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M7 105mm Howitzer Motor Carriage, Priest.
My LEGO rendition of the iconic self-propelled artillery from World War II, incorporating an M2A1 gun reverse-engineered from the Brickmania kit.
Read the write-up on The Brothers Brick.
That's right, i didnt stutter bitches, the amahhhzing peeps of dcny are treatng us with a freaking wall of dollarbies, go get em!!!, follow the lm!
Double-sided glossy business cards arrived yesterday (500 cards)! And they're so smooth (from the glossy finish) I cannot wait to start handing these babies out! :D
Check out some of my samples designs here!
UPDATE: If you would really like one, I'd love to send you some (especially if you'll be sharing with friends/family). Feel free to send me an email with your mailing address and I'll send some your way, free of charge: madelaine.etsy@gmail.com
Low key studio shots of Hannah playing the flute, using one studio light in home studio on low power. f/11 stutter 1/125, ISO 100, white balance = flash.
"Take back the Lincoln Memorial! We need those grounds!"
The shout of the woman over the comms caused the Argus troops to advance. The Reflecting Pool was filled with bodies of soldiers, casualties of the invasion. The White Martian's command ship sat behind the memorial, holding the building as a base.
The soldiers rushed forward, firing off round after round of ammunition at the beasts. The aliens were hardly affected by the bullets, seemingly becoming more enraged. A few of the White Martians leaped forward, beginning to attack the men.
"Aghggah," cried one of them as they were impaled by an arm of an invader. Another had a similar reaction as their arms were torn off.
"Ms. Waller, our weapons aren't doing enough damage to them. We need to re-" The man stopped his sentence as he looked up at one of the monsters. It had its hands stretched out to attack. The soldier felt his heart drop as the alien reached forward.
A flash of lightning appeared in his vision, causing him to blink. He watched the streak dart around the front of the memorial, the Martians it passed disappearing.
The lightning returned in front of him after all of the aliens were gone. Standing in front of him was a man in a red and yellow costume, the Flash. "Sorry we're late, had a bit of a headache this morning," quipped the hero, giving the soldier a slight wave. "We can handle it from here."
The man sped off to the memorial, a gust of wind following him.'Wait,' thought the soldier. 'We?'
-~-~-
J'onn J'onzz floated next to the Washington Monument. He watched as the streak of lightning that was Barry Allen ran across the Reflecting Pool, quickly dealing with the White Martian's that were in front of the Lincoln Memorial.
He was relieved that all of the heroes were freed from their prisons, his mind link being successful. He had a small smile form on his face as he saw the red and blue blur soar past him. A black jet in the shape of a bat, followed by a green light passed him next. After seeing another green light fly by, a small platform carrying Aquaman, Green Arrow, and Black Canary, he decided he too should join the battle.
As he flew over the memorial, he saw Wonder Woman and Queen Mera already on the site, slashing through their enemies. Dropping down to the fight, he joined Superman in blasting the army with heat vision. Both of the Green Lanterns were airborne, following Batman to the warship-filled skys.
Black Canary was back to back with Green Arrow, the two working in perfect harmony together, taking out alien after alien with sonic cries or trick arrows. Flash danced around the battlefield, his movements barely registering to the invaders. Aquaman joined his wife and the Amazon in their melee assault.
J'onn witnessed the main vessel shift, a small hatch opening. His senses told him who was exiting immediately. A rage that he didn't think he possessed boiled within him.
'Hello, Filth.'
'Brother.'
-~-~-
Hal shot a large rocket construct from his ring, taking down one of the warships flying overhead. He smirked as he watched the black jet zoom past him. The vehicle opened its bottom compartment, launching cryo-missles out at one of the ships. The large vessel began to ice over at the point of impact, allowing Hal to smash it into hundreds of pieces with a bat construct.
The jet took a nosedive, dodging a large laser that sounded off from one of the larger ships. Hal took notice, sending his arm forward and creating a thin beam of light that passed through the warship's hull. The beam expanded like a fan, slicing the ship clean across the middle. As the remains fell, John flew past him, twin shoulder cannons rattling off energy bullets at the scout ships that swarmed the sky.
Hal weaved past a cannon shot sent from one of the ships. Creating drills on both of his fists, he rocketed towards the attacker. The drills spun rapidly at impact, burrowing directly through the ship. Upon reaching the other end, he turned and let it explode behind him.
Moving on from the destruction, he took note of the scout ship charging it's cannon shot. His eyes watched as it shot an explosive laser aimed directly at Bruce. It hit the wing, causing Bruce to eject. Hal quickly zipped over, catching the Dark Knight in an overgrown elevator.
"Up or down, bats?" Asked Hal, smirking at Bruce's predicament.
"Not the time, Jordan," retorted Bruce, narrowing his lensed eyes while looking at the Lantern.
"Yeah ye- Wait Jordan!?" Exclaimed Hal, baffled at the call of his name.
John flew by the two, shaking his head at the exchange. "Talk about that later," he ordered, pointing to the grounds below. "They're all converging at the main vessel. We need to go help."
-~-~-
J'onn stared down his brother as he floated out of the Martian vessel. His hands were out to the side, like the sun shined only on him. 'So, filth, how has it been running away? Letting your own kind be butchered?'
J'onn grit his teeth. 'That is not what happened, brother. You attempted to kill me!'
'It's a shame, really. I thought that plan would have worked. ' He landed on the ground, observing the various heroes attack his troops before turning to his brother. 'How do you like my new look? Does it scare you like real fire? Will you cower like I know you to do?'
'I will never cower. Especially not from you, J'ymm.' J'onn watched his brother's eyes twitch.
'That name is dead, with the rest of the J'onzz. I am Ma'alefa'ak… and you will fear me before you die.' Ma'alefa'ak then leapt into the air, J'onn following his movements. The two clashed in the sky, hands both stretching in an attempt to be larger than each other.
Below them, the battle of the other heroes and the army continued. Clark slammed his hands into one of the Martian's chests, ripping it in half. Turning his head down, he assisted Bruce by using his heat vision on an attacker. The Martian's cries allerted Bruce, performing a somersault and launching an explosive batarang at the alien.
Mera was wildly slashing her water katana at the mob of aliens. Using her free hand, she created a chain that wrapped around multiple of them leaving them completely immobilized. Hal took advantage of it, creating a saw blade that removed the heads of the creatures, their lifeless forms falling to the floor.
Arthur impaled one of the aliens with his trident, swinging the beast over his shoulder. The body that was splayed on the dirt sizzled as it was hit by a summoned bolt of lightning. Removing his trident from the fried enemy , Arthur threw it, taking down one of the creatures about to attack Dinah. She pivoted her foot, striking the trident to deepen it into the creature behind her. Arthur once again summoned the lightning of Poseidon. Turning back around, Dinah let out a devastating cry to an alien in front of her. The sound waves tore the creature apart, leaving white goop in the attack's wake.
Oliver was rapidly sliding arrows from his quiver to his bow, launching them into the attackers. Against his back was Diana, slashing away as his rearguard. The two moved in sync, Diana adapting to his movements through decades of training. They dodged and attacked in perfect formation, stopping the aliens from getting near each other. Diana removed her lasso from her belt, eyeing Barry speeding around the field.
"Flash," she called, Barry turning his head as he ran. "Catch!"
Diana threw the lasso into the air, Barry leaping up to grab hold. The speedster began to sprint around the field with the lasso, coiling it around his enemies. After rounding up as many as he could, John flew to him, smashing the group with a mallet construct multiple times. Fading the construct, all that were left were white remains.
J'onn was thrown to the ground by his brother, rolling to a crouching position. He looked up to see his brother place his hand to his head. J'onn knew he was attempting a psychic attack, so he prepared one of his own. The two both initiated their attacks, causing a small shockwave of psychic energy.
-~-~-
The world was twisted as J'onn opened his eyes. Red sands were drenched in blood, civilization crumbled to rubble. J'onn felt a voice pierce his eardrums.
"Doesn't look too beautiful, does it? A world where the filth survived. The White long extinct." His brother was in his Martian form, the tattoos of flames still present on his stomach.
"This isn't a game, brother,"J'onn spoke, his tone angered and long done with his brother's act of war. "Earth has done nothing wrong."
"Oh haven't they?" He asked. "They've harbored you for decades! They murdered one of my own!" His brother's composure was faltering, his true character breaking the facade.
J'onn took a step forward, anger completely taking over his voice. "And!? You would slaughter millions for an act of petty revenge? Are you still a child, J'ymm?"
Ma'alefa'ak clenched his fists. "I told you that's not my name anymore!" His act broke, his anger destroying the character he had made to mentally break his brother. Suddenly silver chains wrapped around J'onn's body, locking him in place. "I told you… I am Ma'alefa'ak."
J'onn narrowed his eyes as he looked at his brother. "What do you want then brother? To eliminate me?"
Ma'alefa'ak began to laugh maniacally. "Eliminate you?" He asked inquisitively. "No, filth. I will make you suffer," his words twisted, the malice from before returning. "I will break your mind until you don't even remember your daughter's name."
J'onn clenched his fists at the mention of K'hym, but instantly dropped them as he felt heat on his body. The chains wrapped around him began to glow, fire erupting off of them. He watched as flames began to swirl around him and his brother, a circle forming. The fire danced in his eyes, burning into his soul, causing him to yell in agony.
"Yes. Scream. Scream for everything you, and your kind, have ever done."
-~-~-
An Arrow landed in the stomach of one of the White Martians. After a few ticks, the arrowhead exploded, sending the Martian splattering across the ground. Oliver reached to his quiver, a look of slight worry as he felt nothing.
His head turned to the blonde woman beside him. "Hey pretty bird, I'm all outta arrows."
She ducked under a swipe from the Martian in front of her, tilting her head up and letting off a scream that took off the invader's head. "That doesn't seem like my problem."
She placed a hand in his shoulder, pushing him to a crouch. Her leg raised, performing a roundhouse kick to another one of the attackers.
Bruce shot his grappling gun at one of the Martians, pulling himself towards it. A kick caused it to stumble, only for a streak of lightning to pass by, taking the alien down. Barry stopped in front of Bruce, giving himself a moment to breathe.
"There are just too many of them," Barrry huffed out. "It's getting a little tiring." He watched as Bruce's eyes narrowed, looking at the giant machine.
"Superman hasn't been able to penetrate the vessel's outer shell. We need a way to get inside." He continued to stare as Hal flew down to join the two.
"Can't J'onn phase through it? He'd be able to get inside."
"No," stated Bruce bluntly. "He's busy with their leader."
Barry looked between the two, then to the vessel. "GL, make me a ramp." Both Hal and Bruce looked at him confused by the request. "If you get me to that hatch, I can phase through it."
"Y-you can phase!?" Hal asked loudly, Barry giving him a nod.
"Once inside, place this down on the main control panel. It'll send a reverse frequency, shutting down all of their tech." Bruce took a small, bat-shaped device from his belt and placed it into Barry's palm.
Hal created a small ramp, wrapping around the vessel up to the small hatch on the top. Barry's body lit up with lightning, his blurred form quickly running up the construct. Upon reaching the hatch, his body began to vibrate, slipping directly through the shell into the vessel.
Hal returned to Bruce, shielding him from an electrical surge that appeared from the giant warship. The two looked up to see the ships in the sky begin to fall. John and Clark both flew into the air, Hal following to reduce the damage of the falling ships.
Bruce watched as a ball of lightning leapt from the main vessel. The electricity stopped, revealing a smiling Barry. "All done."
Bruce gave him a nod in return, watching as the red beam that shot out of the vessel changed to a bright blue, purifying the sky. The White Martians all began to smoke, their skin sizzling. The aliens began to fall, their skin melting as the machine's solar laser began to shine on them.
Arthur lowered his trident, the base hitting the ground. Mera and Diana both lowered their swords, watching the army fall. Oliver and Dinah both smiled at each other, the last of the aliens in the area falling.
Bruce noticed J'onn and Ma'alefa'ak both still in a psychic battle. The White Martian's skin was sizzling, but he seemed to have some resistance to it. Bruce realized that it was up to J'onn at this point. It all depended on him.
-~-~-
J'onn screamed in agony as the flames scorched his mind. His brain raced as he thought for a means of escape, but his brother's hold was too strong.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Questioned his Ma'alefa'ak, smirking as he watched him thrash in his bindings. "Good, let it rip your consciousness apart." His brother's smile sent shivers down his spine, the utter malice immeasurable.
"J'ymm, stop this!" J'onn cried, barely able to speak.
His brother began to laugh. "You still are calling me that name. I… told you… I…"
J'onn noticed his brother's voice begin to stutter. The chains wrapped around him began to loosen, the flames dissipating. His arms finally were able to snap the chains, his brother wincing at the effect.
"H-how… how are you… you filthy…" His brother's words began to slur, sweat dripping down his face. He instantly lunged at J'onn.
J'onn raised his hand, a barrier forming in front of him. His brother slammed into the invisible wall hard, sending him to the ground.
"You butchered my people," J'onn spoke, summoning chains of his own. They burst from the ground, wrapping around his brother's legs. "You invade my new home." Two more chains erupted from the ground, wrapping around both of his wrists. "You attempt to destroy everything beautiful Earth has to offer!" A final chain appeared from the sand, wrapping around his neck.
"How!?"
His brother's cry went unanswered as walls began to raise around him. "You will never hurt anyone ever again." The walls fully surrounded Ma'alefa'ak, a sole opening for J'onn to peer into. "I will not kill you, but you will never leave your own mind," spoke J'onn, a sense of calm in his voice. "This will be your eternal purgatory."
J'onn closed his eyes, ready to exit the plane. "You b-better kill me! Because i-if you d-don't… I-I'll be b-back!"
J'onn sighed. "And I, brother, shall be waiting."
-~-~-
J'onn's eyes opened to an orange colored sky, no longer red. Six faces hovered over his own, Barry, Oliver, Dinah, Diana, Arthur, and Mera.
"Welcome back to the real world," joked Oliver, reaching a hand down to him. He took it, pulling himself up to a stand. "Thought we lost you there for a second."
"It is done," spoke J'onn. "My brother is trapped in his own mind."
"You did it," stated Barry, splaying his hands up like they held a sign. "Martian Manhunter saves the day."
J'onn looked at Barry with an inquisitive look. "Martian… Manhunter?"
Barry let out a small chuckle. "Y'know, your hero name. You can't run around calling yourself your actual name."
J'onn nodded slightly before turning his head. Bruce was standing over Ma'alefa'ak. He had removed his cape, covering the villain to prevent the solar laser from killing him. J'onn would need to thank the Dark Knight later.
Clark, Hal, and John all flew to the ground, joining the group. The 11 of them stood together, the sun rising behind them, painting them all with an orange glow.
They had won. The world was safe once again.
Final Fantasy XV Windows Edition
NVIDIA Ansel
Pushing the boundaries running this game with only 4GB in ram. Stutters just a lil bit, but still epic graphics
The extra-long sequel to: www.flickr.com/photos/133558185@N07/23290211525/in/dateta...
Chris Peterson’s eyes snapped open. He was in some kind of interrogation chamber, immobilized in the grasp of a wicked apparatus. Assumably he was still on board the Blabber superweapon. A dark, cloaked figure stood before him, its emotionless visor reflecting his own face back at him.
“So, you’re finally awake,” it said, in a rather disinterested voice, “I would’ve thought my neural stimulators would’ve woken you up faster, but I guess you don’t have enough brain mass for them to be effective.”
“Nice torture chamber,” said Chris, looking around with a smirk, “I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect such high-grade facilities from an Overlord of your, erm, caliber.” He smiled to himself as he surveyed the forbidding room. Doubtless this darkly arrayed being felt rather put out by his coolness, he thought, after all it’d gone through to look intimidating. Maybe it even felt a little insecure, after all…
“AH!” Chris cried, his train of thought cut short as he turned his head and found himself staring down the four barrels of an oversized laser turret.
“That… That’s big,” he added, trying not to look like he’d almost wet himself.
“I have some questions for you,” said the figure. Chris’ face hardened.
“I’ll never tell you anything, murderer. I’d sooner be smashed to subatomic particles than breathe a word to you,” he said.
“Well, then I suppose there’s no point in keeping you alive,” said the figure, turning away. Light suddenly blazed in the turret’s barrels, promising to literally blow Chris to atoms in a few seconds.
“Wait, wait, wait!” he screamed, “I’ll talk, I’ll be reasonable! I’ll say anything you want! Just turn that thing off!” The upcoming blast faded away back into the depths of turret and the figure turned to face him once more, chuckling.
“Your endurance is truly heroic.” it said, a sarcastic smile in its voice, “Now, onto the questions. First, what is this? A laser plunger?” The figure pulled out Chris’ weapon of choice, igniting its glowing conical end.
“No, no, that’s an Electromagnetic Extractor,” Chris explained, “Though, now that you mention it, it does kinda look like a toilet plunger… Aw, cummon, why’d you have to point that out? I never noticed it before!”
“Moving onto the second question—what is this?” the figure pulled out Chris’ Superdimensional Karate Assistant & Travel Evolver (SKATE) board, throwing it down on the floor. In its folded state, it rather resembled a mangled duck made of titanium, but Chris knew it was much more powerful than it looked. He thought fast. If this overlord found out that his SKATE board was an interdimensional conveyance that could go nearly anywhere in the universe in a matter of minutes, it would doubtlessly use it for its own purposes. And that would be… Bad. Really, really bad.
“Oh, uh, that’s um, uh… That’s kinda personal,” he said, wracking his brains for a conceivable lie.
“If you’d rather not tell me, I can just melt your face off and figure it out myself.” suggested the figure, glancing at the turret.
“No, no, if you really wanna know, I’ll tell you,” protested Chris, “It’s a… Mobile waste disposal system.”
“It’s a what?” asked the figure.
“It’s a portable toilet,” Chris elaborated.
“Ahuh,” said the figure, glancing at SKATE with a mixture of newfound disgust and curiosity. “Moving on—why, and more importantly how, did you just walk into my Blabber and sabotage my Phlebotium Core? Do you have any idea how freakishly hard it was to get the Phlebotium to make that? Do you? Because I feel like, if you did, you would’ve thought twice before blowing the entire thing to smithereens without a thought about the trials of an Overlord.” The figure’s voice, previously apathetic and emotionless, started to betray some annoyance.
“Oh, I know how hard it was for you to get that. In fact, I was the reason it was so hard for you to get your Phlebotium whatchimidoohickey. And, if everything had gone well, you would’ve never even gotten it in the first place,” said Chris, with some pride he couldn’t conceal.
“Is that so?” asked the figure, “What great operative do I have the honour of addressing?” His voice was laden with sarcasm.
“I’m Chris Peterson,” said Chris, “And I’m not an operative. I’m a freelancer.”
“I can tell,” said the figure, eyeing the Electromagnetic Extractor with contempt. “May I ask why a freelancer would sneak into a top-security superweapon-equipped space station that belongs to an obscure overlord without a planet to his name?”
“Uh…” said Chris, trying not to cross the line between bragging and blabbing, “No reason. Or at least, not one I’m going to tell you.”
“Well, alright,” said the figure, “Send me a postcard from the afterlife.” The turret powered on once more, this time so quickly Chris could feel the heat of the forthcoming beam on his face as he shouted in panic.
“Fine, fine! I’ll tell you! Just don’t blow me up!” he cried frantically. The dangerous light in the turret’s barrels slowly backed away, but did not leave entirely this time, lingering like the gleam of insectoid eyes.
“To clarify, it wouldn’t blow you up—it’d melt you. Slowly,” explained the figure, “Now tell me why you blew up my Core.”
“Well…” said Chris, hesitantly, “You kinda used your superweapon to wipe out six billion people or so… And that’s not cool. Thankfully your Blabber thing kinda blew up when you used it, so you backed off for about twenty years. But then you came back, and with your new fancy Core you were gonna be able to hit multiple planets in a row without a hitch and scare everybody into submission. And that really wasn’t cool. So I blew up your Core.”
“Certainly you had to have a better reason than that you thought my conduct ‘wasn’t cool’. Plenty of people think what the Overlords do isn’t ‘cool’, but few have the pluck to strike back against them. Or the tech, for that matter. So why’d you do it?” asked the figure.
“Because it was the right thing to do,” said Chris, proudly.
“Oh please,” snorted the figure, rolling its eyes behind its visor, “Everyone says that. What’s the real reason? Do you have friends down on my target of choice, perhaps?” The darkly-clad being wandered towards the big screen that displayed the planet the Blabber was orbiting. Chris new it well. Very well.
“Ehm…” stuttered Chris. The fact was, it was actually his planet, and he did have a dear friend or two down on it. He didn’t feel like admitting that was a good idea, though. Revenge ran deep in the blood of the Overlords. Or at least in blood of the ones who had blood.
“That would be an interesting revelation,” the figure continued, “I wiped out everybody on this planet with my first strike, except for a couple thousand or so. It’d be rather ironic if, out of that ridiculously small tithe of people, someone managed to grow up and then acquire the tech to sabotage my second design. Ironic and annoying.”
“Heheh, it is kind of ironic,” said Chris, before he could help himself. “I mean, uh, that you were thwarted at the same planet twice; the first time because you didn’t have a powerful enough Core, and the second time by a guy like me. You just can’t catch a break, can you?”
“Seemingly not.” said the figure coldly, “I have one last question: Where’s your girlfriend?”
“My what?” asked Chris.
“That lady you were with in the Core Room. She’s not showing up on any of my scanners. Not even giving a life reading. Normally I’d just assume she’d been smashed, but my security cameras and motion sensors seem to be telling otherwise. I’ve been catching glimpses of her for about an hour now. Where’s she hiding, and how is she doing it?”
“First off, she is NOT my girlfriend,” said Chris, “She’s just… No, not that… And secondly, I have no idea where she is. Even I can’t find her most of the time.”
“What stealth tech is using?” asked the figure.
“I dunno,” said Chris, which was true. He was bad at remembering names, especially technical ones. The lights in the turret’s barrels began to get brighter, and the figure turned round again.
“Don’t try and play games with me, freelancer,” it said, “You and your not-girlfriend are much more likely to live if you surrender. Just tell me how I can detect her and I’ll spare your lives.” Chris could feel the heat of the turret’s blast on his face, getting hotter and hotter.
“I seriously don’t know!” he cried, “Honestly! If I did I’d totally betray her like a weakling, but I really don’t!”
“Then why should I keep you alive?” asked the figure. Chris’ face was beginning to burn, and the light was so bright now he could hardly see. And then, quite suddenly, the turret switched off, the light exploding in its barrels as its containment field failed. A chunk of shrapnel hit the figure over the head, knocking him across the room. One of the floor grates was pushed aside from below, and out of the hole it left leapt the very woman they’d been talking about.
“Charlotte!” cried Chris, in surprise. Without replying, she snatched his Extractor and SKATE off the ground, grabbed him by the shoulder, and switched on the latter. A giant invisible sphere deformed the world around them, the interrogation room fading away as a wormhole sucked them into another dimension.
“This isn’t the end!” cried the figure’s voice, and then the physical world vanished.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=8zSRkr1nQNw
"You still stutter after certain questions
You keep in contact with certain exes
Do you, though, trust me, nigga, it's cool, though
Said that you was workin', but you're out here chasin' culo
And putas, chillin' poolside, livin' two lives
I could've did what you did to me to you a few times
But if I did decide to slide, find a nigga
Fuck him, suck his dick, you would've been pissed
But that's not my M.O., I'm not that type of bitch
And karma for you is gon' be who you end up with"
Max Headroom was a futuristic computer-generated character on a popular British television series back in 1985. He became well known for his jerky techno-stuttering speech, wit, and puns. Now he's just a piece of discarded cardboard.
Molly: *snorts loudly, clearly stating that he is indeed ‘well aware’*
Diego: *shrugs, signs/says* “That seems to be the consensus, not that it’s doing me a damn big of good where it matters.”
Yuri: “And, pray tell, where does it matter?”
Diego: *turns his head and stares directly into Charley’s eyes with a heart-stuttering intensity*
Charley: *returns his gaze steadily, lips parting, as she struggles to keep her breathing even*
Yuri: “Hmm…*studies the pair, face enigmatic* I shall have to consult with Kumi about this straightaway. Diego, may I take a photo of you with my phone? It will help during our discourse, if we have visual aids.”
Charley: *breaks eye contact with Diego to gawk at Yuri* “Consult about what?”
Yuri: *waves her hand back and forth between Diego and Charley* “This.”
Charley: *steps away from Diego, voice low* “There is no ‘this.’”
Molly: *rolls her eyes exasperatedly, signs* “I need more gummy worms.” *turns on her heel, stalks off*
Diego: “You shouldn’t argue with her, Charley. She clearly has a better grasp on the situation than you do.”
Charley: *grabs her jars of peanut butter from the cart, stiffly* “If you’ll both excuse me, I’m going to pay for these and head back to the apartment. I have to get ready for my date with Dane, my boyfriend.” *pivots smartly, marches off*
Yuri: “She does not seem to be reacting well to your advances, Diego.”
Diego (unconcernedly): “She’s reacting just fine. The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s apathy…and there has never been, nor will there ever be, anything apathetic about Bug’s feelings for me.”
Yuri: “Surely you recognize that you are playing a weighty game here. You stand to lose all.”
Diego: “Far be it from me to correct you, since you don’t strike me as the type to appreciate it, but you’re wrong on both counts.”
Yuri: *watches Charley’s retreat, face thoughtful* “Really? Do enlighten me, then.”
Diego: “Firstly, this is no game. Secondly, I already lost it all when she left the first time. Now…*hands tighten around the handle of the cart, as he follows Charley departure with hungry eyes* I’m trying to win it all back.”
To be continued next Tuesday…
Fashion Credits
***Any doll enhancements (i.e. freckles, piercings, eye color changes, haircuts) were done by me unless otherwise stated.***
Yuri
Skirt: Mattel – BFMC – Pretty in Pleats Barbie
Bodysuit, Belt & Stockings: IT – Monogram – Discreet
Shoes: IT – NuFace – Miracle Child Ayumi
Purse: Randall Craig RTW Accessory Set
Long Necklaces & Ring: IT – NuFace – Miracle Child Ayumi
Choker: Me
Doll is Nu.Fantasy Little Red Riding Hood Yuri transplanted to a NuFace body.
Charley
Jeans: Clear lan
Top: Sekiguchi Momko – Lazy Seventeen
Belt: Cangaway (etsy.com)
Sneakers: Sekiguchi Momoko Accessory
Glasses: Sekiguchi Momoko Accessory
Necklace: Me
Doll is a Morning Dew Giselle transplanted to a Poppy body, re-rooted by the superlative valmaxi(!!!)
Diego
Jeans: Clear lan
Shirt: IT – Fashion Royalty – Homme – Raw Appeal Lukas
Vest: IT – Fashion Royalty – Homme – Fast Track Victor James
Belt: Miema (etsy.com)
Shoes: IT – Poppy Parker – Baby, It’s You Chip
Hat: Mattel – Barbie Collectible – Frank Sinatra: The Recording Years
Necklace: Me
Doll is a Rock Steady Romain, eyes, brows, facial hair, and shading by me.
Pieter Bruegel der Ältere -
Zwei angekettete Affen [1562] -
Berlin, Gemälde-Galerie - wm
**********************************************************************************
Wislawa Szymborska
Two Monkeys by Brueghel
(trans. from the Polish by Magnus Kryski)
I keep dreaming of my graduation exam:
in a window sit two chained monkeys,
beyond the window floats the sky,
and the sea splashes.
I am taking an exam on the history of mankind:
I stammer and flounder.
One monkey, eyes fixed upon me, listens ironically,
the other seems to be dozing--
and when silence follows a question,
he prompts me
with a soft jingling of the chain.
english.emory.edu/classes/paintings&poems/szymborska....
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By Marleen Stoessel - Updated 30.06.2023-17:30
From Breughel to Kafka: an early poem by the Polish Nobel laureate who was born a hundred years ago.
The painting to which this poem refers hangs in the Berlin Gemäldegalerie. Two monkeys crouched chained in a kind of embrasure, with a view of the water and sailing ships deep below them; birds crossing the vast sky bounded only by the round arch of the window, the suggestion of a city far off in the right-hand background of the picture. But none of the monkeys is looking out. The one in front crouches with its back to the lookout, staring impassively in the direction of the viewer. The second one crouches to the side, as if dozing. A picture from 1562 that has been interpreted in numerous ways and, almost 400 years later, becomes the dream image of a young Polish poetess who, at that time, in the thaw period a few years after Stalin's death, frees herself from the ideological clutches, i.e. chains, of socialist realism. An image that, like any true work of art, music or literature, reveals new layers, aspects and perspectives in every era, recreating itself with every viewer, listener or reader, with everyone who responds to it in their own time, in their own individual reading.
1957, when this poem was written, was the year in which the poetry of Wisława Szymborska, who was thirty-four years old at the time, underwent a decisive turn and transformation, a turn towards the simplicity, light-footedness and laconicism that are her trademarks - an attitude gained from paradoxical experience of the world, with which she observes the objects of the small everyday world and the big world and seasons them with subtle, often cheerful irony. Small things become big, but the big ones shrink as if casually to their proper size - all of them overshadowed by an indulgently humorous smile with which the poet seems to wink at herself again and again.
The quiet clanking of chains
It is impossible to exhaust the manifold connotations, associations and references that open up in this poem: the paradoxical reversal of the situation that the dream image, overwriting its model as it were, undertakes, in which man is tested by the ape for his "maturity", in human history of all things. Is evolution testing itself backwards here, so to speak? Is man maturing into an ape as his more human counterpart? And yet fails at the same time "stuttering" and "faltering", deeply ashamed?
"Ich schäme mich sehr, ich - Menschenaffe" ("I am very ashamed, I - ape") is the title of another poem from that time, expressing the shame of the spectator in the face of the bullied and whipped circus animals (the title of the 1952 poem). The shame here appears more planar, in simple reflection, while the later dream image shows the chains in multiple reflections, onsets and offsets. They are the examination material before which the examinee fails. And all the required correct answer is contained in the "quiet clanking of the chains", in an answer that also has to be recited. It doesn't get more mocking than this, and more devastating for the dreaming human ego can't be the ape-like contempt. "Failed" would be the verdict of this maturity test, to which a notation from Walter Benjamin's passages seems to correspond: "In every century, humanity must be detained", according to the sober insight of the historical-philosophical thinker, equally illusionless, ironic and bitter.
All the art of paradox, which Szymborska, who died in 2012, developed in her later work with inimitable fine irony, as generously indulgent as she was laconically sober and always with a light hand, is contained in this early poem. Indulgent, however, towards herself, insofar as one wants to relate the aforementioned shame to her earlier ideological aberrations. It is expressed only indirectly, in stuttering and faltering, and its tragedy is reminiscent of and touches on the shame that the ape in Kafka's "Report for an Academy" inflicts on us when, with the awakening consciousness of himself to which, of all things, imprisonment has freed him, he becomes aware of the ape-like nature of his "half-dressed" companion: "she has," we are told towards the end of the text, "the madness of the confused trained animal in her gaze; only I recognise this, and I cannot bear it. "
It is the abyss of shame that opens up in all these paradoxical references - and becoming aware of it is at the same time the only chance of our being human and being human.All of this, shame and opportunity, resonates in the "quiet clanking of the chains" from which the poetic I also frees itself.For as if the poet, who received the Nobel Prize in 1996, had made a virtue out of the faltering need for examination, she will elevate the sober statement "I don't know" to her poetological motto and source of inspiration in her Stockholm speech.Three words, "small, but with strong wings", she says. Chains to wings, then, as only art or a poem can do. Tomorrow, Sunday, (2nd of July 2023) Wisława Szymborska will be one hundred years old.
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Source:
ww.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/buecher/frankfurter-anthologie/frankfurter-anthologie-wis-awa-szymborska-die-zwei-affen-von-breughel-19002140.html
A junction of copings provide the basis for a multiple exposure.
Hand-held nine frame ICM multiple exposure. Frames exposed in a short sharp upward sweep, following the line in the left of the frame. Big amends in Lightroom.
ChunkaChunkaChunka at Pelcomb Portraits.
I've always wanted to shoot a long exposure of fair-rides, and this was my first attempt. Definitely pleased with the results--this was from when they were off-loading people, and only moving in small motions. To me, this "spoke" look is much more interesting than large circular trails.
Nikon D800
Nikon 16-35 f4 VRII
Polarizer
Natural light
This sun was mine and yours; we shared it.
Who’s suffering behind the golden silk, who’s dying?
A woman beating her dry breasts cried out: ‘Cowards,
they’ve taken my children and torn them to shreds, you’ve killed them
gazing at the fire-flies at dusk with a strange look,
lost in blind thought.’
The blood was drying on a hand that a tree made green,
a warrior was asleep clutching the lance that cast light against his side.
It was ours, this sun, we saw nothing behind the gold embroidery
then the messengers came, dirty and breathless,
stuttering unintelligible words
twenty days and nights on the barren earth with thorns only
twenty days and nights feeling the bellies of the horses bleeding
and not a moment’s break to drink the rain-water.
You told them to rest first and then to speak, the light had dazzled you.
They died saying ‘We don’t have time’, touching some rays of the sun.
You’d forgotten that no one rests.
A woman howled ‘Cowards’, like a dog in the night.
Once she would have been beautiful like you
with wet mouth, veins alive beneath the skin,
with love.
This sun was ours; you kept all of it, you wouldn’t follow me.
And it was then I found out about those things behind the gold and the silk:
we don’t have time. The messengers were right.
Giorgos Seferis
A Former Friend.
Hunter Zolomon - Two boys as thick as thieves, Hunter Zolomon and Wally West spent most of their adolescent and adult life together. Everyone around them knew they were closer than brothers from the moment they met, sharing everything from toys to their very first jobs. They were both two of the nicest boys while simultaneously being the biggest troublemakers those around them had ever known. Every day one could find the pair together, that was until Wally moved to Central City to live with his aunt Iris and her boyfriend Barry, thus leaving Hunter by himself in Keystone City. While the pair were only separated by the Gem Cities Bridge, the two quickly became distant from each other. Their weekly car trip across the state line to visit one another swiftly drifted into a once in a while text message or phone call. Eventually the messages mostly stopped as Wally moved to New York for what he claimed would be a great learning opportunity at a prep school.
Hunter was left alone in Keystone for years, and because of his tight bond with Wally coupled with not really knowing many more friends than him, Hunter had a hard time finding any luck socializing with the other kids in his school. Eventually, Hunter dropped out of his school and opted to finish his high school years online, furthering his isolation from any form of friendship. After Zolomon graduated from high school he spent a few years in a community college but his real goal was to become a cop when he became of age. So once he turned twenty-one Hunter enrolled in to a police academy so as to fulfill his goal.
A few years had passed and Hunter had become an esteemed police officer, even being considered a promotion to detective after he cracked a case that had stumped many of his fellow officers. All while this was happening, Wally had finished college and was travelling the world with the Titans, though Hunter only knew that he was with some “friends.” Eventually, Wally made his way back to the Gem Cities to stop by and visit his Aunt and her now Husband. While there Wally made his way across the bridge to once again meet up with Hunter. The pair hung out at Zolomon’s house and reminisced about old times as well as caught up on things that had transpired since the last time they had seen each other. Wally went on and on about his travels across the country and abroad all while Hunter really only had stories of cases he had worked on and nothing more.
Almost a year passed and Wally had since moved back home to Keystone City where he began work as a mechanic for Zolomon’s precinct. All felt right again as the pair again began to spend most of their free time together. That was until one day Zolomon was called to a case that got very violent. Caught in a shootout, Hunter had nowhere to go so he had no other option but to call for back up. Unfortunately the back up showed up to late and Hunter was caught in the cross fire of two rival gangs. A stray shot struck Hunter in the back and instantly paralyzed him. The loud gunfire caught the attention of Wally who was patrolling the city as the Flash. Quickly, Wally made it to the scene and disarmed all of the gang members, even going as far as finding some chain to tie up all of the thugs. With a painful groan, Hunter yelled for the Flash to come to his aid. Wally swiftly ran to Hunter’s side and quickly unmasked in an attempt to calm Hunter. In the blink of an eye, Wally got Hunter to the hospital before any further damage happened and the doctors were able to stabilize Zolomon. However, due to the point at which the bullet entered Zolomon’s back he was now left paralyzed from the waste down.
After Hunter was discharged from the hospital he and Wally met up so Hunter could thank his friend for saving him that day. Wally assured Hunter that he would do anything to help Hunter and that he would be by his side whenever he was needed. Hunter again thanked Wally and the pair began discussing Wally’s secret life and all things superpower related. Eventually the conversation got the point that Wally mentioned that at one point he travelled back in time thanks to a “cosmic treadmill” that Star Labs had let him use. With this information, Hunter asked Wally if there was a way that he could use the treadmill to go back in time and stop what had happened. Wally quickly shot down the idea because he said that it would tamper with the timeline and only cause more issues to arise if he did so. Hunter begrudgingly agreed, though he began to think that if he could somehow gain access to this treadmill that maybe he could reverse the events that had transpired.
So with this hopeful idea, Hunter secretly made his way to Star Labs in Central City. There he broke in to the facility and found what could only be described as a glorified treadmill. With what little mobility he had left in his lower body, Hunter made his way onto the treadmill after finding the power source and flicking it on. Hunter braced himself on a bar and waited for the treadmill to begin moving. With a loud roar and a fury of blinking lights, the treadmill began to slowly move. Zolomon began to stumble along the moving ground beneath him as the machine began to hiss and stutter. A loud crack sounded behind Zolomon and a flash of electricity jolted his legs causing him to fall face first on the ever accelerating platform on which he stood. As Hunter crashed off the back of the treadmill he noticed a small puff of smoke coming from the treadmill’s power source. The small puff quickly became a large billowing stack of smoke as a large blast of flames came bursting forth out of an electrical panel. Hopeless once more, Hunter laid there as the machine roared ever louder and sputter flames onto the ground before him. Hunter closed his eyes as he knew the machine was about to explode before him, though to his surprise, with the sound of a loud pop he found himself falling through a realm of electricity. In shock, Hunter faded into unconsciousness and landed back into the reality he found familiar.
After coming to, Hunter found himself in a hospital room, a surrounding he had unfortunately grown accustomed to. Though this time he felt different, he could feel his legs and every muscle in them. For the first time in almost a year Hunter could move his legs, so he did what anyone would do in his position, he got up and began walking. Much to his surprise, however, as he began walking he was moving much quicker than he could really comprehend. In a second he found himself outside the hospital and in the middle of the street outside. Somehow he could set his sights on a place and in the blink of an eye his legs could carry him there with little to no effort. Remembering what had happened to him and why it did, Hunter became filled with rage towards Wally. He knew that Wally could have stopped what had happened to him because of the very fact that he now had the ability to move his legs again.
Filled with rage, Hunter raced to Wally’s house, there he found Wally’s girlfriend, Linda. Without thinking much, Hunter took a hold of Linda and raced her out to the exact spot where he had gotten shot. Angrily, Hunter grabbed Linda’s phone from her jacket pocket and dialed Wally. Hunter told him exactly where he was and what he would do if Wally didn’t show up to talk to him. Zolomon figured that Wally wasn’t willing to risk his life to help him get his legs back, so he was going to pay for it by losing his girlfriend. One thing kept racing through Zolomon’s mind and that was that Wally had never truly cared for him. To Hunter, that’s why Wally left him alone all those years ago. In Hunter’s mind, Wally was the reason every bad thing had happened to him, so in return Hunter himself would be the reason every bad thing moving forward would happen to Wally. Along with the powers of the Speed Force, Anger, rage, jealousy, and heartbreak are the only things that seem to course through the veins of Hunter Zolomon.
To save this man’s life I grab hold of him and lift him up off his feet. Saying he wasn’t best pleased would be an understatement, but he knows that his only options are to stay in close proximity to my person or be shot by Talia. Needless to say it can be assumed he isn’t a big fan of being shot, then again aside from Clark who is? Thus, in order to save his own skin, he chooses to not put up much of a fight. Normally that would be quite alarming. If an opponent suddenly stops his attacks, it’s never a good sign. Often it means they have something that will tip the odds in their favour. In this case though I appear to hold all the cards. It’s either lose to me or be shot by Talia. I don’t approve of using death as a method to force compliance but in this scenario I have no choice. My suit is in poor shape and I can’t afford another drawn out fight with him so I have to end this now.
Sadly, for him the end of this battle isn’t good for him in either scenario. The only difference is that with me he’ll walk away with his life.
”Get out of the way! It’s him or us.”
”I won’t let you indulge in your father’s tactics Talia. If you use his methods, you’re no better than him!”
”Move Bruce, don’t make me fire on you!”
It’s a bluff. At least I hope so. Talia may have no quarrels with taking a life, but she doesn’t have a major blood thirst unlike some of the other members of the League, in part due to her not being overexposed to the Lazarus pit. Perhaps that’s why Damian was so willing to kill anyone in his path, not because of his training but because of his exposure to the pit’s effect. It’s hard to know given my lack of knowledge as to the extent of his training.
Maybe I’m just telling myself that in the hopes that he can be redeemed. After all who wants their son to be a willing serial killer. Huh. Funny. That’s the first time I’ve actually referred to him as my son. I only wish it was under better circumstances.
After a few quick punches to the chest, the assailant is all but defeated. The only thing needed is to restrain him. Originally I had intended to simply drop him to the ground and use a pair of the handcuffs on the floor, from when I forced my belt to empty its contents, and leave him for Jim. But that all changes as he reaches for a small knife on his leg holster. Just like their katanas , this knife is able to cut through the armour of my suit as if it was simply paper.
Needless to say, in a moment of both shock and anger I quickly throw him to the other side of the room causing him to slam into the chest of drawers where Talia pulled her gun from. Evidently I threw him with a large amount force, more so than I thought at least, as he smashes the chest to pieces whilst being rendered unconscious.
A quick inspection of the wound allows me to see how deep the cut is. Amazingly, he was able to cut through the bat symbol on my chest with ease as if it were nothing. Thank goodness it’s the most reinforced part of my whole suit or he’d have done a tremendous amount of damage. This, this is just a flesh wound. It’ll heal in a month…..assuming I’m still here in a month’s time.
Talia takes a moment to inspect the wound and panics when she sees blood coming out of the opening in my suit. It’s only when I show her the thickness of my armour plating that she calms down…..somewhat. It doesn’t stop her from slowly walking over to the unconscious assailant and putting her gun to his head.
”It’s over Talia. You don’t need to take his life.”
”If you cut down a tree but leave the roots, it will grow back eventually. If we leave him alive he’ll come be back and he won’t be al…”
As she stutters Talia loses her balance. Clearly the painkiller is starting to wear off and the pain is coming back to her. Sadly, I’m somewhat relieved by this as horrible as it sounds, because it stops Talia from taking another life. Though at the same time this does worry me. I expected that the painkiller would give her body time to heal using the residual Lazarus in her body. The fact that her body doesn’t appear to have healed itself at all is…. interesting…. though I doubt she’d agree with me on that remark.
For a moment it looks like she’s able to overcome the sudden rush of pain, but then almost immediately after it looks like she’s regained her composure she stumbles. Before she has a chance to collapse I race to her side and help support her.
”The painkiller is wearing off. I need to get you back to the cave so we can remove the bullet.”
”So I’m finally going to meet the infamous….Alfred…..Pennyworth….after all this time.”
Despite the situation I can’t help but crack a smile for Talia. Both to put her at ease and also knowing that at long last, she gets to meet Alfred. It doesn’t sound like a major thing, but after how much I talked about him during my time with the League, Talia’s been desperate to meet him if only to know who was the poor man that had to put with raising me for all those years.
”You are Talia. You are.”
I’m not going to lose you Talia. Ra’s may have stolen the son I never knew I had, but I’m not going to let him take you away from me again.
A little Melospiza melodia lol (Song Sparrow) I saw yesterday ;) Looks like she's sittin on top of the world..Enjoying Canada Day and the seeds from this bush..............
"A rich, russet-and-gray bird with bold streaks down its white chest, the Song Sparrow is one of the most familiar North American sparrows. Don’t let the bewildering variety of regional differences this bird shows across North America deter you: it’s one of the first species you should suspect if you see a streaky sparrow in an open, shrubby, or wet area. If it perches on a low shrub, leans back, and sings a stuttering, clattering song, so much the better."
Enjoy! Best viewed LARGE.
2020 Elf Off the Shelf
December 4, 2020
9/31
Frodo and Maurice turn around, and standing at the end of the platform appeared to be a station manager. He appeared out of nowhere. So did the passenger train! The two travelers had their back to the rails that they hadn’t seen or heard the train roll quietly in.
“W-we were l-looking for the sch-schedule of arrivals and d-departures from this station,” Frodo hesitantly replies in a stuttered sort of way.
“We’re here now,” the man gruffly answered. “Now, do you have your ticket? Or do I have to sell you one on the train? You can’t ride for free, you know.”
Maurice stepped up and countered, “Sir, I have the money for my ticket, but I won’t have any leftover for my second-cousin-twice-removed.” Maurice touched Frodo’s shoulder and tells him sadly, “I wish we could continue together, but I don’t think that’s possible. Will you forgive me for not being able to take you along?”
Frodo turns and faces Maurice with slightly tearful eyes. “I understand. There are many times people make trips to a distance place, wanting to take family and friends with them, but they are the ones who must make the journey alone. Of course, I forgive you, but will you remember to do me a favor?”
“Anything!” Maurice replied quickly. “What is it you need?” Maurice had no idea if he could even deliver on this promise, and inside he wondered if he should have even offered in the first place.
“Could you please bring back warmth and peace here to Middle Earth? Ever since the scourge hit, everyone has been on edge and agitated. We face a common, unseen enemy, but we don’t know how best to confine that enemy to a cave and shut him in. Perhaps you can find a way and help us.” Frodo stood still for a moment, then stretched out his arms to give Maurice a big hug. Hobbits love to give hugs, when appropriate.
Maurice was taken aback by Frodo’s desire, but knew he could help. Maurice was heading to the North Pole, and soon Christmas will arrive. Will he know Santa well enough to ask him about this request? He could only hope.
20201204 339/366
The wall did not ask to be read.
It asked to be bled into.
Every line is a scar rehearsing its own disappearance,
every curve a stutter in the syntax of obedience.
This is not writing; this is pressure escaping flesh disguised as concrete.
The city exhales through vandalized throats,
through sprayed vowels and amputated consonants.
Meaning collapses here,
not from chaos,
but from excess of control.
These signs were never meant to say.
They were meant to interrupt.
A broken alphabet chewing on surveillance,
a dialect born where cameras blink too slowly.
The wall remembers what the archive deletes:
the tremor before submission,
the itch before silence becomes law.
Night rewrites the grammar.
Light fractures into permission and threat.
Smoke becomes a temporary god,
curling around the wound to keep it open.
This corridor is a throat.
This graffiti, a cough that refuses diagnosis.
Here, language is no longer a tool; it is a symptom.
And somewhere beneath the paint,
beneath the gesture,
beneath the fear of being seen,
the city confesses:
it was never mute; it was strangled.
Is anyone else totally fed up of all the porn spam that is going on right now? Endless 'Likes' on hundreds of my photos by 'young girls' - and it won't stop when you go to their Flickr page, click on About and block them. Blocking them does not work! Plenty of Flickr members are posting complaints on the help forum, but, so far, I haven't seen any response from Flickr staff.
Yesterday, I finally swapped one stressor for another - just crazy. I had been told to try out the replacement Nikon B700 while I was on my two-week trip. Part way through the trip, I gave up - so many of my photos were being ruined because of the shift in composition when I pressed the shutter button all the way down. These images jumped upwards, down or to either side, resulting in headless or half birds, etc.. I had taken three cameras with me - my old, trustworthy Panasonic FZ200 (which unfortunately only has 24x optical zoom); my FZ1000 (a brand new replacement that I received just days before I left the city, which, to my horror, I discovered had the same problem as the original - skipping photos while in Playback), and the Nikon B700. Much as I wanted/needed the 60x optical zoom of the B700, it was just not useable. So, yesterday, I returned it to the store and got a refund. Now I am back to using my old Canon SX60, which I was using just occasionally, and had put aside many months ago, as I find the image stabilization becomes so bad when more zoom is used.
The new stressor started yesterday, when I noticed a large brown stain on my dining room ceiling! A while ago, I had had two new toilets installed, and I discovered that the upstairs one has been leaking. I always turn off the water in my place when I go away, thank goodness, but now I will have to call the plumber and get him to come and take a look. My ceiling looks a mess!
The day before yesterday, 3 June 2018, I had hoped to drive out of the city for an annual morning walk followed by a delicious BBQ lunch. Unfortunately, I never heard back from the leader about whether any others would be going from Calgary (though I was going to drive there myself). As it turned out, I had a great afternoon within the city, with an afternoon walk in Weaselhead with friends, during which we found a Rufous and a Calliope Hummingbird. This long walk was followed by coffee and chat at Tim Horton's, which is always much enjoyed. Thanks, as always, Janet and Bernie!
On my drive home early evening, I made a split second decision to keep driving to Fish Creek Park. I had only been down there twice this year and saw the adult male Great Horned Owl. I had heard that the female was on the nest and later, that there was just one owlet. Yesterday was my first visit to try and find this young one, who had only just recently left the nest. Looking on the more important side, this meant one less person intruding on their area, of course, though I have to say that these owls are remarkably tolerant of humans. If a Canada Goose, on the other hand, should get anywhere near the nest or young ones, Mom or Dad flies in for an immediate attack. I think it would have taken me some time to find it, as it was so high up in a tree. Friends had already found it and were kind enough to take me to see it, which was much appreciated. They also showed me a very high Starling nest with three youngsters peering out. A tree cavity was also pointed out to me, with Mother Goose looking rather bored, incubating her eggs.
"With its long, earlike tufts, intimidating yellow-eyed stare, and deep hooting voice, the Great Horned Owl is the quintessential owl of storybooks. This powerful predator can take down birds and mammals even larger than itself, but it also dines on daintier fare such as tiny scorpions, mice, and frogs. It’s one of the most common owls in North America, equally at home in deserts, wetlands, forests, grasslands, backyards, cities, and almost any other semi-open habitat between the Arctic and the tropics.
Great Horned Owls are nocturnal. You may see them at dusk sitting on fence posts or tree limbs at the edges of open areas, or flying across roads or fields with stiff, deep beats of their rounded wings. Their call is a deep, stuttering series of four to five hoots." From AllAboutBirds.
Alley Boys, "Free At Last" - Chicago 2015 - Stutters enjoying his freedom after spending 11 days in Cook County Jail. www.chuckjines.com/
"The gentleman caller in the blue suede shoes
He don't know what to do
He just wants to look good for you
So he rushes in to tell you what he did today
But he can't think of what to say
I think you listen anyway
He wants to have a good time just like everybody
He doesn't want to fall apart
You watch him as he stutters over what to say
It's just a little game you play
It's no easier for you some days
You wish that you could tell him it'll be okay
But you feel a little shy these days
Cause everybody goes away"
Washpool National Park, New South Wales.
For use of this photo please contact clancywildlife@gmail.com
...Henricus, The so called Papa (and more) had been captures, first he was stripped of any of his bourgeoisie adornments of gilded jewelry and his priestly papal crown... all while dirty working class workers and peasants screamed nasty words like: strip the upperclass pig from all his riches and then his pride...
or:
Ha, ha, is this the one that once was King, then self proclaimed religious leader, he looks so small not a king at all...
Some spat at him and other threw dirt an faeces at him...
then later on they brought him to the Tree-dungeon for "special interrogation"
Here a blond stutterer with a really friendly face greeted him:
H-h-h-hey Mr. H-H-Henricus, or should I call you pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-p-p-p-paa?
I I I I I have just arrived ba-b-ba-ba-ck f-f-f-f-f-rom a study abroad, I was in la-la-la-la-tin a-a-a-a-merica and studi-st-st-studied Mental torture and interrogation techniques with the gue-guer-guer-il-il-illa, They though me th-th-thi-thi-this technique, Thay callled it bashing the Cat or pinjata, bu-b-bu-b-bu-but I ha-ha-have renamed it bashing the capitalist pig!
The Forestmen was the only part of the alliance that hadn´t signed the queens legal document banning all for of torture...
The king screamed, I need something to drink!!! have mercy I was once your ally against the hordes of the barbarians!
one nice Wolf-pack soldier had some mercy and came with a goblet filled with crystal clear water... the king gulped down all in one go!!!
No it was water, You fool, that was water, then he had a fit and passed out...
The friendly looking Dungeon-torture-master looked really, sad, he had already handed out canes...
then he said: we-we-well, I guess we ha-ha-have to wait until he wakes up again!
You know what’s really getting me down about all of this? It’s knowing that a used to wade through much thicker sh*te and a did it all without a second thought. Now, am no saying that my teenage years were the roughest or the toughest going. I didn’t live in no ‘hood or nothing like that, but it had it’s moments, ken?
A mind one night I was out at ma mates flat. His Mum and Dad were away and he was having the obligatory house party that came with an empty parental home. It was a cracking night, all strobe lights, flying cats, heavy metal and a beer or two too many. We all bonded that night the way only teenagers can, the alcohol blowing away aw the cool poses and the nervy stutters. Every bugger was aw hugs and ‘a love you’s’. A will happily say that a got my fair share of ‘you know Gav, yer no such a geek after all’. Fair chuffed, so a was.
I got a bit giddy on all the newfound popularity and lost track of maself, time and if I’m honest, reality in general. It must have been about 5am when it was decided that the party required new fuel. By this stage I should say that the party consisted of me, my three best mates (Antny, Kenny Mooney and Platt) and a load of sleeping lads and lassies. Now, if I drank as much as I did then and stayed up that late now, Jesus, I dinnae ken what would happen but it would assuredly not have a happy ending.
Regardless, my younger self was a hardier, more energetic beast, which is a big part of my ongoing travails if you follow ma drift. So, me and ma pals unperturbed by the lateness of the hour stepped out of the flat in search of adventure and munchies.
Now, bear in mind that at this time, the bonny town of Paisley was the murder capital of Britain. If you were stupit enough to share that it was your hometown with anyone you either got a sh*te joke from them or they wid genuinely back away. What’s more, the area we wur in was one of the hotspots of this rather grizzly activity.
Y’see, there had been some slayings an’ that in the drug world and it had aw got a bit nasty. Now, I have no problem with scum shooting scum if that be the life they choose, but this was bad man, real bad. Dads shot down in front of their wee yins, teenagers caught up wi the wrong role models finding themselves stuck in the jail for deeds they never did and far, far too many eejits were bouncing about the streets high on whatever chemical was in vogue that week.
To be honest, the whole place stank. The atmosphere was tense and edgy as f*ck. What was worse was that all the kickings and the stabbings that were going around spilled into the lives of folks like me and ma pals. We were just stupid wee laddies kicking footballs around and pretending to chase girls. There was f*ck aw in our lives that had prepared us for Chelsea smiles, running street battles and territorial gang b*llocks, but that’s the nonsense that surrounded us and you quickly learnt the language.
Anyway, the four daft amigos stepped out of the relative sanity of the flat and onto the streets. Magic so it was, the world was still asleep and here were we as young as they f*cking come and free as we bloody well liked. That feeling never lasted long though.
We headed for the Garage up the road and that’s when things starting going a bit baws up. We came across three wee guys in the garage forecourt, fourteen years old at the most a reckon. A think they spotted us before we saw them because they were already armed. Empty glass bottles in hand, arms cocked back. A seriously had no clue whit was going on until Platt pushed me out of the way of a flying bottle. It smashed behind me on a wall and, to be blunt, a was too surprised to know whit the f*ck was going on. Antny and Platt were a bit more savvy than me and by the time a had some sort of orientation, they were chasing the wee lads down the street and round the corner.
A set off in hot and drunk pursuit, turning the corner just in time to see Platt, a big fella even then, slamming one of the wee lads into a neat garden hedge and pounding his ribs wi big f*ck off punches. F*ck me, a tell you, that was quite a sight. Ten seconds before I would have given the wee b*gger a kicking myself but with each punch he just seemed to get younger, you know. Platt was oblivious and just kept smacking away, teeth aw gritted, fist sinking in deeper and deeper. In the end we had tae pull him aff, f*ck knows when he would have stopped if we hadn’t. He was going to be hit by some stellar crap in his later life but back then, Platt was a smart, laid back lad, on the outside at the least. I guess like anyone at that age, the surface covers up a very muddled mind.
So, we let the wee guy go and he shot off into the warren of streets to find his mates. You’d think we might take stock and head home wouldn’t ye? But naw, we decided to try the other garage about a mile away. F*ck knows who had that idea but it was up there with their worst.
We were walking up one of the main roads towards the garage when part 2 of the f*cking nightmare came skiting down upon us. A motor flew past us, very much on the wrang side of the road. He clipped the kerb about 100metres from us, spun onto his roof, slid doon the road for about another 50m before hitting the other side of the road, doing an awfy neat flip and landing back on all four wheels. I reckon there was a wee minute of silence from the four of us before we ran down to check if any bugger had survived.
As we got to the car, the driver sprang out jolly as you like.
‘aw right lads’ he shouted ‘do youse wanna see ma swords’
There is no other answer to that question than a polite yes and sure enough, he sprung open his scraped boot and presented to our now very open eyes two pristine samurai swords strapped to his car. Now, there is a lot goin’ on in this story and a would love to explain a little more about what he looked like, what we said and how we were feeling but that would be a distraction cos things were about to turn a whole shade more shit*y.
As our durable companion was talking we heard the roar of a car, a very fast car. He bolted down the street leaving car, swords and the four of us wondering just what we had stepped into. The fast car was now visible and heading straight for us, and when I say straight for us a mean it literally. When it was about 15m from us the driver thumped up onto the pavement and drove his car at us. Two of us dived into bushes, two onto the rather more unforgiving road surface as the mentalist who was driving came all too few metres away from ending our thus far unfulfilled lives. He then clipped the side of the sword mans motor and span off.
Now, the glass bottles was a bit off putting, Platt and his crashing fists a wee bit disturbing, the car crash, well to be honest that was pretty cool but the sword display took us back down in the scary department. But f*ck me, this nutter in his stupid wee Nova just about ran us over, deliberately. He tried to f*cking kill us. Sh*t man a tell you, if we weren’t bonded afore then, we were stuck tight after that. Near death experiences with souped up family cars has that effect on you.
For once in our young lives we were savvy enough to know that heading home was the smart option, and head home we did. Sadly, we did not take into full cognisance the local road layout and as we reached the street where the safety of the party was, who should spin round the corner but Nova man and, as we were soon to find out, his screwdriver wielding mates. Given the lack of success with the mowing us down technique, the bastards went for the good old fashioned chase wi’ knives.
A was fast as f*ck then and was well ahead of the rest but Kenny, ah man, he was no athlete and they got to him. A saw the biggest of them all giving his legs a good kick, sending him face first onto the concrete with a yelp and a thud that proved to be his saving. The group seemed so surprised at the level of Kenny’s terror that they stopped, allowing him to get back to his feet and head off once again.
A still have no idea if they were just playing with us, but we were nae stopping to find out. We louped fences, ran through gardens and finally found home. The sleepers were still sleeping, the cat was still angry but we were stone cold sober.
The thing is, looking back, a wis bothered, but nae that bothered. A had kind of assumed I would get away, A had definitely assumed that this was whit happened on a night out, A assumed that it was alright to think of all of that as a bloody good story to tell. F*cking respect wee Gav. Those were the start of my party days and a had fights, a hud knifes put to my stomach, chest and face, a put in a marathons worth of running and fleeing from the neds and for a while, and of this I say with no pride, a carried ma own knife. Just for protection like.
Still, through aw of that and aw the sh*te that went down, what a really remember is the blazing hot summers on the pitches and the crammed dark nights down in the pub. A remember Oasis at loch Lomond and ma first T in the Park. A remember first kisses and aw the rest. A remember failing exams, scraping into university and dropping straight back out again, but most of all, I remember just being solid you know? Jist solid, as if none of the sh*te that was hurtling ma way could ever stop me for long.
Nowadays? Well, look at me man, whit a joke. All it takes is one outstretched leg and am down on that floor for f*cking weeks. Is it jist me, or does that go for everyone? Is there ever gonna be a time when a can stride through aw the muck and mess of this sh*tey wee life and not gie a f*ck? I guess that’s why am boring you with aw these tales and stories, you know? Just trying to find out when it changed, map out aw the mess in me head and see whit it was a left behind that made me change this way.
So, if ye have any thoughts, feel free to share them.
===Arkham Asylum==
There was a blinding yellow light and then, Krill staggered into the room, still reeling from Kuttler's attack. "Cheap shot..." he wheezed, before collapsing onto the floor, a mix of blood and drool dripping out of his mouth.
"Oho, there he is! There's my little bundle of comic relief and profanity!" Joker let out an overjoyed giggle as he rushed to greet him.
"Joker!" Crane snapped impatiently, "He needs medical attention. Now."
"And?" Joker asked disinterestedly. "What do you want me to do about that? Page the Crime Doctor? He blocked me after one too many 'Doctor, Doctor,' jokes, which, in my defense, were absolute killers!"
"No... Doctors... Sugar pills... Top cabinet..." Krill gasped, shrugging Crane off. "I'll be... fine... Just give me someone to kill and... And a banana split... Might... Might also need a rabies shot."
"The Misfitspose aaaaaaaa threat, Joooooooker," Zoom warned, as he watched Krill wolf down his medication.
"Hah! Now there's a sentence that's never been uttered before..." Joker chuckled dismissively. As he attempted to leave the room however, Zoom blocked the doorway.
"No. First theErasaaaaaaaaaser discoveredour lair. Now theyhaveincapacitated theeeeee Pooooolka DotMan. Theymustbe eliminated."
"Now, where's your holiday spirit gone?" Joker looked down at Zoom's hand, and then back at his face, trying to mask his indignation. "All in good time, Hunter," he stated. "I'm in the giving mood right now, and I've promised Julian he'll have his fun with them first."
==Greendale Community College==
The Infirmary
Day 16
Flannegan was lying on a hospital bed, as a nurse doted around him. Sat around him, were Reardon, Rigger, Blake and Chuck, each in varying states of concern.
"Get off! I'm fine, really," he protested, as he pushed the nurse's hand away from his black and blue face. "You shoulda seen the other guy!"
"You mean the one that escaped?" Blake smirked.
"That's not what-" Flannegan spluttered. "Blame the science geek, I had the spotted bastard dead to rights."
"Didn't he drop a microwave on you?" Rigger butted in.
"It was a filing cabinet!"
"Is he going to be alright, miss?" Reardon asked, narrowly dodging a flying fruit cup intended for Joey.
"He took quite a beating, but he'll be fine," the nurse replied. "Just don't use that arm against any more Polka Dot Men for a while," she advised Flannegan with a clear hint of sarcasm.
"He was real!" he protested once more, as he attempted to get out of the hospital bed. His advances were interrupted by a commotion outside, as the voices of Kuttler and the Dean grew louder and louder.
"Noah, please, you can't just leave. Where am I supposed to get another computing studies teacher on such short notice?" Pelton was pleading with him. "You were going to show me how to use Excel!"
"Frankly, that's none of my concern," Kuttler retorted. "Hire Answer, hell: hire Cluemaster for all I care- see if you can piece his skull back together, I imagine it's like a particular irritating jigsaw puzzle... Oh, and check your basement, because there is definitely a sex computer down there. I know that frequency."
"Sex computer?" Pelton's brow furrowed, as he stopped in his tracks. "Wait up-" he began, but Kuttler had already reached the infirmary, and made sure to lock the door behind him. He then approached the Misfits, and placed a small glass bottle, filled with small yellow pills, onto the table beside Flannegan.
"Diaxymine," he stated. "Should cancel out the effects of the Fearless drug on your rotund friend."
"Woah woah woah, that's potent stuff. Who's to say it won't just fry his mind?" Rigger asked anxiously.
"No one, of course, but there was a guard here that stockpiled the stuff," Kuttler deflected. "From what I was able to piece together, he was some kind of supervillian, went by the name 'Chinese Tiger.'"
"We... appreciate the gesture, but if it's all the same to you, I think we'll wait until we're back in Gotham, and cure him then," Chuck spoke, as he slid the glass bottle into his yellow utility belt for safe keeping.
"Fine. Use it or don't," Kuttler shrugged, standing back up. "But when your sauce spraying friend tears your throat out, remember I gave you an out," he replied, as he walked back towards the exit. "I'll see you in the courtyard tomorrow. That is, if the offer still stands."
"It does- I mean, sure, great!" Chuck stuttered, a little taken aback by Kuttler's sudden change of heart. "But... what about that ankle monitor?" he asked, pointing down at Kuttler's feet. "Shouldn't we-?"
"That old thing?" Kuttler looked down, and to The Misfits' surprise, casually unbuckled it and dropped it in the bin. "I reprogrammed that months ago. I just fancied the time off."
"Right, of course you did," Chuck tutted. "What exactly changed your mind?"
Kuttler glanced over at Blake before answering. "Let's just say I had an enlightening talk with one of your teammates," he smirked, before turning back to face them. "Oh, and of course, thanks to you, Abner Krill knows where I am and he'll want revenge: The first thing he'll do once he's healed, will be to sell off my location to the Society remnants I testified against. And frankly, I'm simply too emotionally drained to draft a countermeasure against Bane or his allies... I could do with the meat shields."
"Bane's in Slabside, bud, he's not going anywhere," Blake reassured him.
"The same Slabside that Killer Moth broke into a month ago?" Kuttler spoke, as he raised a condemning eyebrow.
"Ok, fair point," he swallowed.
"Uh-huh. The courtyard. Tomorrow at 12pm. Don't keep me waiting," he ordered them, before leaving the way he came, still swatting away Pelton's advances.
"Well, he seemed lovely," Ten said dryly.
~-~
Gar was slumped against the wall, waiting for Chuck as he exited the infirmary, flicking his lighter on and off obsessively
"You shouldn't smoke indoors," Chuck advised him.
"I wasn't." Gar confessed. "So. Who won? The game, I mean," he clarified.
"Funny you should ask: the Dean called it off. Apparently, some Freddy Krueger lookalike ran onto the campus, and threatened a hundred students with a flamethrower."
"Jeez, what're the chances?" Gar wondered aloud.
"Oh, I dunno... One in a million," Chuck replied, eyeing him up.
Gar paused. "I... might have been projecting my anger onto a bunch of amateur cosplayers.
"Not to worry, we've all been there."
"Still, Krueger. Nice chance of pace. About a dozen students stopped me earlier and said 'Nice Deadpool, bro. Have a chimichanga on me.' Irritating as hell," he frowned. "He gonna be ok?" he changed trajectory.
"Flannegan? He's tough, he'll pull through," Chuck reiterated.
"Not who I meant," Gar spoke, as he watched Mayo shuffle past them into the infirmary, a bunch of crumpled flowers in his hand, no doubt a last minute gift, hand-picked from the gardens.
"Yeah," Chuck replied. "We'll get him cured once we're back in Gotham. If we ever make it..." he added tiredly.
"We will. Drury has a plan, I know it," Gar vouched for him. "But it's weird, right? I mean, you and I both know what Fearless can do to a person; the chaos, the anger, the devastation... it turned you into a reckless thrill-seeker, submerged Two-Face's better half and it barely even worked on Dekker. Kid could've killed us all if he wanted to, or at least try. Yet even with that crap pumping through his veins; nothing holding him back; free to do anything, say anything without consequence, all Mayo really wanted, was to win a damn paintball game. just gain a little bit- a tiny sliver of recognition from his peers."
Chuck reflected on this, and pulled the glass bottle of Diaxymine out of his belt to examine it.
"What's the stuff Kuttler gave you anyway?" Gar inquired.
"Supposed to be Anti-Psychotics," Chuck explained.
"'Supposed to be,'" Gar rolled his eyes. "Between you and me, I'm pretty sick of experimental drugs."
"Boy, I hear you there..." he chuckled softly. "Listen, Gar-"
"What?" he snapped suddenly.
"Just... I'm sorry about Jenna."
Gar's features softened, as he flicked his lighter shut. "Me too."
==Study Room F==
Day 17
"So, this is what you wear for a living, huh?" Jeff raised an eyebrow at both Blake and Chuck's suits.
"I don't know, you fill that costume out nicely," Britta smiled.
"I made you boys sandwiches for the journey home," Shirley said, offering Chuck an enormous bag of filled sandwiches. Though unlikely to eat them himself, due to the high fat content, Chuck felt it best not to tell her, and instead thanked Shirley politely.
Chuck hugged the girls, shook Jeff's hand and patted Troy and Abed on the back. "Pierce," he nodded. "It has been an experience."
"Urgh, I'm always getting shafted," he grumbled. "But not as much as Jeff in gay bars," he chuckled.
"Dude, read the room," Blake shook his head disapprovingly.
Chuck looked over at the Misfits' table, where Mayo had been silently drawing for a while, and took a deep breath. "Hey, buddy," he approached, examining each of his sketches. "Who's this guy?"
"Malcolm Fleming. He's a cucumber," Mayo sniffed.
"And this one, that his friend?" Chuck pointed to the second figure.
"Stephen Tucker. A gherkin."
Chuck smiled, as he reached into his rucksack and handed Mayo a large parcel. "Here. I want you to have this. I know it's not perfect. Dekker, for all his quirks, knows how to make a suit much better than I ever could, but I made I do."
"I don't understand. You're not mad?" he asked, puzzled.
"It's paintball, Mitch," Chuck winked. "No one got hurt. That's the main thing."
"Flannegan might disagree there-" Blake calmly pointed out.
"Most people didn't get hurt, Chuck corrected himself, shooting daggers Blake's way. "Thing is, you're one of us. A Misfit, Mitch. It's time we treated you like one."
"Thank you," Mitch nodded sincerely, as he pulled the black and red costume from out of the bag. "I love it."
"What about it, Jeff? A final rousing speech?" Abed asked.
Jeff smirked. "Actually, Abed, I think Chuck should do the honours."
"Actually, we really have to go," Chuck began, as he rose to his feet. "Kuttler would kill us if we're late. Literally, probably... Look, they're your people, Jeff. Look after them, love them. Care for them. Because remember, they may all be misfits, but together, you're all so much stronger."
"Well, I don't know if I'd class myself as a misfit-" Britta began, her protests drowned out by the Study Group's collective groans.
"Then find another name," Chuck encouraged them. "But find it together. Because, uh, because that one's already taken- branding was always Drury's thing."
"Ooh, actually have a couple ideas in mind." Annie said, as she pulled out a massive binder. Jeff looked up at Chuck, and smiled gratefully. Chuck nodded back and rested his hand on the door handle. 'Hell Yeah.'
"Oh, before I forget- in two or three days, you might be emailed a YouTube link from a Montgomery Sharpe. Don't open it," he added.
As Chuck left, Troy turned back to the rest of the group. "Do any of you guys know who that is?"
~-~
"Drury, you're always gonna do something stupid... That's why I love you. We'll win. We always do, you old softie. Because we don't-?"
Because we don't give up. Yeah. Someday. Because of you.."
"You're just tired Drury, that's all. Just tired."
"To doing something stupid," Drury lamented.
"You were flashing back, weren't you?"
"I'm sorry?" Drury asked, turning his head away from the trophy cabinet.
Abed shrugged. "Just now. It looked like you were having a flashback to something."
Walker smiled weakly. "Yeah, yeah. something like that."
"I'm Abed," he said, offering him his hand.
"Drury," Walker nodded as he shook his hand.
"Yo, Abed, could you give us some space please?" Chuck asked.
"Cool," he replied, as he disappeared down the hall. "Cool cool cool."
"Kuttler's on board," Chuck revealed. "He'll want to be paid obviously, but I think we can probably pull enough money together, right?"
"Yeah, Joe texted me," he nodded. "What happened to you anyway?" Drury asked, eying Chuck's shattered visor suspiciously, "I thought it was just a paintball game."
"Oh, I died," Chuck said bashfully. "Well, I should've. Mitch used condiments, so it didn't technically count."
"Ah. Typical, really," Drury winked. He looked down at his watch.
"C'mon, we shouldn't keep the others waiting," he said, glancing at the otherwise empty, paint soaked hallway.
"Sure," Drury lay his hand on the trophy cabinet and smiled faintly, gesturing to a framed photo. "Here, take a look at this, please: Gotham University, interschool basketball championships 2001, I actually competed in that- I'm the scrawny kid with the broken leg, see? And, sure, the Mathletes lost, but that's life, ain't it?"
"Yeah..." Chuck smiled encouragingly.
"And there, in the opposing team's photo... There she is. My Tiger Lily. Funny coincidence, right?" Drury, was pointing to a blond girl in the back. "Didn't even know she existed. Imagine."
"I guess," Chuck nodded.
"Just like that time in Gaige's office, or that Janus Christmas party... I missed out on several more happy years because... because I didn't know what was right in front of me."
Chuck bowed his head. "I never believed in all that star-crossed, meant-to-be kind of love myself. First Maria, then Pam. But you and Miranda? I think that maybe, maybe that was the closest thing to it. And, I dunno, maybe the universe knew that too. You look at these photos and you see it as a missed opportunity, sure. But I see it as a gift. You got to know that the two of you had more time together than even you knew."
"Maybe," Drury said softly, his eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you."
"Any time," Chuck replied, before changing the subject back to the here and now. "I finally read those files by the way. The ones we stole from Batman. You know what that Zolomon guy can do, right? He's not just fast, he slows down time. And it's not just him, I mean look at the Pirate, or Pike. I mean, we joke, but Carson beat the crap out of us last time. And seeing what Krill of all people did to Flannegan... Even with Kuttler backing us, I just don't know." Chuck nodded solemnly. "Like, you do realise that we can't just drive back into Gotham in a highly conspicuous Bat-Truck? The Bats will be on us before we even reach city limits."
"I know," Drury responded. "I know. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have a plan, Chuck. Maybe not a good one, definitely not a popular one, but I do have one. It's just... You're not gonna like it."
"Well, that's a first," Chuck joked.
"Hah. Stick to the herbal tea, Chuck," Drury smiled back. "Let someone else handle the sarcasm."
~-~
"God, that was the longest six months of my life," Flannegan declared, as he stretched his back out, the rest of the Misfits following closely behind him.
"We were there three weeks, tops," Rigger pointed out.
"I know what I said," Flannegan replied stiffly.
As they walked out to the courtyard, Blake and Joey jumped back in fright, Gar and Flannegan drew their weapons, Kuttler ducked behind Walker and Reardon took a deep breath.
Waiting for them outside, flanked by some twenty armed men, was The Great White Shark. Behind him, the Bookworm nodded to Walker affirmatively.
"Look, boys. Hitchhikers," White joked. "A little bug told me you lot needed a lift."
"Uh, Drury?" Chuck asked, awaiting an explanation.
"I mean, I said you wouldn't like it."
==Gotham City==
Hellhound exited the Stacked Deck through the back alley and smiled, riffling through a stack of newly acquired green bills. All in a day's work... Dekker would take his cut, of course: but there was no need to split it evenly. After all, he was the one doing all the work. A trash can toppled over behind him, and he spun around. "Who's there?" he called out to the dark, reaching for the knife in his pocket.
"Your worst nightmares. Your nastiest dreams," a raspy voice hissed.
Hellhound stumbled back in fright, tripping over an empty tin of cat food. "Hey, no hard feelings, man," he insisted. "I didn't actually believe in any of that crap: It was just a trick, a con, a dirty grift! I didn't actually do anything: that thing, with the knife and the fat guy? That was all the Misfits, I swear!"
"I believe you," the King of Cats agreed, as he bent down, and licked his face. "Good doggy."
"Ahem," a second voice called out. "Sorry to intrude upon this, ah, tender moment, but my partners have a proposal for you."
"Ah, the clever-clogs," the King recognised Day. "How did you find us?"
"I followed the smell," Day said stiffly.
"Oho," The King laughed. "Clever!"
"You've taken a new form, I see," Day noted. "Which poor unfortunate host is it this time?"
"A City Counsellor from Hub City. A frequent adulterer not worth your pity," the King giggled maliciously, the moonlight glinting off of his leather catsuit.
"Curious. But what if I told you that we could do better? Restore you to your former glory: So to speak."
"I'm listening," the King replied, his green eyes narrowing. "But if you don't mind, first, I'd like to finish my supper," he announced, gesturing to Hellhound's incapacitated body.
Julian's skin crawled. He despised being the middle man between the clown and these... creeps. "Do what you have to. Just don't make a mess."
"Clever Clogs, please," the King scowled. "I make no such promises."
graveyard austerity
a stuttering contempt unfolds in some
but others blinded by attempts at reason
deny the discontent and bleak horizons pending
sustainable or not it will unfold
the damage done in years to to come
with futures wrapped uneasy
round a knife thats steadied by a clumsy hand
intent on slicing through the fabric
misguided in intentions deep and cutting
too much that is good consigned to earth
—Holiday barista so busy, he's trained to be in more than one place at a time.
—Or: Let's see what happens if we try that panorama setting....
Location: Starbucks, 4601 Wyoming Blvd NE just north of Montgomery Blvd NE, Albuquerque, New Mexico 5:00pm
Army Rangers log
We got a call to go assist some shock troopers with their wounded when we got to their position I realized who was wounded a younger soldier wearing Army ranger gear was lying on the ground his arm lying not to far away blood every were. Speedy I screamed as I threw down my M60 and sprinted towards him and the shock troopers, Boonie was right be hind me. HeY BoSs he stuttered and then fell unconscious..........
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The last of this mini series
Super Natural British Columbia is our province's slogan. My husband and I took the ferry to Powell River earlier this week, and this is pretty much the view the whole way...nothing but trees and mountains and sparkling blue water. Not too shabby.
I had a couple of misadventures in PR practically the minute I stepped off the ferry. First we went to the bike shop so Dal could pick up a bike he'd had fixed. He saw a secondhand bike in the shop for a great price, so he bought it for me for my birthday that's coming up. While he was talking "bike talk" with the shop owner, I got the dogs out of the van and walked with them on a strip of mown grass along the highway. I saw an attractive bunch of daffodils growing and was busy contorting myself into a position to take a picture when I saw a woman barreling towards me. I snapped the picture just as she called out, quite nastily, that I was on private property. She had crossed about an acre and a half of land in order to tell me this and she must've set out the second she saw us because we'd only been there a couple of minutes. I stuttered an apology and told her I thought the property was part of the bike shop. "I hate dogs!" she informed me. Stunned, I asked her to repeat what she'd said, which she gladly did. And so forth and so on...let's just say she was not a happy camper. But I hope she was happy with the $500 or so that my husband spent in their store!
We then had lunch in the cafe next door. After lunch I went in search of a bathroom. One door was marked "Staff Bathroom" and it was occupied. I opened an unmarked door and got a view of a man sitting on a toilet, his face in his hands. Again, I found myself apologizing and stumbling backwards.
I think there might be a ban on me entering Powell River now!
"-Now the first inmate of the newly reopened Arkham Asylum, Jonathan Crane, alias The Scarecrow was apprehended by the GCPD in the early hours of the morning. His accomplice, Otis Flannegan, alias The Ratcatcher, was discovered badly injured beneath the Cobblepot Subway lines, with enough evidence to tie both himself and Crane to the string of childnappings across the city. Though the current whereabouts of these children are unknown, Commissioner Gordon promises that he'll utilise every method at his disposal to get answers from the perpetrators and return the children safely to their families."
"Kidnapping children, now, Leonard... Is there no low these monsters won't fall?" Walker mused to his associates. Fiasco nodded half heartedly. In another corner of the room, Paul Dekker lowered his paint brush, and raised a bony thumb in agreement. Drake scoffed. "Drubert, you have no idea. Back in my day, Supervillainy was an art form. Flashy costumes, dazzling charisma, stage presence unlike anything you'd have ever seen! These days it's all grime and filth. What was that assassin's gimmick?"
"Mr Lawton? I tried reaching out, but-"
"Guns!" Drake bellowed. "What kind of motif is there to be had with shallow gunplay? If the Injustice Society had ever-"
"You were in the Injustice Society, were you, Morty? Dekker interrupted, applying a fine brush stroke to his painting. "You've never said..." he murmured sarcastically.
Drake looked down at him, adjusted his hat, then stormed back upstairs.
"In other news, Wayne Enterprises Chairman Lucius Fox has announced that himself and Wayne Heir Bruce Wayne will be travelling to Paris this week, for their annual shareholders meeting. Wayne stock has gone up two percent since-"
"Wayne..." Fiasco muttered bitterly. "Bruce stinkin' Wayne."
Drury turned to him curiously. "Do... You want an autograph? You know, I *am* on the museum board, I could-"
...
"No, Dru," he sighed. "It's dumb, it's childish. But back in school, there was this girl I liked. Celia Smith. Big brown eyes, blonde curls, and everything. I wasn't an ugly kid, alrigh', but... Well, you try getting her attention when you share a classroom with Bruce freakin' Wayne. Didn't stop me trying, mind, but you see, I wasn't the brightest kid neither. Always rubbing out mistakes. "Ooh, look at the Eraser," they said, I wouldn't have had that problem if I just used fuckin' white-out, I guess. But the name stuck, and the next thing I knew Celia's going off to the Ice Carnival with Wayne. I knew, that if I hadn't been in detention that day, I could've asked her! Detention, all because of my stupid mistakes... Do you think, boss, that he actually saw a future with her? Because I don't. You see all those models he goes out with? You think he sees any kind of future with *them*? He just doesn't care, boss, didn't care about Celia, didn't care about me. I just wish she knew that I did, ok? I cared."
"Leonard-"
"Look, drop it. What's done is done."
Walker nods. "Of course. I meant no disrespect."
Fiasco sighs. "I know. I know, I get it," wandering off. Drury turns back to Dekker, proudly showing off his self portrait. His skin was green, and his moustache was blue, but the likeness was good enough, Drury thought to himself.
===Keystone City, 10:53 AM===
The next day, Drury Walker took a bus to Keystone City. He got a few odd looks, but he could manage that. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugged on his collar, and adjusted his tie. She was gonna love this. Four hours later, he got off the bus, and walked the rest of the way. It was liberating in it's own way. No Fiasco or Dekker, no need to pretend, no need for the accent or the fancy words. He could just be there. With her. He places his hand on the fence, smiling. An actual, white picket fence- a rarity. A sign that today, today was going to be a great day.
"Drury, is that you?"
"Hi Lou," Walker smiles, as he leads a pony into the garden. Upon seeing him, his daughter runs to him, landing in his arms at the speed of a truck.
"Daddy! You're back!" she grins, planting kiss upon kiss on his face, trapping him in her arms.
"Of course I am, kitten! Couldn't forget about you, now could I? I brought you someone-"
She sees it, and squeals in delight. "A pony?!"
"He's called Othello, and he's yours on one condition-"
"Ahem." Katie's foster mom stands in the doorway, a coat over her dressing gown. "Drury. A word."
Walker nods, and places his hand on Katie's shoulder "I'll be right back."
===The kitchen===
Alison hands Drury the pot of sugar, and he proceeds to empty five cubes into his tea. She rubs her face, keeping a close eye on her husband, Lewis, trying to saddle Katie up on the pony.
"A pony Drury, really?"
Walker stares at the table, avoiding eye contact, stirring the cup. "It's her birthday..."
'No, her birthday is on the sixteenth."
Walker- Well, a little early but-
Ally- Of June.
...
She takes the pot and places it back in the cupboard, sighing. "Where did you get it? Is it stolen?"
Walker stutters. "No, Ally, it's not like that, I- Morty gave it to me."
She chokes on her tea. "Morty.... Morty... Oh my god, that was *you*! You broke him out! That's why the fucking accent's back!"
"I just- He's practically family-," he starts.
Ally- I knew, I knew it! You said you were gonna change, get out of prison, and *change*!
Walker mumbles something as he stirs his tea with a chocolate finger. "She's my kid, I just... I just wanted to impress her."
"Oh, I'm sure she's very impressed! Her dad robbed six banks and burst open a prison!"
Walker places his tea on the table and rubs his eyes.
...
"Gar's dead."
====Gotham City, 16:05====
Fiaco looked out his apartment window. Every morning, he'd wake up and the first thing he'd see was Wayne Tower staring back at him. At night, he'd struggle to sleep, it's neon lettering mocking him, every hour of the day. It was funny, most people would kill for a view like that. He'd settle for anywhere else. There was a knocking at the door, Walker, if the rhythmic pattern was any indication. Just what he needed. After they lost Lynns, he'd gotten more reserved, less, well, camp, but he still, at the end of the day, dressed like a flamboyant insect... He always dreaded their chats.
Walker smiled, handing him a bright package, held inside a scrubby looking plastic bag.
"Here," he began, bags under his eyes. "After you told me about what happened between you and Miss Smith, I couldn't help but ask for Dekker's expertise. Open it."
"I told you to drop it, it's fine," Fiasco mumbled as he undid the string binding it together.
"No. No it's not. Bruce Wayne took that young lady from you. What might have been a wonderful relationship never was, and Miss Smith was used like Playboys always use beautiful women, as a plaything for the night-"
"We were sixte-"
"And you, were cast to the wayside, taunted for your mistakes. *Sigh* I've been where you were, Leonard. Mocked. Derided. I know what that can to do to a person. This suit, will begin to set things right. Please, just give it a chance."
Len looked down at the yellow and black suit jacket, silently staring for several minutes. "I- It's beautiful."
Today's been pretty ace so far! For one thing it's Thursday, which for me is like Friday in terms of school, and I have a four day weekend up ahead :D
I also had to give a short presentation and instead of being the stuttering, sweaty mess I normally am, I managed to hold it together and get an A! Woohoo!!
On the way home we drive across Jordan Lake, and today it was absoluuuutely covered in fog, something we don't get to see very often around here. When it snowed last week it also completely froze over, and I have some photos I've yet to edit from that. That'll be a weekend project! Really though, you could walk across the lake, which is insane for central NC.
In general, it feels good to be up and about again with a structured schedule, working on assignments and achieving things on the regular. As awesome as it is having nothing but free time, eventually you get into a lazy slump out of which it's hard to crawl. Three cheers to productivity :P
Hope everyone's started the year off well so far!! xxx
Greater Prairie-Chicken (Tympanuchus cupido)
This beautiful bird in on the 2014 State of the Birds Watch List, which lists bird species that are at risk of becoming threatened or endangered without conservation action.
A grouse of open grassland, the Greater Prairie-Chicken is known for its mating dance. Males display together in a communal lek, where they raise ear-like feathers above their heads, inflate orange sacs on the sides of their throats, and stutter-step around while making a deep hooting moan.
WARNING: THIS SERIES FEATURES DARK THEMES SUCH AS ALCOHOL, RAPE, DRUGS AND VIOLENCE. WHILE THESE TOPICS MAY OR MAY NOT BE IN THIS PARTICULAR ISSUE, THE SERIES IS MORE ENJOYABLE IF READ BEGINNING TO FINISH, SO IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE READING ABOUT THESE TOPICS, THIS IS NOT THE SERIES FOR YOU
Speeding past a receptionist, Dorothy Walker waltzed into her daughter’s hospital room. She sprinted straight to the bed Trish was lying atop, immediately giving her a hug.
Trish: H-… Hey, mom…
Trish said over her mother’s shoulder, stuttering as caught off guard by her mother’s sudden appearance.
Dorothy: I’m so glad that you’re okay, you nearly gave me a heart-attack!
Dorothy announced while stepping away from the warm embrace. Now standing farther back, she took notice of the plastic vase with a pink tulip and a rose sitting beside Trish. The shadow of the rose was cast across Trish’s shoulder.
Dorothy: Who got you these?
Trish: Jess. I don’t think she paid for it, she was probably re-gifting.
Dorothy: That’s in-character. Well, I also got you some things…
Dorothy reached into her purse, and out of it pulled out a plastic bag, placing it beside Trish. Trish rummaged through it, finding several comic books reading “Patsy Walker” or “Patsy and Hedy” on each of the covers.
Dorothy: I brought you more unfinished Patsy issues so you can proofread them for accuracy.
Trish: Gee, thanks…
She rolled her eyes while giving her sarcastic reply. Trish didn’t care much for these comics, Dorothy started the line to get Trish more publicity, which is something Dorothy is always doing. Always trying to make her daughter a household name, getting Trish things like her podcast, the TV series Trish was the star of as a child, or the previously mentioned comics.
Trish: Did you bring any of my scripts?
Dorothy: Oh, please, you’re not fit to host a podcast, look at yourself. Hedy’s filling in for you until you’re out of the hospital.
Trish: Mom, I got stabbed in the stomach, that doesn’t make me unfit to talk into a mic.
Dorothy: You have bandages around your head, how do I know you didn’t get a concussion?
Trish: I hit my head on a brick wall when I fell, but it barely hurt. I’m fine, trust me.
Dorothy: How many fingers am I holding up?
She faced her palm towards Trish, all 5 fingers pointing upward.
Trish: 5.
Dorothy: The correct answer was 4, thumbs aren’t fingers.
Trish: Whatever..! Forgetting thumbs aren’t fingers doesn’t mean I’m unfit to host Trish Talk, I’m still going to.
Dorothy: No, you’re not.
Trish: Mom, please, I have to-
Dorothy: Nah-ah-ah! Mother knows best.
Trish: Ugh, fine!
Dorothy: I’ll be back on Friday, then I’ll reevaluate whether or not you’re able to come back to hosting.
Dorothy slowly walked backwards toward the door.
Trish: Okay, bye.
Dorothy: Bye, love you.
Dorothy stood in the doorway for a second…
Dorothy: I’m waiting.
Trish: …Love you too.
Dorothy: There it is..!
Dorothy left the room, smiling, before shutting the door behind herself. Before the door was shut, Trish saw what she swore to be a large yellow wheel of some kind being driven by a man wearing green across the road.
Trish: ...The f#ck..?
~Madam Web
"Oh, hey L-ana. What's up? I thought you wanted space?" I ask, slightly stuttering my words throughout. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Teresa's friends helping her up, making their way towards the bathroom. I open the nearby sliding door, and take a few steps out onto the balcony, with Lana following behind me. She suddenly stops, which causes me to almost slip when I turn around. Luckily, I'm able to catch myself before anything embarrassing happens.
"I thought that was what I needed Peter. Time to figure everything out. You left without so much as a goodbye.. I know you were probably off saving the world or something. But it just really hurt! I was alone, once again. Cheyenne left town, and Harry, well, did his best to move on. With everything that I've gone through with my shitty excuse of a mother, I didn't want to be left by myself again. And yet, I was alone. Alone to face the fact that my mother's now out there out of prison, raising hell, with no one to talk to about it. I mean sure, there's school councilors.. But they just don't get it, in the same way that you do. You see the best in people, even when they don't necessarily deserve it. I sure as hell didn't.. For everything I've done in my past as Bombshell. But you saw past it. You're the reason I was able to make it through that first day at Midtown, and the many days after it. I've come to realize that it hurts more not having you in my life. Talking about the silliest of things, like Sparkles, and other bizarre people you encounter. I miss it all."
"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't like it if you called him that to his face." I say, trying to lighten the mood, before continuing on with my train of thought. "I'm sorry Lana. I honestly am. If I could've said goodbye before leaving for two months, I would've. One minute I was on the subway, and the next I was somewhere else. Which is where I learned about the Spider-Verse. Thousands of different earths, all with their own Spider person. It all probably sounds like gibberish to you, and that's p-" I'm interrupted by her moving closer, kissing me seconds later. I can feel myself getting flustered, with my face going beat red. This is definitely not how I saw tonight going. Moments later, she pulls away from me, with the biggest grin on her face. I can't help myself, but look like a lost deer in headlights. Why'd she kiss me? I thought she only saw me as a friend... This is one time I'm glad I'm wrong.
"Was it really that bad?" She asks, her voice trailing off, as she looks down.
"What?! No, sorry. It just caught me off guard, that's all. Besides, if anyone were to screw things up, it would be me." I reply, trying to reassure her.
"Cause of that classic Parker luck, right? Well don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here with you till the end of the line. But please don't leave again, okay?" She asks.
"Glad to hear it! And I can't guarantee that'll never happen again, just due to the world we live in, but I'll do my best, okay?"
"Hmm okay.. Oh, and Peter?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you go out on a date with me?" That's a complete 180 from just a few hours before at school. That's quite the turnaround. Here I am though, giddy as a schoolgirl on the inside. She feels the same way.
"Uhh, yeah! If we're being honest here, I've uhm kind of had feelings for you for a while now. But I uh didn't think you felt the same though, so there wasn't a point in uhm bringing it up." And there's the stuttering once again. Great job Peter! Talking to her has never been this hard before.
"Awwh, you're stuttering. It's okay Peter.. Wanna go out on patrol or something? This party is kind of a buzzkill." She says, rolling her eyes at the thought of being here for another minute.
"Didn't seem that way when you were playing Mortal Kombat, but okay.. Could we get a rain check on that team up? It's just that I should probably make sure my sister gets home safe. Has had one drink too many. "
"Right, of course. Family comes first. I get it. Well, I'm heading out, so I guess I'll see ya tomorrow!" She answers, still smiling. Though, I can tell she's slightly disappointed. And no, it wasn't a spider-sense feeling. With that, she leaves. I head back inside, looking for Harry, but he's nowhere in sight. So I decide to call it early. I find my sister with her friends coming out of the bathroom.
"Hey, sorry to ruin what's clearly been a good time for all of you, but I think we should probably head out. Looks like she won't make it much longer anyway." They nod, as I help Teresa up. I have her leaning against my shoulder as we walk out of the mansion. I call a taxi, and about 10 minutes later, it arrives. Opening the door, I place Teresa in the back seat, making sure the seatbelt is fastened in. Getting in the car, I hand over what little money I have on me, but I quickly realize it's not nearly enough for the drive to the Hardy Estate. Just great.. Sure enough, about 10 minutes later, the taxi driver pulls over, and I get out. After opening the door, I pull her up so that she's back in the same leaning position as before.
--------------------------------------
45 minutes later, at the Hardy Estate
Finally we're here, and somehow I was able to get Teresa to her room, without Mrs. Hardy, or Aunt May noticing. Felicia catches us, but only smirks, before going back to what she was doing beforehand. Not really feeling all that tired myself, I head into my room afterwards, and start-up my computer. It's ridiculously slow and outdated, but it's better than nothing I guess. Time to figure out who this Brock guy is that mister Jameson was talking to. Brock, New York City, freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle. That's all I really know. Which means it takes me at least 30 minutes of research before anything of value pops up. I didn't get a really good look at the guy, but I'm pretty sure this is him. Edward Brock. Formerly a photographer for the Daily Globe.. Something about his photos being faked. I'm not able to get much more, as it turns out, I'm more tired than I initially thought. I end up falling asleep right then and there. Guess it makes sense, it's been a pretty long day..
"stupid Spider... I WANT TO KILL HIM! KILL HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Eddie cries, pounding on the glass... Suddenly, the glass shatters... "Wh-...What the-..." Eddie stutters, as the symbiote suddenly grips onto him...
~Scarecrow
A funny thing happened while walking to the restaurant a middle aged man walked besides me and said "I hope you don't mind me saying" so I replied In my normal voice "go ahead" the poor man nearly fell over hearing my voice, he stumbled and stuttered and then said "well I have to say you have amazing legs even in flats, I didn't realise you were a gender bender" I laughed said thanks and he walked of smiling. My other half who was walking five paces to my right was having a right old laugh. We he made me feel good.
Boba Fett jumped down from the cockpit of Slave I with a clang onto the cold metal floor. He was interrupted during his hunt for Jalin Tochus by the Dark Knight himself, Darth Vader. He was told he would be payed a handsom price to end his already handsomly priced hunt for Tochus, if he would attend a meeting arranged to discuss a new target. So here he was, standing in Docking Bay 638 of the Executor, the Sith Lord's own personal flagship. His partner, Dengar, landed beside him with a grunt. “So,” Said Dengar, throwing is blaster over his shoulder in case of any “unwanted trouble”. “Where to next? Just then, a large door opened above and in walked the tall black-amored sith who had arranged the meeting. His suit was as black as a Klithor worm hole, and he looked like he could destoy light just as easy. “I think we're about to find out.” Answered Boba, putting a hand on his own weapon. As the Dark Sith stalked down the stairs, the Stormtroopers hurried into two lines and stood strait with their blasters held out. Vader walked between the rows of his minions with his long dark cape flowing behind him. He towering over the Stormtroopers, and even Boba. The Sith Lord stopped just in front of Boba and Dengar. “Welcome.” greeted Vader, with his long intensified breaths following. “I am glad you accepted my invitation." He halted his sentance to breath more air through his dark mask. "To show my gratitude, here is a gift.” Said Vader as he gestured his hand toward to Stormtroopers. With a, “Yes sir!” the two white soldiers hurried away, returning with a body encased in carbonite. It was Jalin Tochus! “He is alive, just as Jabba ordered.” Breathed Vader. Boba nodded. “Glad to be here.” Once again Vader walked between the two rows of Stormtroopers until his midight colored cape dissapeared behind the metal doors. “Nice guy.” Boba turned to see a large grin stretched accross Dengar's scarred face. “Shall we share the prize?” Boba Fett ignored him and turned toward the two Stormtroopers carrying their “gift”. “Put him in the back of the ship.” Boba ordered the two Troopers. “And make sure you don't touch anything. Got it?” Which was more of a threat than an order. “Yes sir!” Answered the two Stormtroopers as they hurried away. Two more Stormtroopers marched up beside the bounty hunters. “Lord Vader commanded that we escort you to the command bridge.” Said the Troopers. Boba nodded and followed the two Stormtroopers through the long gray hallways of the Executor. As they were walking, a small mouse droid rolled up beside the company and beeped annoyingly. Boba stopped to raise a heavy metal boot and crushed it down into the top of the mouse droid, a small fireworks display following. He continued walking and Dengar chuckled. “Why do you have those pesky things buzzing around the place anyway?” Dengar asked the Stormtrooper to his left. But the two soldiers never turned their heads to answer. Boba stared into visor of one of the Stormtroopers, wondering if his fathers face lie inside. As they entered the elevator that lead to the bridge, Boba lifted his hands, imagining the time that he held his fathers mask alone in the middle of the battle scarred Geonosian arena, after it had been cut off by that Jedi filth. There were two reasons he had accepted the Sith Lord's offer. Number one was that he had heard rumors that the last remaining Jedi was traveling with Han Solo and his crew. The second reason was the credits. Both were sufficient. His thoughts were interrupted when the elevator door to the bridge slid open. As he looked in, he saw four other bounty hunters. Bossk, a green, slimy scaled Trandoshan, who was an old partner of his, Zuckuss, who was a member of the short, incect-like Gand Species, and two droid bounty hunters who he did not recognize. Dengar and Boba stepped out of the elevator into the command bridge and the Elevator doors closed behind them. “Welcome.” Said Vader, lifting his arms in greeting. “Now our meeting can begin.” Boba walked over to stand between the tallest droid and Bossk. “I never expected to see you again Boba Fett.” Growled Bossk with his strange gurgling in his throat. “I thought Aurra Sing killed you when we were searching for Strat Trodus on Tarris.” Boba Shrugged. “I'm hard to kill.” He noticed that the imperial troopers in the control bunker below where whispering together. “Bounty hunters!” He overheard them say. “We don't need their scum here.” said one of the troopers angrily. “Yes sir.” Another answered. Bossk Looked down and growled something Boba didn't catch. “Scum?” Thought Fett. “Well apparently you do need our 'scum', or we wouldn't be here would we?” He knew he could silence the two failures below him with two single shots, but he wouldn't want to interrupt their meeting by making a mess of the floor. Once the bounty hunters stopped conversing, Vader started speaking. “I trust that you all know why you are here.” Vader began as he walked around the bounty hunters. “To put your skills to use.” Vader stopped in front of Dengar. “To hunt.” Dengar smiled behind his cloth mask. “Aye.” Vader continued walking. “Han Solo has escaped the ice planet of Hoth with a rather precious cargo. Princess Leia Organa, the leader of the Rebel Alliance. I will not afford you too much information as I understand that you are all quite capable of detecting it yourselves. As I am sure you all understand, there will be a substantial reward for the one who finds the Millenium Falcon. You are free to use any means necessary, but I want them alive!” He stopped in front of Boba this time. “No disintegrations.” Said the Dark Lord, raising his finger in the air inches from Boba Fett's face. “As you wish.” Answered Boba. Though he was slightly disappointed. He had met Han Solo before. In fact, he knew him quite well. But he had learned to loath him after an unfair bet or two. He would have liked to kill the Jedi himself too, but that would risk loosing his pay. And besides, even the mighty bounty hunter Boba Fett wouldn't want to challenge the anger of the even mightier Sith Lord and ruler of the Galaxy. Just then an Imperial trooper ran in. “My Lord! We have them.” Darth Vader looked across the bridge out into space. “Captain! Fire at will!” The man who had run in saluted. “Yes my Lord.” He answered quickly. “Fire at will!” The captain called out to the multiple men in the control bunkers. They all turned to their control desks and fired the large cannons of the Executor. Boba Fett new immediately who they were firing at. The ship rocked a bit as the laser cannons fired away at their target. “I trust that you will not fail me as your predecessor did.” Said the Sith to the captain. The man looked back at Vader with a look of terror etched into his face. “I shall try.” Stuttered the captain. “If you can not accomplish even a task as small as this one captain Needa, I believe you know what the consequences are.” Captain Needa opened his mouth to answer, but Darth Vader was already walking toward the elevator. Captain Nedda closed his gaping mouth and swallowed, then turned and rushed toward the end of the command bridge. Dengar walked over to Boba. “We should hurry and leave now before one of the other hunters claim the prize.” He urged Boba. “We should go to the ship now!” Boba clasped a metal covered hand tight over Dengar's mouth. That was all he needed to say. He let go of Dengar's face tearing part of his mask off. “Fine,” grumbled Dengar as he attempted to fix his cloth mask. “But hurry it up! The other bounty hunters have already left!” Boba Fett turned away and set his attention toward the men at the bridge. “They're turning to attack position!” exclaimed Captain Needa surprisedly. Boba Fett wasn't surprised though. If he knew Solo, he knew one of the craziest men in the inner and outer rims of the Galaxy. Suddenly he saw the Millenium Falcon speed over the bridge, nearly crashing through it's large windows. “Track them! Shouted captain Needa once he gained his composure again. "They may be coming around for another pass.” "Captain Needa,” called one of the men in the control bunkers. “The ship no longer appears on our scopes.” “They can't have disappeared!” Said Captain Needa angrily through gritted teeth. “No ship that small has a cloaking device!” The man in the bunker looked back at his monitor squinting just to make sure he was correct. “Well, there's no trace of them sir.” Another man called out to Captain Needa. “Captain! Lord Vader Demands an update on the pursuit.” Boba's smile his behind his mask. Darth Vader would not be pleased. If this man couldn't even accomplish the small task of shooting down a small ship like the Millenium Falcon, even with hundreds of guns at his command, he deserved whatever punishment Darth Vader had implied earlier. “Captain Needa froze where he stood, obviously remembering what had happened to the former commander. Finally he looked up. “Get a shuttle ready.” He stuttered quietly. “....I shall assume full responsibility for loosing them, and apologize to Lord Vader.... Meanwhile, continue to scan the area.” The man standing next to him looked nearly as scared as the captain himself. “Yes captain Needa.” Said the man before hurrying away. Boba Fett stood silently for a few moments, going through all the possibilities in his head. Another imperial trooper walked into the room, and called down to one of the men in the command bunker. “Lieutenant Nolan! Prepare to evacuate the garbage vents in 025 minutes.” The Lieutenant looked up and nodded. Boba looked up quickly as a possibility opened up before him. He turned around and ran toward the elevator only to hear a yell behind him. “Hey!” Yelled Dengar as he ran for the elevator. “Don't think you'll be leaving without me!” Babo Fett lifted his blaster until it pointed strait between Dengar's eyes. “Sorry,” said Boba as the door began to close. “But Solo is mine.”
My first post of 2013! This was a really fun build to... well, build. I'm pretty happy with how the final picture turned out. There are a few things I don't like in this picture, but every time I try to change the lighting, I break something! So I figured, eh, this is fine.
Sorry I din't post anything over winter Vacation, but I was pretty busy with family and my new camera. :)
But trust me, I'm in a good building mood lately. Maybe you can even expect a certain lego assault rifle sometime soon...
No, not the Steyr AUG, There are quite a few pieces I need for that, so I don't think I'll be building it any time soon. But you can for sure (maybe) expect some form of lego gun sometime soon(ish) (maybe)
Working on 'On The Pig's Back' (after the fall). Feeling a little backed-up, with stuttering images.
Mind the Gap.
Clockwise from upper-left:
* M5A1 Stuart Light Tank
* M7 Priest Howitzer Motor Carriage
* M2A1 Light Tank (by Brickmania)
* M4 Sherman Tank (by Brickmania)
* M16 Multiple Gun Motor Carriage / M3 Halftrack
* M4A2E2 Sherman "Jumbo" Medium Tank
* M8 Greyhound Armored Car
Read the write-up on The Brothers Brick.