposure to try and distort the moving elements and this is the result. I particularly like the way this image draws out my conceptual nature, namely that there are no solid elements present, (well apart from the horizon and considering that is water, even that’s debatable) and that everything is changing within the shot. For me this speaks of the ever changing fragile world we live in and ironically I find security in continual metamorphosis of the differing natural elements
Note: This is the other side of the rainbow.
I was in front of them and took some beautiful photos. Being aware of presence, they lost their concentration and had difficulties to continue. I changed my place and they could concentrate again.
"Friendship is vital in a marital relationship. Sex alone will not bring a couple closer together; in fact it will all too soon throw them apart if the higher instinct of true love and friendship is not predominant. When sex is made the most important part of a marriage, the couple lose interest in one another when the initial blush of sensual gratification pales. Those who do not discriminate between true love and sense attraction are disillusioned again and again." - {Paramahansa Yogananda}
vintage polaroid SX-70 camera electronically modified to shoot 600 series film, polaroid originals B&W film. scan: epson V750. exif tags: lenstagger.
Hard work is painful when life is devoid of purpose. But when you live for something greater than yourself and the gratification of your own ego, then hard work becomes a labor of love.
-Steve Pavlina
a shot from our yangshuo/guilin trip last may for our office trip.....decided to have a bit of rest from my usual landscape/architecture uploads....
this was my second time to visit yangshuo and this place still amazes me....brings back good old memories...=)...yangshuo is one of my most fave places to visit in china....its always touristy but when you get there and see the river and the mountains you will know why it is one of the top ten places to go when you visit china.....if i have the chance to go back here again and again...i would definitely go...
abandoned roadside snack shack in yermo, california. polaroid SX-70 camera modified to shoot 600 series film. expired polaroid 600 color film. scan: epson V750. exif tags: lenstagger.
The Reveal: Film’s Most Anticipated Moment
For film photographers, few moments compare to the magic of pulling a freshly developed roll from the rinse and holding the negatives up to the light for the first time. It’s a moment filled with anticipation—will the shots turn out as you envisioned? There’s an unmatched sense of accomplishment in seeing those delicate frames reveal themselves, each one a tangible memory captured on film.
Unlike the instant gratification of digital photography, this process demands patience. But that wait makes the reward even sweeter. As you carefully scan through the strip, frame by frame, memories you’d forgotten begin to resurface. A fleeting expression, a play of light, or a quiet scene you barely noticed at the time suddenly comes rushing back. Each negative holds a story, and in this moment of discovery, you’re reminded of why you chose film in the first place.
Website: www.sollows.ca
Contact and links: www.linktr.ee/jsollows
“When did humans first create music?”
Due to an annoying blister on Rishabh’s toe, we decided against climbing the high dunes, and instead, waded along the enchanting Medano creek to keep thing easy for him. Medano is a seasonal waterbody that flows when snow melts in higher altitudes… four to five weeks every year. Today, the creek was flowing gently on the wet sand, barely above our ankles at its deepest grooves. Gifts offered by this meek river were being enjoyed by one and all – children and children-at-heart were splashing in it and others had found a wet seat on one of its many sand bars that were a foot or so high. Rishabh and I had settled down on one such sandbar. The creek was washing over our bare feet, which were visually fluttering in it. The wind was mild, the sunshine was bright, and the surrounding scenery (above) was impressive; it was a recipe for a peaceful few minutes. But peaceful it wasn’t.
A group of young adults, about 300-400 yards from us, were playing popular songs loudly on their hefty loudspeakers, which they had brought over for their picnic along with their devil-may-care-attitude. This was a national park – the Great Sand Dunes national park– and etiquette of such temples dictate enjoying the place without marring it for others. But these are young people who know everything due to google, and are used to gratification instantly, as if hedonic pleasure is some ‘a-minute-to-cook’ noodle. I sincerely feel sad for this generation. They dig a lot, but nothing much sinks in. They want to smell good, but don’t know how to smell wildflowers. They smile wide for their selfies, but to other human beings, they offer 'smile' emojis.
Rishabh was visibly upset with the wild bunch. To pacify, I reminded him that they were playing one of his favorite songs. “Not here!”, he said firmly. Equally agitated as him, I wondered if this old place had any medication for this new age agony. “Close your eyes and try listening to everything else”, I told Rishabh and did so myself. Slowly waves of man-made music faded from my ears. Cleansed somewhat, I heard the faint chortle of the creek. The giggle was not uniform, but it was rhythmic – the creek knew how to hold time in a rhyme, an art it must have learned from melting spirits of the mountains. Every now and then, a somewhat more vigorous wave would rush through a little sand-canyon and create eddies that percussed like a drum. Braiding with aquatic acoustics, large chunks of sand would now and then dislodge from the bar, splash on the flowing water, and create a roaring crescendo like an orchestra gong. Clearly, the creek was on a song, but only for humble ears that knew how to drop pretenses and court purity.
Somewhen then, breaking the creek’s hypnotism, Rishabh asked, “When did humans first create music?” My son often asks such questions– somewhat silly on the surface, but frustratingly deep to effectively respond. But this time, I had an answer. I said, “Perhaps, a long time ago, when a father and son sat patiently by a creek and heard it warble.”
PS: Zoom into those dunes for human figures, if you care about scale.
Burlington Arcade, London
Burlington Arcade is a covered shopping arcade in London, England, United Kingdom. It is one of the precursors of the mid-19th-century European shopping gallery and the modern shopping mall. It is near the similar Piccadilly Arcade.
The arcade was built in 1818 to the order of George Cavendish, 1st Earl of Burlington, younger brother of William Cavendish, 5th Duke of Devonshire. The Arcade was built "for the sale of jewellery and fancy articles of fashionable demand, for the gratification of the public".[1] However, it was also said to have been built so that the Lord's wife could shop safely amongst other genteel ladies and gentleman away from the busy, dirty, and crime ridden open streets of London.
The arcade is patrolled by beadles in traditional uniforms including top hats and frockcoats. The original beadles were all former members of Lord George Cavendish's regiment, the 10th Royal Hussars. The arcade maintains Regency decorum by banning singing, humming, hurrying, and "behaving boisterously". from Wikipedia
polaroid SX-70 camera electronically modified to shoot 600 series film, polaroid 600. scan: epson V750. exif tags: lenstagger.
Scanned cyanotype on handmade A3 cotton paper from India.
H2O, acetic acid, turmeric and glycerol + of course the mother of instant gratification: H2O2.
Can you trust your mirror image? Chiral toxicology at your worst...
Bringing cyanotype imaging into next level. How many layers are there? Do you like it or not? And is there a hint of Mayan/Aztek patterns in this one?
Best/Johan :-)
'You never know what's going to happen'
We've heard that 'rallying call' many times whilst looking out on an empty field or reed bed.,
and whilst there's no disputing the phrase is true., most of the time nothing actually happens
But just sometimes., like when this fox appeared like magic from nowhere., all those hours staring at nothing starts to make some sense
To those of you that want MacDonald's style 'fast-gratification' this isn't the hobby for you., you want animals - go to the zoo!
To those of you that put the endless miles and hours 'in'., we salute you all., we know what it takes., and your pictures are wonderful testimony to the time., patience and effort required to get them
Thanks for looking, comments and faves. Much appreciated
i do not condone or wish to promote the actions of these evil bastards
A serial killer is typically defined as an individual who has murdered three or more people over a period of more than a month, with down time (a "cooling off period") between the murders, and whose motivation for killing is largely based on psychological gratification. Other sources define the term as "a series of two or more murders, committed as separate events, usually, but not always, by one offender acting alone" or, including the vital characteristics, a minimum of at least two murders. Often, a sexual element is involved with the killings, but the FBI states that motives for serial murder include "anger, thrill, financial gain, and attention seeking." The murders may have been attempted or completed in a similar fashion and the victims may have had something in common; for example, occupation, race, appearance, sex, or age group.
Serial killers are not the same as mass murderers, who commit multiple murders at one time; nor are they spree killers, who commit murders in two or more locations with virtually no break in between.
1969
Sutcliffe committed his first assault on an older prostitute whom he had met whilst searching for the woman who had previously tricked him out of money. He had left his friend's mini-van and walked up Pauls Road, Bradford, until he was out of sight. When he came back, he was out of breath, as if he had been running. He told long-term friend of his, Trevor Birdsall, who was the driver of the vehicle that he was in, to drive off quickly. Sutcliffe said that he had followed a prostitute into a garage and hit her over the head with a stone in a sock. According to his statement, Sutcliffe stated, "I got out of the car, went across the road and hit her. The force of the impact tore the toe off the sock and whatever was in it came out. I went back to the car and got in it".
When the police visited his home the next day, they informed him that the woman, who bore no resemblance to the prostitute who had tricked him out of £10, had noted down Birdsall's mini-van vehicle registration plate. Sutcliffe admitted that he had hit her over the head, but claimed that it was only with his hand. The police told him he was "very lucky" as the prostitute didn't want anything more to do with the incident - she was a known prostitute and her common-law husband was serving a sentence for an assault.
1975
Sutcliffe committed his second assault on the night of 5 July 1975 in Keighley. He attacked Anna Rogulskyj, who was walking alone, striking her unconscious with a ball-peen hammer and slashing her stomach with a knife. Disturbed by a neighbour, he left without killing her. Rogulskyj survived after extensive medical intervention but was emotionally traumatised by this attack.
Sutcliffe attacked Olive Smelt in Halifax in August. Employing the same modus operandi he struck her from behind and used a knife to slash her, though this time above her buttocks. Again he was interrupted, and left his victim badly injured but still alive. Like Rogulskyj, Smelt suffered emotional scars from the attack, including clinical depression. On 27 August, Sutcliffe attacked 14 year old Tracy Browne in Silsden. He struck her from behind and hit her on the head five times while she was walking in a country lane. Sutcliffe was not convicted of this attack, but confessed to it in 1992.
The first victim to lose her life was Wilma McCann, on 30 October. McCann was a mother of four from the Chapeltown district of Leeds. Sutcliffe struck her twice with a hammer before stabbing her 15 times in the neck, chest and abdomen. Traces of semen were found on the back of her underwear. An extensive inquiry, involving 150 police officers and 11,000 interviews, failed to uncover the culprit. One of McCann's daughters committed suicide in December 2007, reportedly after suffering years of torment over her mother's death.
1976
Sutcliffe committed his next murder in January 1976, when he stabbed Emily Jackson 51 times in Leeds. In dire financial straits, Jackson had been using the family van to exchange sexual favours for money, a fact which shocked family and neighbours when it was revealed after the murder. Sutcliffe hit her on the head with a hammer and then used a sharpened screwdriver to stab her in the neck, chest, and abdomen. Sutcliffe also stamped on her thigh, leaving behind an impression of his boot.
Sutcliffe attacked Marcella Claxton in Roundhay Park, Leeds, on 9 May. Walking home from a party, she was given a lift by Sutcliffe. When she later got out of the car to urinate, Sutcliffe hit her from behind with a hammer. She was left alive and was able to testify against Sutcliffe at his trial.
1977
On 5 February 1977 he attacked Irene Richardson, a Chapeltown prostitute, in Roundhay Park. Richardson was bludgeoned to death with a hammer. Once she was dead, he mutilated her corpse with a knife. Tyre tracks left near the murder scene resulted in a long list of possible suspect vehicles.
Two months later, on 23 April 1977, Sutcliffe killed Bradford prostitute Patricia "Tina" Atkinson in her flat, where police found a bootprint on the bedclothes. Two months later Sutcliffe committed another murder in Chapeltown, claiming his youngest victim, 16-year-old Jayne MacDonald, on 26 June. She was not a prostitute. In the public perception, her death showed that every woman was a potential victim. Sutcliffe seriously assaulted Maureen Long in Bradford in July. He was interrupted and left her for dead. A witness misidentified the make of his car. More than 300 police officers working the case amassed 12,500 statements and checked thousands of cars, without success. On 1 October 1977 Sutcliffe murdered Manchester prostitute Jean Jordan. Her body was found ten days later and had obviously been moved several days after death. In a later confession, Sutcliffe stated he had realised that the new £5 note he had given her was traceable. After hosting a family party at his new home, he returned to the wasteland behind Manchester's Southern Cemetery, where he left the body, to retrieve the note. Unable to do so he mutilated Jordan's corpse and moved the location of the body.
The following morning, Jordan was discovered by actor Bruce Jones, who at that time was a local dairy worker. He had an allotment on the land adjoining the site where the body was found and was searching for disused house bricks when he made the discovery. The £5 note, hidden inside a secret compartment in Jordan's handbag, offered a valuable piece of evidence. The note was new, allowing it to be traced to branches of the Midland Bank in Shipley and Bingley. Police analysis of bank operations allowed them to narrow their field of inquiry to 8,000 local employees who could have received it in their wagepacket. Over three months the police interviewed 5,000 men, including Sutcliffe, whom they did not connect to the crime.
On 14 December Sutcliffe attacked another Leeds prostitute, Marilyn Moore. Moore survived and provided police with a description of her attacker. Tyre tracks found at the scene matched those from an earlier attack.
1978
The police discontinued the search for the person who received the £5 note in January 1978. Although Sutcliffe was interviewed about the £5 note, he was not investigated further (he would ultimately be contacted, and disregarded, by the Ripper Squad on several further occasions). That month, Sutcliffe killed again. His victim was 21-year-old Bradford prostitute, Yvonne Pearson. Sutcliffe hid her body under a discarded sofa and it was not found until March. He killed 18-year-old Huddersfield prostitute Helen Rytka, on the night of 31 January. Her body was found three days later. On 16 May Sutcliffe killed again after a three-month hiatus. The victim was Vera Millward whom he killed during an attack in the car park of Manchester Royal Infirmary.
1979
Almost a year passed before Sutcliffe attacked again. During this period, in November 1978, his mother Kathleen died, aged 59.
On 4 April 1979 Sutcliffe killed a 19-year-old bank clerk, Josephine Whitaker. He attacked her on Saville Park Moor, Halifax, as she was walking home. Despite new forensic evidence, police efforts were diverted for several months following receipt of a taped message purporting to be from the murderer. The message taunted Assistant Chief Constable George Oldfield who was leading the investigation. The tape contained a man's voice saying "I'm Jack. I see you're having no luck catching me. I have the greatest respect for you, George, but Lord, you're no nearer catching me now than four years ago when I started."
Based on the recorded message police began searching for a man with a Wearside accent, which was narrowed down to the Castletown area of Sunderland. The message was much later revealed to be a hoax. The hoaxer, dubbed "Wearside Jack", sent two letters to police in 1978, that boasted of his crimes. The letters, signed "Jack The Ripper", claimed responsibility for the murder of 26-year-old Joan Harrison in Preston in November 1975. On 20 October 2005, John Samuel Humble, an unemployed alcoholic and long-time resident of the Ford Estate area of Sunderland (a mile from Castletown), was charged with attempting to pervert the course of justice for sending the hoax letters and tape. He was remanded in custody. On 21 March 2006 Humble was convicted and sentenced to eight years in prison.
On 1 September Sutcliffe murdered 20-year-old Barbara Leach. Leach was a Bradford University student killed in Ash Grove, close to the university and her lodgings. It was his sixteenth attack. The murder of a woman who was not a prostitute again alarmed the public and prompted an expensive publicity campaign, which emphasised the Wearside connection. Despite the false Wearside lead, Sutcliffe was interviewed on at least two further occasions in 1979. Despite matching several forensic clues and being on the list of 300 names in connection with the £5 note, he was not strongly suspected. In total, Sutcliffe was interviewed by the police on nine occasions.
1980
In April 1980 Sutcliffe was arrested for drunk driving. While awaiting trial on this charge, he killed two more women. He murdered 47-year-old Marguerite Walls on the night of 20 August, and 20-year-old Jacqueline Hill, a student at the University of Leeds, on the night of 17 November. He also attacked two other women who survived. They were Dr. Uphadya Bandara, attacked in Leeds on 24 September, and 16-year-old Theresa Sykes, attacked in Huddersfield on the night of 5 November. On 25 November, Trevor Birdsall, an associate of Sutcliffe reported him to the police as a suspect. This information vanished into the enormous amount of paperwork already created.
The subject came up over dinner...
Normally, the penis of a man is not perfectly straight. Most penis are slight bent and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. There were only rare instances when a man has a penis that has no bents. The curve of the penis can be caused by a lot of factors. The first one, which is genetics, is the most common of them all. Since the genes dictate a man's physical existence, it is no secret that the shape of a man's penis will follow that of his ancestors. Same goes to the other aspects like the size and the color.
More often than not, men's sexuality is defined by their penis. It serves as a tool that satisfies sexual pleasures and desires. Aside from the size, the shape of the penis is also important for men. By far, most men prefer a straight penis over a bent penis. A man does anything just to make sure that the shape of his penis will be the shape of his preference. Above all, the shape of the penis can determine the success of a man while having sex.
That being said...
The discussion went on to Vaginoplasty and Labiaplasty.
It is said that over 75 million women in the USA and UK alone require vaginal rejuvenation. Female sexual gratification is dependant on the amount of friction generated within the vagina.
The Lpill is a blend of natural herbal ingredients meant to reverse the effects of vaginal relaxation without using kegels...
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Another longish RP I thought I'd share, just for the watchability of the scene I felt!
It starts off with Kamy teasing Serafina (Fin) that *she* got a key /and/ a book from the Ranger cabin.. and Fin has neither of these things. Fin quickly turns the tables on her, and her aggression and jealousy amuses Kamy so much that she does the same... with Fin's boyfriend.
The first few posts are a touch edited to protect the not-so-innocent (other rp'ers ;) ).
Thanks to Phoebe for patiently teaching me how to split-screen!
++++++++
Kamy was beyond the flirtations and deviant looks at this point, at least alone when the girls could just be girls. She leaned in then and kissed her full on the lips, far more sensual then anyone would expect from the outrider, letting it pull but linger before popping happily back. "I got a fucking key to the cabin..." she snickered with the very intention of making her jealous and started off then, wiggling her hips as she silently began them on a walk through the park.
Fin kissed back, but while it started off with a sensual little lapping growl, it quickly *did* turn jealous, and she sought to *bite* her lip. Hard. Before she slipped away. Her eyes glittered and quite literally turned greener. ".. Oh yeah? How nice for you," she shoots back and falls into step to follow her through the trees, pushing limbs gently out of the way.
Kamy sunk an arm into hers so they might walk like school girls, licking where her lip had bruised from that chomp and pulling her to the bridge. Most tended to use this one sparingly, a careful step here and there. Kamy walks upon it full force, naturally taking to its bouncing sways and creaking protests without hesitation.
Fin delights in their raping of the bridge. So what if they pingponged off and flew into the river? She was filled with this dangerous rush of adrenaline and unconcern, driving her steps onto the planks all punk rock style. Hipbumps and rowdy hollers. ".. Yeah.. well.. ain't that somethin'. I don't know, man," her tune changing some. ".. I just wish they were all -around- more. I got shit to ask! You know? Th'fuck am I supposed to do?" She hopped to the other side and stretched her arms high above her head, then cracking neck to either shoulder. ".. Build a doghouse next to the cabin and be all, 'Bark Bark lemme in'?"
Kamy laughed when Fina bounced upon the bridge recklessly. She had just been walking like normal but it didn't mean she didn't appreciate the recklessness of it. She laughed when her foot nearly lost it but the book she held was clutched tight, quick to run free from its swaying surface. Would probably collapse on the next person who crossed it carefully. She reached out and took Fina by the belt, dragging her back to hook a knee between her thighs. "talk to one of the others then," she ran a nose along her jaw line, oblivious to anyone else's approach.
Serafina spun back towards Kamy by her own momentum and the Dreg's own tug of Fin's belt. Bare, dark skin *smacked* against her suspenders and covered-for-damn-good-reason skin. While that nose ran along her jawline, it drew out a loose growl, like something had just broken and was crashing down over their heads. ".. Fuck /talking/," she hissed, and yes, her legs parted, but they did so to square off, and grab Kamy by the shoulders to shove her down. Hard. Harder than she'd pulled on the woman before. Her hand would try to pin her throat, her hips, Kamy's pelvis, while her free would skate over her clothing, into bindings and straps, sensually fast. ".. I'm /taking/ ..that key."
Dylon sent his boots into the dirt to stop on the sudden appearance of the girls, it was still a chocolatey-clustery-headfuck for the guy to process. Shit, every time he thought he got a handle on the situation there it was, the diagram. The scissoring of fingers that explained how the two girls ended up, that enough was a struggle, what did you do? What the fuck were you meant to do?! Jack off? Raise that questioning brow to your girlfriend? The answer like all things in life were sometimes obvious, maybe it was Kamy's nose into Fin's face. That image alone made him think of their bed, they were going to need a bigger boat. Chin up and spark up. When he was about to raise his head to speak he stopped, why ruin the moment with a hello. Instead, the man just stood there enjoying the remains of that cigarette held between his fingers.
Kamy squealed when she went down, a very unusual noise for a Dreg to make but she was unraveling fast in the private company of Finn, her dark predatory facade that kept her fat and alive in the outpost abandoned for something far more girly. She couldn't stop laughing when Fina pinned her, hips lifting the girl off the ground with a thrust of her core, enjoying the site of those freckled swells bouncing. Kamy sighed when the girl's hands easily parted the handmade top from her chest, knuckled persed beneath leather and feathers. She nodded at the assessment. "yes good idea...I am tired of sharing you with him anyway" she stated rather boldly, unusual since she'd always liked Dylon from afar. She unbuckled Fina's pants and shimmied them down. "MY fucking key bitch...ug why don't you ever wear skirts..."
Fin squeezed her thighs so her pants could only unzip *enough*, the belt having gone unbuckled by Kamy's swift fingers. ".. I do," she snarked. "just for the men.. for you.. I make it hard." But green-eyedness wins over her again, the jealousy of Kamy having that key, and a book. Since talking hadn't gotten her far, she'd scythe through with force. ".. MINE!" she hurls at her, real anger dominating her voice, or perhaps, she's simply trying to /dominate/ her. ".. Hi Dylon.. " she singsongs between her next *firmly* growled statement. ".. MY. Fucking. ...Key." She'd try to grab Kamy's wrists, probably a battle of sorts while they scurried at her own pants. Her aim to drive them over the woman's head so she could use her free to keep searching.
Dylon sent those arms of his to fold across that chest of his, as that weight of his frame shifted from one foot to another. Just like that, something got that back of his up, a instinctual reaction to double taking on hearing Kamy's words, were they about him? and what was this fucking key?!. That figure of his turned side on then, yanking the cigarette from his lips harshly as his eyes bored down upon the air while that smoke wielding hand rested up against his chest. Maybe it was the twitch of his left cheek and the billow of smoke that was the sign of a vented thought. When that hello came from Fin that head jerked in a greeting nod before stilling.
The book was off to the side, Kamy's hand had carefully set it aside even in the collapse, perhaps indicating she had more control then she'd let on. It was her error to think Fina was only playing however, the surprise obvious when the girl snatched her wrists and pinned them to the earth. She'd lost her chance to truly resist, arms flexing with the push but only coming an inch off the grass. She snarled when the girl started searching her for real, pleased at least that Fina would have a hard time finding it considering the position. Hips popped her up again. "FINA...she gave it to me!" she looked over in surprise at Dylon, laughing despite herself. "Hey clit kicker! Mind holding her down for me?" spoken as if she hadn't even made mention of him before.
Fin let out a victorious "... HA!" when she pinned her wrists overhead. Serious, she was, was Kamy's own fault for digging at her jealousy. ".. I -know- she gave them to you that's th'fucking point," she growled, a touch smoother. As her hand roamed the woman, sliding over hip, scooping a buttock (and here, she'd grin at her, tongue held at her tooth) up, exploring behind her thigh, then her arm bands, she offered a similar suggestion. ".. Mmhm! Yes, Dylon. Why don't you help hold her down for me. And stop laughing, you're gonna make this harder," she grumbled.
It wasn't often Dylon got to break up two girl's who were getting hot and heavy over a game of hide and go fucking seek. Though as he stood there towering over both of them that look of his went to the bridge, blinking at it swayed in the light breeze. "What are you two up to?" he said with a rather strained and exhausted tone. A grimace of pain fell upon his face for a moment, sending a hand against that jacket to palm lightly the spot under his ribs. "And then part of me is just too damned scared to ask.." A breath of air was pulled in through nostrils, causing them to flare before looking back down to the pair.
Kamy was sulking HARD that her key was stolen, tempted to bash Fina upside the head and take it back which was likely the sensible thing to do. But that would just be petty, no way she was giving her the gratification of fighting for it back. Of course she'd forgotten all about taking her wrist phone. She looked around for something to take while the girl was doubled over. She looked up at Dylon as he held her, watching him with a devious sneer. She broke from his grasp with a yank, leaping up and jumping on him with intensive vertical. His weight might hold her but she'd hit him hard, knees grasping his ribs with a crushing squeeze, her lips just smashed upon his. She'd grip the back of his head, sure he'd resist at first, but an insistant roll of her head and a thrust of her tongue within his stubbled lips was downright lewdly performed. Eyes hung to the corners of her gaze,watching for Fina's reaction.
Fin gave him a wriggling eyebrow, like wasn't she just the cockiest bully, mowing down the smartass nerd as she left school with her lunch money and favorite paperback clutched to her chest. Fin was just sitting up to secure her prizes when she *gawped* at Kamy climbing on top of -her boyfriend-. She watched that slide of her tongue to his, their mouths open and grasping as if she was being treated to a close-up of a cinematic still. She gawped and then glowered, pissed off like a firecracker. ".. HEY," she bared her teeth jealously and clamored to her feet, standing next to them and hovering as she tried to think fast. "... Fine, *Elephant Ass*. You fight mean and fair. Who th'fuck am *I* supposed to kiss to piss YOU off huh?" She narrowed eyes at them both and stalked to the cliff edge, dangling the key over the river. ".. Oo, a gust of wind!" she fake-cried.
Lost balance, Dylon was too busy distracted on looking to Fin when Kamy's body launched at him. By the time that back of his hit the dirt she was already upon his ribs, her squeeze, sending that bandage around his side to tighten, ripping open the stitches to the wound that caused him to growl. Well he would of growled, if it wasn't for Kamy's tongue shoved between his lips. A arm came up to his side to try and elbow the Dreg's face out of his to at least giving him some breathing room. "..." A breath of air, a blink or two and he was trying to focus, seeing Fin then holding that key out, leaving him to perk a brow as he tried to process what the hell was going on.
Kamy's eyes lit up at the insult, not sure if the girl was just being clever or if she actually knew that elephant was one of the translations to her name. She came off gasping when he elbowed her chin off his mouth, the wet POP of their lips disconnecting leaving her just as breathless. She sat atop Dylon and glared back at her. "You could kiss people! You could kiss a lot of people!" she defended, not realizing in that moment what a whore she sounded like. In truth there weren't many she'd be jealous over, maintaining the share and share alike concept. She watched the key dangle with an unfair unf. "go ahead and drop it! I fish those waters freckle pussy!" she upped the stakes, the crack of her bum sticking out good as she sliiiid back down Dylon's waist. She'd rip those pants open with impressive skill, born from skinning animals but it worked here too. She shoved a hand down his pants, far more gentle then the kiss in grasping his shaft and trying to forcefully coax it hard and free. "I got a much bigger key anyway..."
Fin STOMPED so hard dirt kicked and coughed and she left a deep imprint. ".. GodDAMN it Kamy!" she hollered at her. "... Fine. Last thing I'm going to do is give you the satisfaction of turning me into a whining mall rat not getting her fucking ice cream cone at the food court." She'd heard about those places, course - most of them were abandoned buildings these days. She'd whirled to find her mid-pants rip... and growled. "If he gets a hardon I'm fucking you in the ass with Marsqueeze's cigar." She pauses, and crouches down to them both. She's -livid-, a boiling anger baking from her skin, breasts heaving with a racing pulse. ".. Just.. lay there, Dylon," she remarks lowly, a sneer touching her lip. Fingers snake into the back of Kamy's waistband, pull it away, and *drop* the key down her ass crack. She keeps the chesspiece though, and moves aside.
The week has just taken a turn for the strange, it was starting to feel like Dylon had dropped acid, again. In twenty four hours he had gone through the motions of violence and all the way to jealousy of seeing Kamy upon his girlfriend, his Fin. Now he was sat there, hand clutched to his side while looking to Fin, by the time it registered on what Kamy was doing her hand was around around his shaft, gripping up his length. That hard on was going to prove more than difficult, blood was already seeping through the side of his jacket, that was something no man had managed to quite maintain, shit, it was like telling your body to multi-task without having control. "Get...your..fuckin...hand...off...my...cock" Words hissed through gritted teeth. As he found himself sandwiched between the girl's power play, but what a sandwich!.
Kamy didn't feel bad for the man at all, hardly even letting him factor in. He had kicked her in the cunt after all. She felt the key slip between her butt cheeks and smiled victoriously. Hands came off his meat and she stuck them in the air in victory. She watched Fina and just found the anger pouring from the woman absolutely sexy. She reached out and tried to snatch the girl's belt as Dylon had done. This whole thing was so ridiculous and it certainly didn't escape Kamy. She'd try to pull at the back of the girl's knees while yanking her down back on top of Kamy. The arms of a wrestler would try to wrangle the angry girl in for another kiss, falling over Dylon and churning her ass upon him like a bar stool. "I win...give me my prize..."
Fin had moved off, too far away to be grabbed, and when Kamy's hand reaches for her, Fin strikes her palm with a boot, hard enough to shove her back, not hard enough to hurt. ".. I *did*. Was going to give it back anyway, asshole. With my record the rangers would be all scowly tellin' me I don't play nice. Then I'd -never- get one. What's in there, a hot-- JESUS DYLON!" she just *spins* off exasperated. ".. Just gonna FUCK her right there in'frunna me??" She's rooted in place, and pulling her bandanna away from her neck side to side.
Dylon tried to clutch for his jeans the moment Kamy's hand released from his prick. "What the fuck yo..." Those words died upon the Dreg's ass slapping over over his lap to grind over. "STOP..." Sending a heavy handed palming slap towards the girl's ass cheeks to grind her right off his lap. Once again he would try to shift himself back, a hand sliding over his jacket that came up with a smear of blood. "...She should be so fuckin lucky..." he said with a hiss as he wiped that hand of his upon the grass. "Whose dream am I in?" Either way, no alarm clock was getting him out of this one.
Kamy rolled her eyes at Fina's tantrum, climbing off Dylon with a jump and fishing the key from her ass, one eye going crooked as she had to fish deep to get it. She produced it just in time to get struck on the ass, a small leap in Fina's direction. "oh calm down...it worked did it not?" she inched the key back into her pocket and sauntered to where Fina was. "you should have seen your face..." she laughed and pranced from foot to foot, clearly teasing Fina for being so worked up with little fake boxing stances. "you think I want to fuck your boyfriend? hmm?" she asked her, waiting for that ridiculous notion to sink into the red head. She was already fucking the sister and the brother, was she going to hit the boyfriend too? "now you don't love Ka-ma-ma anymore?" she asked with a faux pout. "maybe I take you to the cabin and show you. hmm? Did you think to ask?" she had flaunted the key after all for a reason.
Fin snapped shut a plastic lighter and tossed it in the creek. She sucked a full drag of the rolled cigarette's herbal shit and cut her eyes hard to them both, him laying there even as Kamy bounds off to join her. ".. Oh god. Oh no," she mimics in a half-hearted monotone that didn't try at *all*, ".. Please stop. Please don't fuck me. Oh god. Get off. Stop." She pauses, to flick the lit cigarette towards Dylon's lap, while his pants are still undone. ".. And your cock is still out, holmes." To Kamy she shrugs. The anger's dimmed leaving her in dry unconcern. ".. Yes I still love you. And no.. I didn't ask .. thought of it yes, but they're as hard to run into like a priest in a whorehouse. Actually, no. Not that hard!" she sings faux-brightly back.
Breathed long and slow as Dylon was finally free from the pressures of Kamy's body, this would be the moment to gather yourself, instead he listened to the girl's exchange of quips at each other before that rogue cigarette of Fin's landed right into lap, hitting the open fly of his jeans to send a shower of sparks over his crotch. Never had a man stood up so fast with the self harming need of slapping his cock and balls. Ridding himself of the burning glows "....ARGH FUCK SA..." Harshly was that belt closed up, shaking out his legs as he yanked open the buttons of his jacket, shedding himself of the material to then look down his side.
Kamy choked back a laugh when she flicked the cig at Dylon's crotch, a lazy smile as she just inhaled upon the aggressive pheromones coming off the feisty girl. "Fuck you should have been a Dreg Fina...the damage we would cause..." like they weren't already causing problems for the city. She knew the girl was pissed at her but just enjoyed it all the more. She hooked thumbs from her belt and swayed beside her, annoying little hip checks popped into the girl to provoke her further. "we will go when the rangers are not around...it does not seem like such a big deal..." she lied a bit.
Fin spared him a glance. Was that smell the whistling burn of ... hair? Her narrow shoulders jump with a smirk, and she gathers her hair to the other side of her neck, rounding her long spine in a wide hipcheck in return. Thwunk. She held power in her hips and back, moreso than arms and legs, even as bony as they sometimes felt to be. ".. Don't think it would be .. " she agreed, and made the breathy noise that showed she had more to say on the subject.. but stopped herself. Instead, she glanced to Kamy, then back at Dylon. She wasn't even sure if Kamy had successfully "brought the cock home to roost", and wasn't even sure it mattered at this point. ".. So. I'm going to .. buy some birth control. For -everyone-," she adds.
Dylon kept that hand locked to his side as he looked at the pair of girls. "You know what you two are.....a big bag of fuckin troubles...." Shaking his head at them slowly. "...Fuckin hell...." A chuckle, it was rolling over his shoulders as he doubled over a bit. "Somehow Kamy....I get the impression I'm goin to have to get used to you..." That jaw of his clenched then, a throaty grunt before allowing himself to straighten up. "...wait wait....you're not on birth control now?"
"Birth control?" Kamy asked a little confused. "oooh you mean to keep from birth, I get it." she nodded. "the Dreg men blow it on the girl usually, or some use the tubes not used for the sausages" she explained casually. She eyed Dylon with a soft sneer at his comment, reaching out to hang on Fina like he was going to take a picture of them. "why you not think we make a good pair?" she asked and shook a few dreads into the red head's face. "She is too much woman for one man to handle Dylon. You should be happy there is someone like me in her life" she explained.
Fin remains unimpressed by Dylon, and though Kamy didn't get off scoff-free either, she's neither angry nor pleased with them both. There's a strange resignation she feels - she wasn't even sure she'd be the jealous type - never thought she had that kind of .... possession in her. It's there, but it rears its furious head with no warning. For now, she's just left with a dull, faint soundtrack in her mind, some rhythm in her head that's sweeping distance between her and her friends. The dreads thwapping her in the face bring a funny wincing smirk, and she moves between them, arm around either one of their backs. As close as they are, her mind is to those elsewhere thoughts and music. ".. Mm, no, not now," she murmurs. "This afternoon?" She laughs some to Kamy's remark, and bites each of their shoulders.
Airman 1st Class Adam Green rests briefly during a mission with Task Force Infantry men in Eastern Afghanistan.
Not all warriors wear green: Air Force JTACs earn respect
JALALABAD AIRFIELD, Afghanistan – Airmen called Joint Terminal Attack Controllers or members of the Tactical Air Control Party are aligned with Army units and are every bit as tough and hardened as Army infantrymen.
JTACs and TACPs live, eat and march the mountains with the infantry and stand ready to call in close air support for the troops they are embedded with.
"Eighty percent of our deployment is spent in the field," said Airman 1st Class Adam Green, a native of Chandler, Ariz. "Day to day we're out with the 'Joes' on the ground playing cards or getting in contact and putting bombs on the target."
"We bring the fast movers to the table – fast carriers that carry a lot of ordnance, like A-10s," said Air Force Staff Sgt. Derek Wilson from Sacramento, Calif. "There's no better feeling than being in a firefight and having an A-10 arrive choc-full with bombs."
"[We have artillery support] but nothing is going to put more firepower on the battlefield than a 1,000 pound bomb or multiple 1,000 pound bombs," said Green. "That's what we bring."
Calling in bombs on the enemy is not as easy as making a telephone call.
"In a firefight you have to de-conflict fires and airspace; you have guys on the ground yelling at you to get bombs on the target; you have to know the rules of engagement," said Wilson. "You have to bring in those bombs within the perimeter of war. You have to keep a calm head."
The two Airmen did not exaggerate their roles or the austerity of their living.
"These guys spend more time outside the wire than inside," said Air Force Tech. Sgt. Christopher Mann, from Jacksonville, Fla. "Green spent 48 days in a foxhole up in the mountains and Wilson spent six months with (other governmental agencies) before we got here. You're not going to see any other career field in the Air Force spend that much time outside of the wire."
The role of the weapons systems they support is huge on the battlefield. Many times all it takes is a show of force. Just the roar of aircraft getting closer saves lives by intimidating the enemy into breaking contact. It allows friendly forces to act on the change of momentum and pursue or close in on and kill the enemy, said Mann.
"Within months of finishing (technical training) school, these Airmen see combat," said Mann, a onetime instructor at JTAC school. "When I was teaching at the school, I use to tell these guys 'you're going to be in combat. You're going to see friends die, maybe not your Air Force friends, but the Soldiers you become friends with.' But of the 800 students I trained, I never talked to one who said 'this isn't for me.'"
Earning the respect of the infantrymen is a process. Short of dropping bombs and neutralizing the enemy, the airmen prove themselves by keeping up, doing their share, and knowing their job. It's a process they're happy to do.
"Yeah, he has to prove himself," Mann said of an airman fighting alongside the infantry. "But, that's how we get our foot in the door. They will earn respect through their knowledge."
"When you first get to an Army unit there is an aspect of having to prove yourself," said Green. "You're surrounded by these 11-Bravos (infantry) and you have to prove yourself. But once you do your job, they appreciate you being there. All it takes is the first time."
"Some people want to look down on us because we're Air Force," said Wilson. "You walk up to the top of a mountain - we keep up with a ruck heavier than most - and all of a sudden things hit the fan and we go to work. We neutralize the enemy and they're glad we're here. It's gratifying."
These Airmen, some of the few in the Air Force that can be seen wearing berets, Army combat patches and Army awards, get a serious sense of gratification from their work.
"It kind of saves the day, so to speak," Green agreed. "It's a war out here and only so many guys in the Air Force are there to take it to the enemy. That's what's satisfying."
"The best part of our job is being out in the field neutralizing the enemy," said Wilson. "Getting bombs on the target, that's what it's all about."
"There's no other job in the Air Force where you're going to get that kind of first hand action," added Green.
For all the effort involved in earning respect, these "blue Soldiers" benefit from the challenge in a true display of character and insight.
"It's a challenge working with the Army," said Wilson. "You have to prove yourself. You can't let them see you slip or they will hold that to you. You have to be at the top of your game the whole time. Not just because you don't want to slip but because you could potentially get someone killed."
The dedication these Airmen displayed is an uncommon one. Although Army units now serve 15-month deployments, these Airmen have only six month deployments. That didn't stop these Airmen from serving their year, however.
"These guys volunteered to stay along with the extension," said Mann. "That says a lot about these guys. This has been the fifth or sixth deployment for Wilson. (Wilson and Green) are doing a phenomenal job. They both have supported every major contingency operation in the past year."
"I saw a poster that said, 'we need a few good Airmen to join the Army,'" Green recalled. "I shipped off to school not knowing what we really did. I didn't really know what we did until I got down range. Now I know exactly what we are doing."
Suspended Animation Classic #253
Originally published October 31, 1993 (#45)
(Dates are approximate)
Heavy Metal and Justine
By Michael Vance
“Heavy Metal” v. 18 #5/$3.95, 100 pages, from Metal Mammoth, Inc./various artists, writers/available at newsstands, comics shops.
Parents always want their children to become adults, i.e. irresponsible, completely selfish, pleasure obsessed threats to society. These must be comic book parents because this seems to be the comic book definition of adult.
“Heavy Metal” was touted the premier adult comics magazine on American newsstands from its beginning. It reprints mostly European comics, translated and unrestricted by America’s ‘prudish heritage’. It often publishes startlingly beautiful art, exceptional or competent story, and promotes the three standards that define adult: explicit sex, bloody, graphic violence, gutter language.
The proof is in the blood pudding. Of nine features in the current issue, only one set of one-page pieces, “StripTease”, fails to obsess on nudity or sexual encounters. The longest story, “Eden”, is a suspense thriller set in the distant future. Extremely well drawn, full of imagination, and competently written, “Eden” is also rife with exploding bodies, bloody mutilation, and nudity. In fact, if sex were removed from six of the remaining stories, almost nothing would remain of “Network”, “A Present from Upstairs”, and “A Pleasant Walk” (each primarily sex dreams), “Reflections” (fictional slice of Peru’s conquest), and “For Private Eyes” (film noir detective fiction) would be severely crippled.
Much of “Heavy Metal” is artistic excellence; most is marred by an underlying fatalism that values nothing outside of instant gratification.
“Heavy Metal” and most comics labeled “Adult” are actually like kids swapping nasty words and lies on a school ground. They use obscenity and sex because these are forbidden to them by adults. By ‘stealing’ these subjects, kids think they’re adult.
“Heavy Metal” is recommended for these comic book ‘adults’.
MINIVIEW: “Justine” #s 1 & 2. This adaptation of the Marquis De Sade’s sick novel of sex as violence is what most call pornography, and publisher Catalan labels “Erotica”. Ultimately, no matter how well drawn or expertly written, what is the value of perversion? Recommended for no one.
365 - The 2010 Edition - July 29, 2010
Paguma's post tonight reminded me of the sacrifices our parents made - that all parents make - for their kids.. From giving up the last slice of bread, to forking out thousands of dollars for dance lessons and baseball uniforms, we do it - and never look back. I don't regret a thing that I've ever given up so that my kids could do whatever it was they needed to do..
But I'm especially reminded of a couple of things my folks did for me that must have really been hard for them at the time. We weren't poor, but we weren't rich either. With five kids, there just isn't a lot of wiggle room on the budget. So when we wanted something, we had to r-e-a-l-l-y want it... We learned all about delayed gratification, and the art of saving, and lots of other skills that have served my credit rating well over the years..
One year, the folks surprised me with an actual electric guitar. It probably cost over a hundred dollars in the mid-sixties, which would be like a thousand dollars today - at least to our family.. It was a real stretch for them, and an awesome gift for a kid my age.. I tried to teach myself to play, and I believe I even took a few lessons - but it was hopeless.. I couldn't contort my hands to create the chords - had no muscle memory - and couldn't get both hands to work together.. I tried so hard.. I knew it had been a huge investment in me, my future, and my happiness for my parents, and I really, really didn't want to let them down - but it was hopeless..
Still, I kept that guitar, hoping that I would eventually be able to stretch my hands somehow, or learn to make some kind of music with it. In fact, I still have the carcass in the closet.. Travis gutted the pick-ups out of it for some reason, and all the strings are long gone.. The Waa-Waa bar swings uselessly against the sunburst paint on it's old body... But to me, it's value is as dear as ever. Because it's a reminder that my parents loved me, and were willing to help me do whatever it was that I wanted to do in life...
There is something about long exposure photography that I find very calming. Maybe it's the patience that it requires. It definitely loosens up the expectation of instant gratification. Once you can get away from that need, I think creativity flows a little easier.
Check out some more of my work at:
Prints available!
Connect with me on Instagram...
just wait. some fifteen year old is going to jump on my back because i didn't put in a giant robot or a frazetta girl or whatever... i try to tell them that the point of all this studying is to free your mind and see a bigger art. to let you worry about a story instead of the damn vein in someone's bulging bicep, the highlight in an eye, or bigger rounder boobs.
i try to tell people that composition will be where it's at. good composition makes up for lack of detail. good composition adds that extra something to a story that transcends the words it is based on.
it's taken me a long, long time to understand this stuff. maybe that's why it's so hard to pass on to some of these younger kids on the forums. it's not instant gratification, 1-ups, gaining experience points in some damn video game.
Senior Airman Loren Bell inspects a piece of shrapnel, an after effect of his work.
Not all warriors wear green: Air Force JTACs earn respect
JALALABAD AIRFIELD, Afghanistan – Airmen called Joint Terminal Attack Controllers or members of the Tactical Air Control Party are aligned with Army units and are every bit as tough and hardened as Army infantrymen.
JTACs and TACPs live, eat and march the mountains with the infantry and stand ready to call in close air support for the troops they are embedded with.
"Eighty percent of our deployment is spent in the field," said Airman 1st Class Adam Green, a native of Chandler, Ariz. "Day to day we're out with the 'Joes' on the ground playing cards or getting in contact and putting bombs on the target."
"We bring the fast movers to the table – fast carriers that carry a lot of ordnance, like A-10s," said Air Force Staff Sgt. Derek Wilson from Sacramento, Calif. "There's no better feeling than being in a firefight and having an A-10 arrive choc-full with bombs."
"[We have artillery support] but nothing is going to put more firepower on the battlefield than a 1,000 pound bomb or multiple 1,000 pound bombs," said Green. "That's what we bring."
Calling in bombs on the enemy is not as easy as making a telephone call.
"In a firefight you have to de-conflict fires and airspace; you have guys on the ground yelling at you to get bombs on the target; you have to know the rules of engagement," said Wilson. "You have to bring in those bombs within the perimeter of war. You have to keep a calm head."
The two Airmen did not exaggerate their roles or the austerity of their living.
"These guys spend more time outside the wire than inside," said Air Force Tech. Sgt. Christopher Mann, from Jacksonville, Fla. "Green spent 48 days in a foxhole up in the mountains and Wilson spent six months with (other governmental agencies) before we got here. You're not going to see any other career field in the Air Force spend that much time outside of the wire."
The role of the weapons systems they support is huge on the battlefield. Many times all it takes is a show of force. Just the roar of aircraft getting closer saves lives by intimidating the enemy into breaking contact. It allows friendly forces to act on the change of momentum and pursue or close in on and kill the enemy, said Mann.
"Within months of finishing (technical training) school, these Airmen see combat," said Mann, a onetime instructor at JTAC school. "When I was teaching at the school, I use to tell these guys 'you're going to be in combat. You're going to see friends die, maybe not your Air Force friends, but the Soldiers you become friends with.' But of the 800 students I trained, I never talked to one who said 'this isn't for me.'"
Earning the respect of the infantrymen is a process. Short of dropping bombs and neutralizing the enemy, the airmen prove themselves by keeping up, doing their share, and knowing their job. It's a process they're happy to do.
"Yeah, he has to prove himself," Mann said of an airman fighting alongside the infantry. "But, that's how we get our foot in the door. They will earn respect through their knowledge."
"When you first get to an Army unit there is an aspect of having to prove yourself," said Green. "You're surrounded by these 11-Bravos (infantry) and you have to prove yourself. But once you do your job, they appreciate you being there. All it takes is the first time."
"Some people want to look down on us because we're Air Force," said Wilson. "You walk up to the top of a mountain - we keep up with a ruck heavier than most - and all of a sudden things hit the fan and we go to work. We neutralize the enemy and they're glad we're here. It's gratifying."
These Airmen, some of the few in the Air Force that can be seen wearing berets, Army combat patches and Army awards, get a serious sense of gratification from their work.
"It kind of saves the day, so to speak," Green agreed. "It's a war out here and only so many guys in the Air Force are there to take it to the enemy. That's what's satisfying."
"The best part of our job is being out in the field neutralizing the enemy," said Wilson. "Getting bombs on the target, that's what it's all about."
"There's no other job in the Air Force where you're going to get that kind of first hand action," added Green.
For all the effort involved in earning respect, these "blue Soldiers" benefit from the challenge in a true display of character and insight.
"It's a challenge working with the Army," said Wilson. "You have to prove yourself. You can't let them see you slip or they will hold that to you. You have to be at the top of your game the whole time. Not just because you don't want to slip but because you could potentially get someone killed."
The dedication these Airmen displayed is an uncommon one. Although Army units now serve 15-month deployments, these Airmen have only six month deployments. That didn't stop these Airmen from serving their year, however.
"These guys volunteered to stay along with the extension," said Mann. "That says a lot about these guys. This has been the fifth or sixth deployment for Wilson. (Wilson and Green) are doing a phenomenal job. They both have supported every major contingency operation in the past year."
"I saw a poster that said, 'we need a few good Airmen to join the Army,'" Green recalled. "I shipped off to school not knowing what we really did. I didn't really know what we did until I got down range. Now I know exactly what we are doing."
I'm sure this boatshed over in Perth could tell stories about the many photographers who visit to photograph it. I'm sure there are also plenty of visitors who aren't even fussed on capturing an image, but rather just want to experience an iconic location.
I really enjoy photography and in the last couple of years I have really enjoyed capturing images on film. It comes with it some pro's and cons. Cons as it is costly for every shutter actuation but the pro's are gratification from capturing an image in exactly the same way you pictured it. You don;t get instant gratification so you can only trust that you have composed correctly, metered the scene correctly and then set the settings right. In this scene I was a little slow and the light faded between metering and shutter actuation, but what I really like about it is that it actually looks a little old school and filmy due to the noise introduced from being slightly underexposed and a bit of correction.
Captured on a Fuji G617 with Velvia film.
Capture date: 20/11/16
–noun
1.an act of satisfying; fulfillment; gratification.
2.the state of being satisfied; contentment.
3.the cause or means of being satisfied.
4.confident acceptance of something as satisfactory, dependable, true, etc.
When I was a little girl, one of the most frequent pieces of advice I would constantly hear from my grandmother sounded like this:
" Patience is Rewarding" . . .
In this day and age, with instant gratification at our fingertips, how do we teach this valuable lesson to our children, or practice it ourselves?
. . . not an easy feat . . . sometimes just being with nature, experiencing the seasons, weathering the storms, and patiently waiting for spring . . . helps . . . easier said than done!
On Easter Sunday, these wispy reeds *whispered* to me . . . bend with us, feel the breeze, accept the moment!
"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson ~
"Only that thing is free which exists by the necessities of its own nature, and is determined in its actions by itself alone." ~ Baruch Spinoza ~
"This is the highest wisdom that I own; freedom and life are earned by those alone who conquer them each day anew." ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe ~
When I lived in DTLA and had a shot in mind I’d go, over and over, to the same spot at the same time of day, day after day. When the conditions were just right and the weather cooperated, I’d end up with just the right pic. The one that checks all of the boxes and leaves me satisfied. This is that pic from this spot. I don’t need to go here anymore. I only took about a dozen pics on this morning because I needed to sit back and soak it all in. When the fire in the sky reflects off of the buildings and the lights from the traffic trails, it’s pure city bliss. Cityscapes are a personal favorite. Sunrises and sunsets are as cliche as any other but there is a certain amount of gratification in being the one sitting there, witnessing the events unfold, and pressing the shutter. Downtown Los Angeles in the early AM on one weekday winter morning this last December. One I’ll never forget. The one that shut it down. The one that shut it all down.