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My Highlights Of The 2015 Melbourne International Comedy Festival
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My Highlights Of The 2015 Melbourne International Comedy Festival
I totally smashed the 2015 Melbourne International Comedy Festival, going to over 30 shows during the 3 weeks I camped out in the Melbourne Central Youth Hostel, and then Nomads All Nations after the YHA kicked me out for overstaying my visa welcome.
Tickets From Some Of The Shows I Saw
I take my hat off to all the comedians who showed up and strutted their stuff for my amusement. It’s hard to rank all the shows I saw, or compare them on any sensible basis as there was so much variety and talent on show and they were almost all highly entertaining.
But nevertheless, here’s my best attempt starting with my most favourites:
Rich Hall
Measured by sheer quantity of my own laughter, Rich Hall was my highlight of the festival. I laughed so much, I lost it completely many times. At one point I thought the rather conservative-looking woman next to me was going to have a go at me for enjoying myself too much. Rich’s acerbic wit, cynicism and rapid-fire delivery made me laugh so hard that muscles in my head which I didn’t even know I had went into spasm. It was just extraordinary. And if I thought his bit about Target was hilarious, that was nothing compared to his song about Bob Dylan which was just hysterical.
Thank you, thank you, thank you Rich, you are an inspiration.
Arj Barker
Arj Barker is one of my all-time comedy heroes. Not only did I love his character Dave in the Flight Of The Conchords HBO series, I think his music video The Sickest Buddhist is hilarious, and he never fails to deliver live.
This festival I had a bonus treat when I bumped into him on the street corner outside Town Hall. I was a little star-struck and the conversation went something like this:
“Hey Arj!”, I said suddenly upon noticing my comedy idol right in front of me while crossing the street.
“Oh, Hi”, said Arj, appearing slightly startled.
“I’m Graham. I saw your show last week. Love your work.”, as I extended my hand.
“Hello Graham”, replied Arj as we shook hands.
Quick Graham, think of something intelligent to say: “I really like how you weave spiritual themes into your stand-up routine.”
“Well you’ve got to talk about something”, Arj replied.
“I’m a comedian too; but I’ve only just got into it. Where do you find your inspiration?”
“Just everyday things, you know”, my spiritual comedy leader opined.
“Like, personal experience hey”, I agreed naively.
“Yeah… At first, everything that happens to you, you’re like ‘how can I make a joke out of this’? Then after a while it gets a bit more difficult.”
“Right… like first album syndrome!”, I empathised misguidedly.
“Mmm… more like fourth or fifth album syndrome.”, he replied.
“Well great to meet you Arj!”
“Thanks Graham… nice to meet you too”
Top bloke; even remembered my name.
Dave Callan
Where to begin with this one? Well, the title A Little Less Conversation 2: A Little More Less Conversation made me laugh even before I turned up. It was an extension of Dave’s previous show titled A Little Less Conversation, where much of the talking was replaced with contemporary dancing. Not the dicky interpretive style, but the music video type. Then after explaining that there would be no silly dancing in this show, Dave Callan and four hot young dancers led us through a hilarious music video dance journey backwards through the alphabet.
The weird thing is Dave is actually remarkably flexible and despite what you’d guess from his appearance, he can dance. Beat It took on a new meaning, his pole routine was extraordinary, there was an awkwardly funny male wardrobe malfunction, and I’ll never be able to listen to Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off again without just hearing that the bakers are gonna bake, bake, bake, bake, bake.
Puddles Pity Party
I first heard about Puddles Pity Party when an excited group of people got on the tram while on my way home on night, and kept raving about what a great night they’d had at some show they’d just seen. I couldn’t help but ask “What have you been up to?”, and they replied: “Puddles Pity Party… you’ve got to go see it!”
And so I did. Puddles is called “The Sad Clown With The Golden Voice”, and rightly so. It’s hard to put into words just how entertaining he is, from the way he sings to the way he interacts with the audience; the whole thing is just magic, especially considering that he never really speaks during the whole show. I’ll never hear Dancing Queen the same way again, nor the hostile audience refrain from Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again? Just amazing.
Ronny Chieng
Even just the publicity photo and title of the Ronny Chieng‘s show You Don’t Know What You’re Talking About made me laugh, and that was before I’d even booked the tickets. I can just imagine him leaning back on that seat telling me off for speaking before my brain was engaged. His acerbic wit is hilarious live and he seems to have risen to prominence quite quickly; although I have a hunch it might not have seemed quite so quick to him.
Aside from his comedy, Ronny had by far the best neon sign of the festival. I also bumped into (that’s a synonym for accosted) him crossing the street in Melbourne, and said a quick “Hi”. Seemed like a decent guy who appeared to be going somewhere that didn’t involve hanging around chatting to a random stranger like me for too long.
Steen Raskopoulos
Earmarked as one of the leading emerging comedy talents of the country, I think I’ll claim Steen Raskopoulos as a friend of mine since I’ve been to several Improv classes taught by him, and I reckon by now he probably even knows my name. I saw Steen’s preview show back in Sydney when he was road-testing material for this festival, and it was a real treat to see the final work on stage in Character Assassin.
Steen really takes his audience on an emotional journey which includes involving audience members with no Improv background up on stage. He has a way of making you feel safe. I did laugh though when he said “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything that I wouldn’t do myself”. I know he’s sincere, but as a seasoned Improv guru, I’m pretty sure the scope of what he would be prepared to do himself is probably broader than most of his audience.
Nevertheless I’m sure his participants went away grateful for the experience. He also ties the various themes, characters and stories in his show together brilliantly. The whole set-up, execution and finale to the Old Man And The Ducks story was a work of art. Pure genius.
Another highlight for me was Steen and Susie Youssef’s Bus Stop Romance at the Festival Club mime night. Funny thing is, I think I’d seen it before, yet it still works. Or are they just such likable performers that it feels familiar even first time around?
Stephen K Amos
Another one of my favourite comedians is Stephen K Amos, whose voice and persona just make me laugh right from the word “go”. I got the feeling he’d only just stepped off the plane when I saw his preview show. He just hilarious though and the fun he’s clearly having on stage is infectious. I was particularly impressed with the way he handled a heckler about 40 minutes into the show, when a guy down the back yelled out:
“First one mate!”, implying that he’d only just found something funny.
Mr Amos smiled broadly and said proudly, “I know how to handle this”… and then proceeded to demolish the guy. Can’t remember what he said, but it was awesome to witness. I wish I’d videoed it… but I get the feeling Stephen really hates that.
Sammy J & Randy
Everyone’s favourite wildly successful man-puppet musical comedy duo (we’ve all been there!), An Evening With Sammy J & Randy is always entertaining, with their bizarre absurdist musical comedy storytelling.
I got laid after the last time I saw their show, so I had high hopes this year. That’s all I’ll say about that.
I passed up a unique opportunity during the Upstaging bit in their show, when Randy lept from the stage in a full-body puppet outfit and clamoured all over me in the audience in an attempt to upstage Sammy J, who was delivering a monologue from his drama studies thesis about the perils of upstaging. It suddenly occurred to me to pull Randy’s mask off, thus upstaging them both. Who is the guy playing the purple puppet anyway? Sadly, I chose to let them have their moment and watch passively instead. I’ll endeavour to be more pro-active next time.
Randy’s lip-sync battle at The Festival Club was also had me seeing double for a while. #YOUJUSTHADTOBETHERE.
Nina Conti
Nina Conti has perfected the art of externalising the monkey-mind of her inner critic for our amusement, and she does it brilliantly. Then she takes ventriloquism to a whole new level when she gets members of the audience up on stage, straps a remote-controlled mask with huge lips on them, and says “Don’t worry, I’ll do the talking for you.” All they have to do is stand there for the most part, and the result is hilarious. She either knows intuitively what they’re really thinking, or lives in a fantasy world that’s even funnier.
In one part of the show, Nina’s alter-ego monkey put her in a hypnotic trance, took control of the show and then proceeded to ask for questions from the audience. Feeling like a smart-arse, I yelled out: “What’s the meaning of life?” This led to a fun, engaging and somewhat nihilistic dialogue, which worked even better given that I was down the back of the room where Nina, being in a hypnotic trance, clearly couldn’t see where I was and had to ask which direction to point the puppet in. Surreal and hilarious. Monkey asked “Are you a seeker?” and “What do you do?”, to which I replied “I’m a comedian”. Judging by its curtly cynical and amusing answer, pursuing comedy won’t lead me to enlightenment… but I’m still willing to fail trying.
Akmal Saleh
Whenever I see a show by Akmal Saleh, I never really know what it is about. I don’t think he knows what it’s about either. But hey, the guy is funny so who’s complaining? Rockhampton, apparently.
Miles Allen
I was a late bloomer: I got into Breaking Bad late in life, when season 5 had just come out on DVD. Thanks to my local library’s phenomenal DVD collection, I had a month-long Breaking Bad festival where I barely left the house except to hunt for food, and the next instalment. It was rather heavy-going. So imagine my delight to find Miles Allen had packed all 5 seasons into a single hour of One Man Breaking Bad. This was a really fun way to revisit the show without having to spend another month, nor wind up with a crystal meth addiction. Bitches!
Sara Pascoe
What a welcome treat to have a comedian including vital lessons on evolutionary psychology, sociology and human sexuality in her act. I’ve also read Sperm Wars (or perhaps it was Sex At Dawn, which covers similar ground), and appreciated the in-depth analysis of why modern relationships don’t work as well as we expect, as much as the comedy. Apparently Sara Pascoe‘s partner is also a comedian, and they use each other in their respective routines. If that’s not symbiosis, I don’t know what is.
Kitty Flanagan
Kitty Flanagan is funny, sexy, sassy… and single? How can this be, or is it just a comedy ruse so that she can do routines about her ex-partner? Well, it was funny. I can’t help noticing that the audience was about 90% female, which improved my odds of hooking up significantly. I’d say more, but I’m afraid that she’ll see it as use the material against me in a future show.
Tom Gleeson
One of the funniest things I’ve ever seen on TV was Tom Gleeson‘s iPhone rant from Good News Week. The great thing about seeing him live is that you get the adult version, not the PG-rated one that we usually see on TV. With years of experience making people laugh, he can even make stories about his kids entertaining to other people. As he said in his act: “I nail this, every time”. Cocky, yes; but also engaging and funny.
Genevieve Fricker
What do you get when you take a musical comedienne with a strained arm and put her on-stage with a piano and a busted electric guitar? No, it’s not a joke; it was the plight of Gen Fricker the evening I saw her at the festival. An unfortunate incident helping her father move furniture (you’ll know not to do that again) had left her arm in a sling, and although the guitar issue turned out to be a problem with the speakers, she only found that out later. Ms Fricker handled the situation like a pro, using it all for comic value. Definitely one of the most likeable performers at the festival, she’s also great value when you run into her off-stage.
Jeff Green
What are you to do on a quiet Monday night at the festival, when most other comedians are recovering from their weekend hangovers? Check out Jeff Green, that’s what. What is it with UK comedians coming to Australia to steal our women though? Surely it’s not just for residency in Australia, is it?
Susie Youssef
Another recently-claimed friend of mine from Sydney, it was great to see Susie Youssef doing her own show at the festival. I’ve seen Susie do Improv before many times, but not stand-up… so what a treat!
Ray Badran
My mate Ray Badran was Dazed & Confused after pulling the PR coup of the festival with a brilliantly mis-executed audience interaction during a pre-festival show that got his name into papers as far away as the U.K. All publicity is good publicity, Ray. Nothing like a little controversy to get the word out there.
Joel Ozborn
Took a random punt on Joel Ozborn, who I’d never heard of before. He was funny, and he did it without putting anybody else down. My head was pretty much spinning by this point in the festival so I can’t recall much else about his show except that it included a little guitar, a little less keyboard, a shoe, and that it was held in the kitchen.
Luke Heggie
Luke Heggie has finely honed cynicism into an art form. If I ever have another BBQ, he’s invited. His bit about gentleman’s clubs had me falling off my seat, and although he says he isn’t special, I’m not so sure. He has a show at the Melbourne International Comedy festival, and that’s pretty special. I also chatted to him after the show and he seemed pretty cool.
Stuart Daulman
I took a punt on Stuart Daulman because the title of his show Stuart Daulman Is An Absolute Credit reminded me of the hilarious (to me, anyway) airline food reference from The Castle. I really wasn’t quite sure what was going on during most of this show, but by the end I reckon I almost got it. It’s a performance, not just a dude telling stories. I also learned how to use for dead birds for the art of seduction. I hope the beautiful Haaaaannah gets to see his show one day.
Rob Lloyd
I was stunned by Rob Lloyd‘s show Rob Lloyd vs The Monsters, based on his childhood anxieties. I was hoping for some helpful insights into my adult anxieties, which I suspect go back to my own childhood. But mainly I was just stunned. You can take that however you like. It was, nevertheless, an impressive performance piece; if you’re into that sort of thing.
The Festival Club
After realising that returning to my hostel to sleep any time before about 1 or 2 am was completely pointless given the two trams and a suburban train line right outside the window, I abandoned the idea of getting a decent nights sleep altogether and ended almost every night late at The Festival Club. Some of these nights were recorded by the ABC for Comedy Up Late, which was cool because it meant I got to relive them on iview after getting home.
Acts I remember include:
Mark Watson had my favourite line from the festival: “I would do that religiously. And by religiously I mean: without really thinking it through in detail”.
John Kearns had impressive teeth.
Kano Mami was hard to describe, but fun to watch.
Djuki Mala got their dance moves on.
Rhys Nicholson reminded me why I’m straight.
Lawrence Mooney made me laugh.
DeAnne Smith had a sweet song with helpful pick-up lines in it.
Die Roten Punkte at Haus Party were either a really silly duo of German musicians, or taking the piss.
It was nice for Mike Wilmot to be here.
So You Think You Can Mime. I think they can.
The guy who won the Lip Sync Battle with an unforgettable rendition of What A Feeling from Flashdance.
Set List
Let’s face it: we like seeing other people suffer. It’s funny, because we know the pain is happening to someone else. And comedians are funny for a living… So what could be funnier than a comedian suffering on stage? That’s the dark side of Set List. The light side is that it can inspire comic genius by assisting with the free flow of streams of consciousness as topics that the comedian has never seen before appear on the screen.
The highlight here for me was Sara Pascoe’s improvised four walls to the prison of the mind; and the guy who literally ran off-stage mid-way through the “set” after freaking out. He made me feel a lot better about myself.
Shaggers
Shaggers, the show where comics talk about sex, became a regular feature of my festival calendar after first seeing it 2 years ago on the suggestion of my mate Peter. On that night, one of the comedians went totally ballistic riffing on the audience, and it was absolutely hilarious.
This time around, most of the comics talked about how they hadn’t been laid in ages; so it was more of a show about not shagging. Desperation isn’t attractive; and maybe it was a bad omen because I totally failed to hook up with any of the cute girls in the audience that night too.
Other Randoms
A few other random highlights were:
Seeing Simon Taylor totally own a room full of screaming drunk idiots in a pub.
I’m the kind of person who sees Bob Downe in Big Top Bob.
If I wasn’t in a bad mood, Greg Fleet was probably funny.
Rebecca De Unamuno did some remarkable improvised characters.
Reliving Becky Lucas‘s bestest childhood best friendship.
59 Free Comedy inspired a pleasant tram ride to Richmond.
Outdoor Performers
I also saw plenty of outdoor performers in Federation Square and just across the road from the Town Hall. The most memorable ones were:
Mr Moriyasu: I’m still not clear if he’s actually Japanese, or taking the piss. But he’s funny, and he really does go inside that balloon. I’m hungry!
Trash Test Dummies: Who knew wheelie bins could be such fun?
Jessica Arpin nicked some girl’s boyfriend on a Swiss bicycle.
Sharon from Canada’s voice really grated on me.
Random Meetings
Another fun highlight of the festival was bumping into or seeing famous people from TV. They’re a little different in person; for one thing, you can talk back to them:
Julia Zemiro was friendly, engaging, and even helped me with my social skills.
Andrew Hansen was also really friendly and even gave me a helpful response to my silly question: “How can I get on TV?”
Lawrence Leung was busy filming something outside the town hall when I saw him, so I didn’t interrupt.
Claire Hooper looks pretty much the same in real life as she does on TV. Fancy that.
David Collins questioned my judgement for seeing Bob Downe’s show Big Top Bob, asking “What kind of person goes to see that?”, which I thought was a bit mean… so I decided not to mention him here.
#Akmal Saleh#Andrew Hansen#Arj Barker#Becky Lucas#Bob Downe#Claire Hooper#Dave Callan#David Collins#DeAnne Smith#Djuki Mala#Genevieve Fricker#Greg Fleet#Jeff Green#Jessica Arpin#Joel Ozborn#John Kearns#Julia Zemiro#Kano Mami#Kitty Flanagan#Lawrence Leung#Lawrence Mooney#Luke Heggie#Mark Watson#Melbourne International Comedy Festival#Miles Allen#Mr Moriyasu#Nina Conti#Puddles Pity Party#Ray Badran#Rebecca De Unamano
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not to be a slut but imagine danny in one of those skin tight black gym shark shirts 👁️👁️
#all i’m sayinggghghgghh#mayhaps accompanied by greg sweatpants#👀👀👀#greta van fleet#gvf#danny wagner
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#sense and sensibility#sinn und sinnlichkeit#kate winslet#emma thompson#hugh grant#alan rickman#myriam francois cerrah#gemma jones#harriet walter#hugh laurie#james fleet#greg wise#tom wilkinson#robert hardy#imelda staunton#imogen stubbs#ang lee
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Part 4!
Credits to @starcatcherkiszka for the fic idea!!
In case you want something to listen to while you read: ✨Summer of 69 Playlist✨
Words: 6.8k
Warnings: language, drinking
Synopsis: Greta Van Fleet somehow manages to travel back in time to the Summer of 69, during the Woodstock Art and Music festival. You can only imagine what hijinks they’re going to get up to.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
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“Get warmed up, Danny,” Josh beamed. “We’re going on after Melanie.”
“No we’re not,” Danny’s voice hardened.
“Told you he wouldn’t go for it,” Jake told Josh. Josh crossed his arms and turned back to Danny with a new look of determination plastered on his face. Danny scowled back.
“Be grateful, Danny. You’re gonna get to say you played at Woodstock.”
“I’m tired of you guys not taking me seriously.”
Sam whistled; it was rare for Danny to stand up to any of them.
“I’m tired of you acting like you’ve got a stick shoved up your ass,” Josh gave Danny a dirty look.
“Josh,” Jake raised his voice. “That’s too far.”
Danny’s face remained placid, but it was clear that there was a fire raging within him. Josh looked like he was ready to keep hounding Danny, which Danny was more than likely to respond to with a fist in Josh’s face. It was a miracle that Carlos Santana walked past them at that moment. All four of them dropped their mouths in awe.
“Are you going up there soon?” Carlos jutted his thumb at the stage.
They looked around at each other, unsure what to say. Carlos seemed unbothered by the silence since he leaned back on the front of the stage and scanned over the crowd with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Me and my guys are playing tomorrow. We’re all pretty nervous, but the people here seem to love anything, as long as it’s loud and has a good beat to it. That’s the kind of crowd I’ll gladly play for. This whole thing is far out.” Carlos pursed his lips together and shook his head, like he couldn’t believe his luck.
Danny looked like he was thinking hard.
“One of our guys is getting cold feet,” Josh spoke up.
“Bummer, man,” Carlos tsked. “You’d think being in a place like this would set you free. I hope your buddy can lighten up and get out there. I’m sure he’ll regret it otherwise.”
Carlos’ face brightened when he saw someone off in the distance that he recognized and pushed himself back upright from the stage.
“I hope to see you up there,” he waved goodbye to them.
“Bye, Carlos Santana,” Jake mumbled in awe.
“Did Carlos’ words resonate?” Josh turned back to Danny. “If Carlos Santana is saying you should play, you should probably play.”
“You know I could break you over my leg if I wanted to,” Danny replied.
“You need your space, got it,” Josh took a few steps away from him.
“But I’ll do it,” Danny added after a long pause. They all whipped around to face him in shock.
“But what about the butterfly effect?” Jake’s eyes were wide.
“I’m sure we’ve already screwed up the future,” Danny admitted. “We might as well enjoy ourselves. What was it you said earlier, Sam? Fuck it, we ball?”
“I’m sorry about the stick up your ass comment,” Josh cautiously moved back to Danny’s side to give him a loving pat on the back. “If anything, the stick was really just a twig.”
“Just remember that I could break you in half,” Danny reminded Josh.
“Of course,” Josh paled at the thought of being snapped.
“I have one condition though,” Danny continued while he was on a roll. “We go by a different name.”
“What’s wrong with Greta Van Fleet?” Jake asked.
“If and when we make it back to our time, I don’t want to get caught up in a lawsuit with ourselves over our band name.”
“That would be pretty funny though,” Sam looked to be imagining the court session with a goofy grin on his face. “I’ve always wanted to sue myself.”
“Why don’t we pull a Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young?” Jake tried to brainstorm.
“What would that be?” Sam broke out of his daydream to cackle. “Kiszka, Kiszka, Kiszka & Wagner?”
“We should do pseudonyms,” Josh suggested. Danny clapped his hands together at the thought.
“You can be Harry Dickface,” he pointed at Josh.
“Still bitter about the stick up the ass comment, noted,” Josh grumbled.
“We could make an acronym with the first initial of all our names,” Sam spoke over Josh. “What could we do with S, D, J, and J?”
“JJ and the Salty Dogs?” Josh’s face brightened.
“I mean,” Danny thought it over. “If you had started a band in the 60s, you definitely would have called yourself that.”
“All I can think of is Semen Dick Juicy Juice,” Sam admitted. “That’s the best my brain can do.”
“All in favor of JJ and the Salty Dogs?” Josh asked around, raising a hand. Sam and Danny joined him, but Jake studied the ground. Josh stared onwards at his twin and then cleared his throat. “All in favor of Semen Dick Juicy Juice?” With a bright smile, Jake lifted his hand up to the sky.
“JJ and the Salty Dogs it is,” Danny announced.
“It’s not a unanimous vote?” Jake looked disappointed.
“You really want to go out there as Semen Dick Juicy Juice?” Josh couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His brother was usually so serious about his music.
“It’s funny,” Jake lifted his shoulders. Josh scoffed at his brother and turned back to Sam and Danny, who had redirected their focus to the end of Ravi Shankar’s set.
“We need to head backstage to figure out our instruments,” he shared. The guy who had promised them a spot in the lineup hadn’t sounded all that concerned about the fact that Josh and his band had no instruments. In his words, they just had to “go with the flow.”
“Backstage at Woodstock!” Jake whooped as he threw two peace signs up. A few people around them stared at Jake in confusion, so Josh grabbed Jake’s shoulders and steered him away from the crowd so he would stop making a fool of himself.
Josh was relieved that it didn’t take too long for them to spot the backstage manager he had talked to earlier. He was moving some heavy looking crates, but stopped and embraced Josh in a warm hug when he noticed him.
“Nice to see you, brother!” he exclaimed.
“Dave, this is my band,” Josh released from Dave to motion to his brothers. “We’re gonna need to figure out our instruments before we head on stage.”
“Right on,” Dave clapped his hands together and nodded. “You guys are in luck, we just got some gear shipped in for the bands playing tomorrow. I doubt they would mind if you borrowed some stuff for your set. Most of them aren’t here yet anyway, they won’t know the difference.”
“Is that really how they did it in the 60s?” Sam whispered to Danny in awe. “I wouldn’t want someone else touching my bass.”
“Here, I’ll let you take a look,” Dave motioned for them to follow behind him. The next thing they knew, they were standing in front of a pile of guitar and drum cases sitting unattended in the grass behind the large stage. “Have at it.”
Jake moved towards a battered guitar case that looked promising and felt his heart thunder in his chest when he unhooked the latches and was face to face with Pete Townshend’s SG Gibson.
“No way,” Josh looked over his shoulder. “That looks like yours.”
“Dude,” Jake had to clear his throat to keep his voice from cracking. “This is Pete fucking Townshend’s.”
“Are you gonna play it?”
“Fucking hell,” Jake shook his head. “Of course I am, as long as Pete doesn’t find out. He would probably have my head on a stake if he knew I was touching this.”
“Good pick,” Dave came up behind Jake. “That one’s a beauty. And probably destined to be smashed on stage tomorrow night. I’m glad she’ll get a few solid plays in before her ultimate demise.”
Jake held the guitar closer to him, as if to protect it from any harm.
Sam was gazing down at a cherry red Guild Starfire with a deep look of contemplation.
“It’s got quadraphonic pickups,” he admired, poking down at the body of the bass guitar. Danny joined him and studied the instrument.
“That looks like a Phil Lesh bass,” he said. Sam studied the case closer and, lo and behold, the Grateful Dead’s bassist’s name was etched into the inside lid in a gold font.
“Well, shit, I guess this will have to do.”
“Hey, Danny!” Josh called a few yards away, stationed in front of a collection of boxed up drum parts.
“Yeah?”
“This kit says Doug Clifford on it!”
That was all Danny needed to hear to rush over to Josh’s side. Doug “Cosmo” Clifford’s drums had a richness to them that Danny had always admired on Creedence Clearwater Revival’s records. He was sure a lot of their sound had to do with Cosmo himself, but having the opportunity to even touch his kit brought Danny a joy he couldn’t turn down.
“I’ll gladly play that,” Danny stated, without even inspecting the kit. He had seen it at the Musical Instruments Museum on an off day when they were playing a gig in Phoenix a few years back. Sure, the kit wasn’t flashy like something Keith Moon played, but it was simple and it was perfect for Danny’s style.
“Feeling good?” Dave checked in with everyone.
“I’ll take whatever microphone Janis is singing with,” Josh placed an order with Dave, who replied with a hearty laugh,
“All singers are using the same mic, don’t worry.”
With their instrument situation settled, everyone was feeling a bit more at ease, all things considered. Though none of them were planning to openly admit it aloud, they were all feeling pretty anxious about going out on stage. Carlos Santana had a point that the crowd was a good and accepting one, but taking a second to consider the weight of what they were about to do was too overwhelming to bear.
Sam was grateful that they could keep themselves distracted by putting all of their attention into creating a setlist while Melanie took the stage. After asking them what their group name was so they could announce it over the PA, Dave disclosed that they had a 30 minute time slot to play however many songs they could fit. He added with a wink that the hippies in the crowd liked songs they could get lost in. Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny all took that to heart as they sat in a circle backstage, trying to recall their best songs.
“We play a compilation of our favorite songs, how about that?” Josh thought aloud as he tapped his pen on his chin. “So that way we aren’t just copying our setlists from the future.”
“Considering how long I go with my solos, we’re only gonna be able to play three songs,” Jake realized.
“I’ll just kick you when you’re playing for too long,” Josh promised. Jake made a face.
“Please don’t do that.”
They got into a few arguments along the way but finally gathered a list of songs that felt right. Their timing was impeccable since they had just enough time for Josh to go through his vocal warm ups and Sam to rush around the backstage area looking for any kind of liquid courage.
Everything really started to feel real when Dave took the stage and tapped on the microphone a few times.
“We’ve got a treat for you all this evening,” his voice boomed over the crowd. “A new band showed up and was added to the lineup at the last minute. Trust me, they’ve got a sound you’re gonna dig. Give it up for JJ and the Salty Dogs!”
Jake had Pete Townshend’s guitar strapped to him and, even though it was unplugged, he could feel its power buzzing in his hands. He took one look out at the audience from the side stage and quickly closed his eyes. He knew that he would be able to get through their set because his muscle memory was intact and they had all been playing for long enough that they knew how to cover for one another if things went south. But he always wanted to play at his absolute best, so the pressure was still there. He had a bad feeling it was going to take him a while to get used to the Gibson since, like Pete Townshend, he was sure it had a bite to it.
From behind Jake, Sam had his arm wrapped around Danny’s shoulder. It was a relief that Danny had come around and decided it would be worthwhile to play at Woodstock. On top of that, Sam was over the moon that Danny looked as excited as he felt. He had ditched the white tunic backstage so he was back to showing off his exposed chest, and he held his drumsticks in both hands at the ready.
“This is gonna be great,” Danny leaned further into Sam’s side.
“They’re not ready for this,” Sam agreed.
At the back of the line, Josh was bouncing from foot to foot, shaking out his arms to remove all the negative energy. His voice had cracked a few times during his warmup which was a point of concern, but Josh tried not to fret on it too much. He was sure that his voice was just a little roughed up from how much he had shouted with joy during Ravi Shankar’s set. Traveling through time also probably wasn’t great on his vocal cords.
Dave stepped away from center stage and motioned for them to climb up the staircase.
“Give it your all,” he beamed as he passed them by. Jake sucked in a deep breath to calm his racing mind and led the way up the stage. The audience gave a hearty clap at his entrance which helped clear his head, and he hurried to the amps to plug his guitar in. After testing out a few chords, Jake nodded his head. The sound was a lot more raw than he was used to, but he loved how the guitar popped and snapped like it had a life of its own.
“GOOD EVENING,” Josh hollered into the microphone from center stage. Danny tested out the cymbals on the Cosmo kit and let out a whoop in glee. “WE ARE GRE-JJ AND THE SALTY DOGS,” Josh continued. “COMING TO YOU FROM ANOTHER WORLD.” The audience greeted that announcement with loud cheers. “Ready?” Josh turned around to check in with the band.
“Count us in,” Jake nodded.
“One, two, one, two, three, four,” Josh called over his shoulder. Sam broke into the mesmerizing intro to “Age of Man,” using Bert Sommer’s keys that had been left on stage from his set earlier in the day. Josh gazed out over the crowd and closed his eyes in euphoria.
“In an age of darkness light appears, and it wards away the ancient fears, march to the anthem of the heart, to a brand new day, a brand new start.”
Claps echoed across the grounds when Jake and Danny joined in and Josh took a step back from the microphone to nod to the music. He was glad to see that, at least within the first thirty or so rows of people, they were all standing and swaying to the music, lifting their arms up towards the heavens. He looked to his left and grinned when he saw that Jake was entirely in his element, squeezing his eyes shut and arching his back with every note hit so he was one with the music that was pouring from his guitar.
“And as we came into the clear, to find ourselves where we are here.” Josh’s voice had never felt more powerful. A good handful of people in the crowd seemed to call out in shock at how good they were sounding, which only motivated Josh to give even more. Danny, Sam, and Jake all seemed to feel the same way, because there was a kind of magic to what they were doing. While they knew that they sounded good during their usual shows, it was almost as if they truly were exploring through the history of humanity and taking the wide expanse of people in front of them on the journey.
The song ended and the roar of approval was deafening.
“Holy shit,” Jake bumped into Josh’s side. “They like it.”
“We’re playing at Woodstock!” Sam couldn’t help but shout from behind the keys.
“And we don’t sound like shit!” Danny added. Josh beamed at his bandmates and then returned back to the microphone since the cheers were dying down and replaced with a feeling of eager anticipation for their next song.
“Thank you,” Josh said, hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt. “This next one is, well, it’s pretty fitting for the occasion. It’s called Flower Power.”
The audience seemed to be a fan of the name alone, which Josh had to laugh at.
“Dig it!” he shouted into the microphone and then pointed at Jake to start the song. Jake tore into the opening riff with a wide grin, using an acoustic guitar that he had found sitting unattended backstage. Danny joined in on Cosmo’s kit, thundering into the drums so they pulsed over the PA. Puffs of smoke started appearing in the crowd and, to Josh’s delight, even more people started to join in the wild and free dancing. Off in the distance he could see a group of small children holding hands and skipping around in a circle to their music. They were really in their element.
“Hey! Turn to night, firelight, star shines in her eyes, makes me feel like I’m alive, she’s outtasight, hey!”
Jake stomped to center stage, as far as the cable would let him go, and started to mouth out his guitar part as he jumped into his solo. Josh clasped a hand on his brother’s shoulder, which Jake smiled at, and then he returned back to his side of the stage when he finished. With that, Josh entered into the bridge, lifting his arms higher and higher into the sky, which the audience copied, and then he turned and pointed to Sam, who was ready on the keys.
While he usually played an organ during their tour, Sam was stuck with a normal piano, but it was more than enough for him as he entered into an extended solo that cascaded up and down the keys in a jazzy succession. Danny leaned forward on his stool and rested his head in his hands as he watched Sam pound away on the keys in utter admiration. In front of them, the crowd lifted their hands and started to clap loudly, keeping in time as Sam played the solo of his life.
After doing one more run up and down the ivories, he played a final chord and couldn’t help but stand and take a deep bow when he was greeted by whistles and screams of joy.
“This is insane,” Sam mused to Danny as he stepped out from behind his keyboard to give one final wave to the crowd. “What is happening?”
“I wish I could tell you,” Danny laughed.
Josh backed away from the microphone again and joined Jake’s side. As blissful as it was to be playing in front of such a large, loving crowd, he wasn’t thrilled about the next song in their setlist. Sam had pitched the idea when they were figuring out what to play, claiming that it was the perfect song for the occasion. Josh could respect that opinion, but they didn’t usually play it live since it was understood in the band that it was, for the most part, out of Josh’s wheelhouse. But, after trying to put his foot down, Josh realized that his bandmates were all apathetic to his concerns and he was outvoted.
“I’m nervous,” he whispered to Jake. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince his brother to back out of the song last-minute.
“You gotta do it,” Jake replied without an ounce of sympathy. “It’s a great song.”
“But, my voice,” Josh attempted to protest.
“Your voice is on fire, Josh,” Jake disagreed. “Just close your eyes and let the music take you there.”
At that point Josh knew he wouldn’t be able to back out of it, so he returned to the front of the stage. Danny tapped on his cymbals and Sam began playing the beginning to “Tears of Rain.”
“This next song, it’s a beautiful song. It’s about the search for salvation, in a way. It’s about the long trip we’ve made, I suppose, to get here,” Josh spoke.
And with that, he let it rip.
“Bathing in the light around us, praying for the night to comfort thee, dancing on the coals below us, praying for the flood to set us free.”
Jake, playing the Gibson, came behind Josh and kneed him in the side of the leg.
“You’ve got it,” he called over the wall of music he, Danny, and Sam were making. Josh kept his eyes squeezed shut so he could remain in the zone. In his head, he was back in the studio when they had first recorded the song.
“Yeah,” he wailed into the microphone, “Who will bring the rain?”
As Josh hit his first unbelievably high note, he started to feel rain drops dancing onto his cheeks while he faced the sky. The crowd at first started to murmur in alarm at the rain that was rapidly picking up as Josh continued his “who will bring the rain?” chant but, once they accepted that they were going to get soaked, their cheers returned. Josh could tell that his hair was starting to plaster over his forehead and his clothes were feeling heavier, but he finally opened his eyes and boomed out in his strongest acapella wail the final, “Who will bring the rai-ai-ai-aiiiiii-ain!”
“Is it still safe to play?” he could hear Jake ask a stagehand. “ I don’t want to get electrocuted.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine, pal,” the stagehand assured Jake, though he seemed like maybe not the most trustworthy person. “We’ve got paramedics if you need them.”
“Great,” Jake mumbled.
From his keyboard, Sam attempted to push his dampened hair out of his face but wound up sputtering when he got a bunch stuck in his mouth. The paint on his jean jacket had started to run down his arms and chest during “Tears of Rain,” so he slightly resembled a pack of Skittles. None of that seemed to bother him though, since he looked around for confirmation that they were still playing and then broke into “Rhapsody in Blue.”
“RIGHT ON!” someone close to the stage hollered. Danny joined Sam, keeping a steady beat while Sam put his body into the music, taking short breaks to wipe his hair out of the way.
On his side of the stage, Jake retrieved a rag from one of the stage hands and tried to wipe off the fretboard. Next to him, Josh gulped down a cup of something that tasted citrusy and scrunched up his face.
“Ah, that stings.”
“Hey,” Jake tried to get his attention.
“Hmm?”
“I’m glad we’re doing this.��
“I sure as hell didn’t have this penciled in my calendar for today, but I’m glad we’re doing it as well.”
Sam was nearing the end of his interlude, so Jake and Josh returned to their designated spots on stage and got ready.
“Hold somebody close for this next one,” Josh addressed the crowd. “It doesn’t matter if you know them or not.”
Sam started playing “Light My Love” as puddles began to form on the wooden stage. Out in the crowd, it was split between people trying to shield their heads with jackets, and the more free-spirits, who embraced the rain with arms wide open, prancing around in the forming mud. Josh nearly missed his cue because he was so distracted by a group of young men who had started diving in the mud like it was a slip n’ slide. He made a mental note that he wanted to join them when their set was done.
“Your mind is a stream of colors, extending beyond our sky, a land of infinite wonders, a billion light years from now.”
“Woah,” one of the people who had joined the crowd forming on the side stage breathed out. Whoever these guys were, they were good.
“JJ!” a woman hollered from the sea of faces. “I love you!”
Jake snickered and lifted a thumbs up to the crowd, which Josh mirrored.
When they reached the “woah-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh” part of the song, all four of them started to collectively choke up. Led by Josh, it looked like the entire crowd was waving their arms back and forth to the beat, singing in unison. Their voices overpowered the music and, in that moment, Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny had never felt more connected to people or, really, more human for that matter.
The song slowed to a stop and Josh had to take a second to collect himself. Jake was glad that the rain was hiding the tears that had started to pour down his cheeks.
“HOW ARE WE ALL DOING?” Josh shouted into the microphone once he was composed.
“ALL RIGHT!” the people shouted back.
“Champagne, caviar, anyone?” Josh couldn’t help but lean back into the microphone to joke. He was certain that Jake, Sam, and Danny were rolling their eyes behind him, but he didn’t care. It was a great joke, no matter the venue or audience.
Josh was pretty confident that they were past their 30 minutes, but no one was coming from the side of the stage to stop them, so he moved back to have a brief meeting with the rest of the band.
“Everyone doing good?” he checked in. Danny looked as if he had just cannon balled into a lake based on how drenched he was, but he was quick to give a thumbs up. People in the 60s really knew how to enjoy music. The number of people he had seen air drumming along with him made him feel like he was on cloud 9.
“Are we doing Broken Bells?” Sam asked. The paint was now entirely washed away from his clothes, leaving his skin looking like a rainbow had vomited on him.
“I think we should,” Jake piped in. He had ditched the Sgt. Pepper jacket during “Light My Love” so, like Danny, his chest was out and glistening with moisture in the glow of the stage lights.
Sam let out a chortle. “I didn’t realize how many songs I’d be doing on the keys tonight.”
“You’ll get to Phil’s bass soon,” Josh promised.
Out of seemingly nowhere, a woman hustled on stage and stood on her tiptoes to speak into the microphone Josh had left unattended. The guys whirled around to see what was going on.
“Jenny Martin, your dad is looking for you,” the woman read off a piece of paper. “Come to the front entrance, Jenny Martin.”
The woman turned back around and mouthed a quick apology to the band before rushing back to the wing. Josh reapproached the microphone and gave it a testing tap.
“Shame on you Jenny Martin,” he said with a look of mischief, which earned some laughs. “This one is Broken Bells. It’s about,” Josh paused for a second. “Broken Bells.”
It was incredible that the rain hadn’t let up for a second since “Tears of Rain.” What was even more incredible though was that they were still playing in spite of the weather disruption, and no one in the audience looked to be in any rush to leave and seek shelter. Josh was pretty sure that he would have dipped for one of the vans after a couple of songs, but he had a feeling that they were keeping the audience captivated by their music, which was the highest praise a musician could receive.
Jake had requested a stool before their set so he could comfortably play the acoustic part of “Broken Bells,” but a stagehand had told him that the best they could do was a rug. Because Jake didn’t want his pants to get more soaked than they already were, he sucked it up and played the acoustic standing, which took some adjusting.
The part that he hadn’t considered was how to pull off the switch from acoustic to electric before his guitar solo. Pete Townshend’s guitar was sitting off to the side of the stage on its stand, but none of the stagehands knew any of their music or, consequently, when Jake needed the other guitar.
“Shit,” Jake whispered to himself as Sam started his solo on the keys. He knew he had about twenty seconds to get himself situated, which was usually more than enough time when he had a professional handing him his guitar from off stage. Doing everything on his own though was going to be complicated.
Josh let out a call in surprise when Jake tore the strap off of the acoustic and rushed offstage. To an unknowing spectator, it looked like Jake was about to empty the contents of his stomach off to the side but, in reality, he was rushing around in a blind panic, reaching for the electric guitar and cable, thrusting it into the amp. It was kind of Sam to improv on the spot and add a few extra bars to his solo, buying Jake enough time that he could run back to center stage right as he ripped into the first note of his solo.
“I thought you had dipped,” Josh covered the microphone to call to his twin.
“Never,” was all Jake could manage to gasp out.
While Jake, Sam, and Danny played their hearts out in the instrumental part of the song, Josh jogged to the side stage where Dave was standing with Joan Baez, a few guys from Santana, and Ravi Shankar.
“Enjoying yourselves?” he asked them.
“Who are you guys?” Greg Rolie asked in amazement.
“Just a little group from Michigan,” Josh shrugged. He didn’t know what else to say.
Joan Baez was squinting at Sam.
“I think that’s the kid who cornered me earlier,” she realized. “I didn’t know he could play.”
Josh made a mental note to tell Sam about that later, grinned back at the legends who were looking at him in awe, and returned to the microphone to close out the song.
“THANK YOU!” he called out. Once again, no one was making any effort to remove them from the stage, so Josh turned to Sam.
“Grab the bass, Sammy. It’s your time to shine.”
Sam leapt up from his bench and bound to the back of the stage so he could retrieve Phil Lesh’s bass and plug it into his own amp. Jake watched on in concern, keeping his fingers crossed that Sam wouldn’t get electrocuted in the process. All seemed well with him, since he ducked out of his jean jacket and strapped the bass on, stepping up closer to the front of the stage. Josh gave him a thumbs up and Sam smiled back.
“ONE TWO THREE!” Sam counted them in. They started “When the Curtain Falls,” immediately ejecting the crowd out of the earthly, philosophical music into a more lively, head banging song.
“Whoo!” they could hear Carlos Santana shout from the wing of the stage. “Now that’s rock n’ roll!”
Jake couldn’t help but turn around and throw him a pick when he had a break in his riff, which Carlos caught with a loud laugh.
Through the buckets of rain, Danny watched as some people in the crowd started climbing up the light towers to get a better view. The people who were visible from the stage due to the lights were all collectively throwing themselves around in the mud, cheering and jumping with Josh, who was screaming into the microphone.
“When the curtain falls, walk the hollow walls, babe, once a valley doll, now you’re not at all, no!”
Sam had had his doubts about playing “When the Curtain Falls” live at Woodstock but, watching the audience’s reception, he was glad that Jake had suggested it. Usually they had “Safari Song” and “Highway Tune” in their setlist to prove to people that they knew how to rock, but “When the Curtain Falls” had an extra heaviness to it that felt fitting for the occasion.
“DO IT JAKEY, DO IT!” Josh shrieked into the microphone. Jake launched forward and started to shred like he had never shredded before, hitting a brain-bending line of notes up and down the fretboard, bending the strings this way and that. By the time he was done with his solo and started to close out the song, it almost looked like the guitar was smoking.
“Now I’m warmed up,” Jake grinned around at everyone on stage when the song finished. Josh took that as his cue to introduce their last song of the evening. He would have played forever if given the choice, but he also realized that there was still a line of musicians waiting for their own turn on the stage. It would be cruel to steal such an opportunity from them.
“This is our last one for tonight,” Josh shared with the crowd. People shouted in protest. “I know, I know,” Josh laughed. “But you’ve got a lot of great musicians up ahead. Now, we want to take you on a journey to end things right. My brother over there, Jake, is a rock n’ roll sherpa, and he’s gonna lead the way. Right Jake?”
Jake gave him a big thumbs up.
“Take it away!” Josh shouted. Jake began “The Weight of Dreams” and the crowd was immediately silenced by the hypnotizing riff that echoed over the fields. Josh started to sing his part and, as he moved into the second chorus, he could feel his voice struggling to catch up. He had been testing his vocal chords that evening, but it was mostly because he was so caught up in the moment, he forgot to tone it down in some parts. His voice started to rasp on his last line, and he backed away from the microphone to clear his throat while Danny began to thunder away on the drums in the middle section. Josh gave a silent prayer that his voice would remain intact and, after sucking in a deep inhale, he started to scream at the top of his lungs over Danny’s drums. His voice warbled a bit but the audience started to cheer with him, so he was able to finish his note strong and step back to give Jake center stage as he began his 12 minute long solo.
Josh stared at his twin shaking his wet hair around and hitting every note perfectly, and then his eyes tracked back to Danny, who was likewise putting his entire body into his part, from crashing his cymbals to stomping on the bass pedal. Sam threw his head back as he leaned into the long, booming chords that he was playing on the keys. Overhead, a thunder strike clapped and, off in the distance, lightning flashed, brightening everyone’s faces for a split second. The time between the thunder sped up as Jake went deeper into his solo and, by the time he reached the climax, lightning was dancing directly over their heads. If Josh didn’t know that it was his brother in front of him, he would have assumed he was a god, controlling the sky with his guitar.
Josh remembered that he could be doing something during Jake’s solo and broke out of his stunned trance to fetch a tambourine that he had found unattended in the grass earlier in the day. He jogged to the far end of the stage and held a hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the rain as he tried to look out at the audience. It was hard to make out much since it had gotten pretty dark, but each time lightning struck, their faces lit up briefly and, from what he could tell, they all collectively looked transfixed. Jake literally had the entire field of people in the palm of his hand. Josh started to smack around the tambourine and found a spot he was content with at the back of the stage, near Danny’s kit, where he could make his commotion without stealing the spotlight.
It seemed like Jake never wanted to leave the stage, since his 12 minute solo turned into a 20 minute one. If the audience was lost in his music, Jake might as well have been too, since his fingers ran up and down the fretboard, playing melodies Josh had never heard before. Considering they had a 16 hour studio session before traveling back in time, Jake’s endurance was unbelievable. His fingers should have fallen off ages ago.
Jake started to slow down around 25 minutes into his solo because he really was feeling on the verge of toppling over, and Josh putting a hand on his back was the nail in the coffin, confirming that it was time to finish things. He entered the last few bars of the song, ripping out the chords like a final blast of energy. It took him a while to catch his breath and muse at the fact that the audience was entirely silent, as if waiting for his next move. He let them wait a few more beats and then played the last part of the song.
The final note hung suspended in the air for what felt like minutes before fading into silence.
“Fuck yeah,” Jake whispered to himself.
Danny, Sam, and Josh moved to the front of the stage to join Jake, signaling that their set was finished, and the silence was quickly replaced with an ear-piercing ovation. Jake held up Pete Townshend’s guitar after unhooking it from its amp, and then they all took a bow. Jake knew he would be tempted to start playing if he stuck around any longer, so he took one last look out at the crowd, released a deep exhale, and then rushed off stage.
Danny, Sam, and Josh were quick to join him. It was still dark and hard to see, but from what Jake could make out, they all looked as though they had run a marathon. In a sense, with the set they had just played, they basically did.
“Holy fucking shit,” Dave greeted them, his face elated. “What the fuck was that?”
“Just some stuff we’ve been working on,” Jake tried to sound humble.
“I’ve never heard anything like that before,” Dave exclaimed. “I mean, that was far out. Like, far out. These people are lucky they got in for free.”
“Hey, nice playing out there,” Joan Baez approached Sam, who looked on the verge of passing out from surprise. “Even if you probably pushed my spot in the lineup out by an hour.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sam’s eyes widened with worry.
“Don’t be,” Joan Baez laughed. “I don’t mind when the music is good. I do hope you’ll catch my set, though.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Sam was quick to assure her. Joan motioned behind Sam to the line of people who wanted to talk with him and his bandmates.
“Looks like you’ve got some fans to address,” she said with a beam. With that, she whisked away, leaving Sam dumbfounded.
“I love it here,” he mused to himself.
“Dude,” Danny tried to hop on Sam’s back, making his knees buckle at his weight. “Michael Lang invited us to an afterparty. All the other bands are gonna be there.”
“No fucking way,” Sam’s voice cracked in disbelief. He had to drop Danny back down because he was too exhausted to carry him after their set, but instead opted to squeeze him in a hug. “I can’t believe we did that.”
Jake joined them with a can of beer in one hand and a rag around his other.
“I popped like seven blisters and didn’t even realize it,” he motioned down to the rag when he caught Danny and Sam inspecting it. “I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow.”
“I’ve already signed twelve autographs,” Josh announced with pride as he joined their circle.
“Did you do your legit autograph?” Danny couldn’t help but ask.
“I signed it as Harry Dickface,” Josh winked at Danny, who shook his head with a bright smile.
“Do you guys want to take a seat somewhere?” Dave approached the group. “I’m sure you all could use some rest. We’ve got a tent in the back.”
“Yeah,” Josh nodded. “I think I need to unwind.”
“Agreed,” Danny, Sam, and Jake echoed.
They needed a lot of time to process everything.
#greta van fleet#gvf#jake kiszka#josh kiszka#sam kiszka#danny wagner#gvf fanfiction#gvf fanfic#greta van fic#greta van fleet fanfiction#woodstock#carlos santana#joan baez#greg rolie
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I need a remake of Dharma and Greg but Josh Kiszka is Dharma
#this is a need#I’m literally rewatching the show for the first time in years#dharma and greg#greta van fleet#gvf#josh kiszka#josh gvf
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I’m SCREAMING
#danny wagner#danny gvf#greta van fleet#stranger things#eddie munson#i cannot believe#baby who’s telling you you look like old Greg 🤣#also why does this man use so many ellipses#out here typing like my aunt
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Hannah Emily Anderson and Katie Boland
#film#Joan Carr-Wiggin Anna Chancellor#Greg Wise#Hannah Emily Anderson#Hermione Norris#James Fleet#John Hannah#Katie Boland#Love of My Life#Merran Carr-Wiggin#Scott Cavalheiro
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Into Your Arms
Summary: Your life is disrupted after a chance meeting with the 11th street kids, and despite your better sense you find yourself drawn to the chaos.
Pairing: Vigilante (Adrian Chase) x Fem!Reader
Warnings: *All of my works are M for mature so 18+ please; language, language, language, canon typical violence, sexual themes, canon-typical violence, gore descriptions, blood mentions, TW some PTSD related stuff
Word Count: 2.3k
Request: can I please request an Adrian Chase x fem!vet!reader...
a/n: I have the flu! Hope this makes sense 🙈 eep! edited to add the entire tag list
Master List | Tag List Form | Adrian Chase Master List
With tears in your eyes, you stared down the barrel of a gun at the motley group in front of you. They were talking, their voices filling the small space, but you couldn’t make out their words over the roaring in your ears, over the man who was holding that gun and had said without an ounce of remorse that he was planning to kill you.
You’d been intubating an English bulldog when he came in with a busted up eagle–of all things. Your breath stuttered as he raised his voice, the force of it causing him to move the gun. It was funny. You were about to die and all you could think about was that dog in the back.
Dr. Hurwitz had managed to keep the eagle alive, but it hadn’t been enough for the man in front. He’d kill you all because you’d seen his face. With blurry vision you looked away from the barrel of the gun and at the man himself. He was dorky–in that boy next door way. In a different life, you’d consider him handsome. He reminded you of the goofy labradors you saw each day at the clinic, with his big eyes and soft hair.
Fear gripped your chest, forcing your breath out in small, panicked puffs. You were only dimly aware of Greg, one of the other nurses, whispering at you to “get it the fuck together.”
“Hey. What the fuck are you saying back there?” The man with the gun asked, looking between you and Greg.
“Just trying to calm her down; she’s hysterical.” Greg told him, and as if you’d rehearsed it, another sob wracked through you.
“Oh, god. Are you okay?” One of the women asked, her voice laced with concern.
“Of course not, she thinks she’s about to die.” The other man answered, the one who had come in the beginning with the eagle.
You felt worse than you had before, but now your brain was soaking up the visual information you’d missed. Despite his gun still trained on you, your eyes were drawn to Vigilante–that’s what they had called him.
“What other choice do we have besides killing this veterinarian, this nurse, this nurse, and this male nurse?”
“You can just say two nurses, man.”
“If I just say “nurse,” I think people will imagine it as a woman.”
“He’s standing right there! We don’t have to imagine anything.
“It must be weird, waking up every day and being a male nurse.”
“You’re a fucking busboy!”
“Oh great! Now we definitely have to kill them, because you’re giving stuff away about my secret identity!”
“Do we really have to kill these people?”
The pause of silence was too much for you, the shared uncertain looks between the group. A small whimper left your lips, and you cursed the sound.
You had higher hopes for yourself than this. You never imagined you’d be in this scenario, of course, but when it came down to it, you’d thought you would be able to handle yourself. Instead, you’d turned into a sobbing fool at the first sign of danger. You weren’t even begging. You just stood there, metaphorically pissing yourself and waiting to die.
You willed yourself to stand straighter, but kept your arms up in the air. You’d die with a bit of dignity, even if you’d had to summon every ounce of courage and self to do so.
“No,” The blonde began and that was all you needed to deflate completely. The false bravado simply slipped from you as fast as you’d mustered it. The fleeting confidence roared in your ears, drowning the rest of the conversation. You let yourself be jostled around, ziptied, and left in the waiting room of the vet office.
Your life gets simpler after that. You keep working at Dr. Hurwitz’s office; thanks to a considerable bump in pay, for not leaving (re: suing), you were finally able to drive a few hours to the coast for a little relaxation. You heal. The journey is as odd as the day that precipitated it. You settle back into your routine and can watch your regular procedurals–and don’t bat an eye at the guns, violence, and death. But a man talking too loudly at you in the office, his tone mean and cutting, and you’d crumple to tears in the staff room pawing at your phone for the speed dial number of your therapist.
But it’s good, your life is good because it’s the one you didn’t expect to have. You take nothing for granted, and you spare yourself no criticisms. You learn to love yourself, and the inspiration of finally liking who you are seeps into every facet of your life. You take up photography as a new hobby, and you start going to the gym. It’s there you find a class in self-defense, and though you aren’t kidding yourself about your skill level against some supe, you figure you owe it to yourself to at least learn how to throw a punch.
You’re leaving class one night, taking a gulping sip from your water bottle, admiring the new ache you’d gotten from your sparring partner, when the street goes sideways. You hit your elbow hard, and barely register the clatter of your bottle and bag hitting the street. By the time you catch your breath, the attacker has made himself known.
For a brief, blinding moment, you don’t move. Your chest is seized, your blood sluggish in your veins. You want to scream, run, fight, but you can’t move your stupid, useless body. A flash of blue, a great clap, and a spray of red followed by the kind of primal scream only the dying can make–and then you were being lifted up.
Your elbow was a throbbing scream as your feet hit the pavement, right side up.
“You okay?” A man asked, though muffled from beneath a blue and black facial mask, you’d know that timbre and cadence of that voice anywhere. You want to scream, kick, spit–something to show this asshole that you aren’t the same scared girl anymore. But he’s lifted your arm to inspect the damage, and he’s taken his glove off. His touch is so gentle, the softest caress, that you actually answer his insane question.
“Yes.” Your voice is a hushed whisper, though not a scared, timid thing.
“That was a sucker punch, by the way. You totally coulda kicked his ass.” You hissed as he pressed a particularly tender spot, and though he hadn’t seemed to be paying attention to you, his head snapped up. “That hurt? Oof, yeah. That’s a bitch. Let me take you to the hospital. We’ll take the Vigimobile.” He rambled off, nearly sing-song, and began to tug your other arm behind him. “I’m Vigilante, the car is mine, obviously. D’uh.” He paused only when I pulled back from him.
“What’s up?” He asked, looking around, like there might be a second thug.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” You told him, exasperated.
“Why not?” His head cocked to the side, and you have to literally shake the image from your head as you remember thinking of him as a labrador.
“Why not?” You echo, your voice nearing hysterical.
“Your elbow is dislocated, at least. Worst case, fractured. I’m the only one here. Your phone is smashed, and you don’t have car keys in your bag.” He lists off items by raising a finger with each point.
“You tried to kill me four months ago!” You scream at him, throwing your hands up to accentuate your point, remembering the pain in your elbow too late. The sharp pain that slices through your body leaves a fuzzy ring around your vision, and you see Vigilante take a step towards you as the world tilts sideways for the second time of the night.
You groan as you pull yourself from that inky abyss, and smack your lips against the paper dry feeling of your tongue.
“Where the hell am I?” You manage to croak out, and the shuffle of feet is the only indication you get that other people are around.
“Hospital.” A man’s voice tells you, and you have the funniest feeling you know the voice. The gentle comfort of that wraps around your delirious mind and pulls you back down.
The next time you awake it’s because of the sun. The windows were left open, meaning that the bright rays of the morning hit you full force. You blink harshly against the intrusive light, and remember being attacked. Fearful of the state of your body, you gingerly begin testing your toes and slowly you work your way up your body. You’re twitching your fingers when a knock at the door startles you.
You don’t know the person standing in the frame, but you wish you did. He’s holding a balloon, flowers, and a stuffed dog. Confusion paints your face, and he waves sheepishly.
“Hi, you up?” He asks, shuffling closer hesitantly.
“Just barely.” You murmur back, shifting in the bed.
“They gave you a lot of pain medicine last night.” The man tells you. You wish you knew more about this whole bizarre situation. You couldn’t remember anything over the pounding in your head.
“That’s right, because I…”
“Your elbow. It was dislocated, which is better than a fracture. But you did tear a tendon, which means you’ll be in a sling for a few weeks.” He explains, fidgeting with the stuffed dog.
“Did I have surgery?” You push, figuring he’ll at least answer some questions.
“No, no. I asked them to monitor you overnight.”
“Why?”
“You…you might not remember me, but we’ve met before. I’m Adrian, and I threatened to kill you once.” You blink at his deadpan, waiting for the punchline. But you know he isn’t joking, somehow. You know him. He’s the one from the vet clinic, the one who saved you from the guy last night.
“Are you stalking me?” You ask, wondering partially if he’s here to finish the job. He laughs, too loudly.
“A little bit. I feel horrible about it.”
“The stalking?”
“No. When I tried to kill you. It was a precaution. But I’ve changed my mind about that. About a lot of things, actually. Anyway, I just wanted to say sorry for all of that, and I hope you feel better soon. I brought you some stuff.” He explains before dumping the stuffed dog in your lap and putting the other stuff on the nightstand. You try not to gape at him.
“Okay, I’m going to head out.”
“You just got here.” You say, surprising both of you.
“You want me to stay?”
“For some reason, yeah. Would you?” With his eyes wide, he nods and takes the chair beside your bed.
“How’s the eagle?” You ask, voice soft and unsure. Adrian picks up the conversation easily though and is soon animatedly telling you all about the bird's latest antics.
You’re not sure how Adrian became such a regular part of your day, but you find yourself waiting for his visit all the same. He doesn’t have a pet, but he comes by the vet clinic and asks for your advice on all his potential pets everyday. He also tells you about his day, his night, and anything else he can think of. When he isn’t talking to you in person, he’s blowing your shit up with memes and weird emojis.
The idea of seeing him every single day would have made you want to call your therapist before, but after he saved you, his choices began to make sense. Maybe you were making excuses, but he had become such a stable part of your life that you began to love his daily visits. When he missed one, which happened from time to time, you were miserable. He always made up for it, though.
“I’ve got a cinnamon chai for the apple of my eye!” His voice rang out, drawing you from your small cubicle to the front. Your smile grew when you took him in, and his own was full on beaming.
“Adrian, you didn’t have to get me a drink.” You scolded, secretly pleased as you sipped from the steaming cup.
“Course I did, I wanna do that stuff for you.” He told you bashfully. You wanted those things too, even if it felt insane to consider.
“Actually, I had something I wanted to ask you.” He began, and you watched as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “Would you wan…I mean, I would like to, if you want to, uhm. Dinner?”
“Sure, Adrian, I’d love to.”
“Sick. I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“Okay, seven, it is.” You agree, taking another sip of your drink, and watch as he leaves. He must think you’ve looked away because he fist pumps into the air. You stifle your laugh and go back to work, thinking very hard about what you were going to wear.
@michi-reads @strawberriesandknives @uncle-eggy @fictionlandslanddreams @uwiuwi @lostinwinderland314 @kidd3ath @maplefire18 @zekegorilla @hypnoash @greenxtea0 @myguiltypleasures21 @Goblynnrockz @racetrackheart @ticharluv @likeficsinthewnd
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The Aaron Hotchner Mega-masterlist. Part 1/?
Hi!! I wanted to make a sort of recommendation list for some Aaron Hotchner writers in this gorgeous community and what makes their work so special in my eyes. Please note this list is not exhaustive by any means. If you would like me to add you or your work to this list, please just fire me a message and I'll run through your masterlist or fics to see what you're all about <3
please note, this is a way to support writers on here. So play nice.
@honeypiehotchner - (K) an extensive masterlist, mixing fluff, smut and angst or hurt/comfort, they use the most stunning imagery and descriptions to really make you understand how reader's feeling in each moment. She never writes hotch out-of-character, able to make him sound exactly like himself, no matter how far off-canon the story takes place. The dialogue always feels like real chemistry between real people. I also adore how they write hotch x autistic!reader. Such a beautiful understanding and patience and love between them. I really enjoy K's ability to show how thoughtful & considerate he is of his lover's needs. mostly fem!reader fics, some gn!reader. K's masterlist.
@show-your-fangs - (A) does an amazing job of writing Aaron's mental battles with himself as he moves outside of his comfort zones. She can orchestrate such a sea of emotions in every scene I read, and I can never pick out even one word in the entire fic that seems out of place. Not only can she beautifully capture every shift in emotion or thought process throughout these fics, but jesus christ can she make Aaron Hotchner the sexiest motherfucker on earth. The scenes feel so natural and just ooze raw sex appeal. Marvellous work, not every piece is linked in this masterlist but i highly recommend giving her blog a good old search.
@hotchs-big-hands - (A) doesn't have many works currently released, but oh boy do we get quality over quantity. Her three part series 'what did you call me?' is stunning. She takes her time to really make me feel what the reader is feeling and it's so easy to step into reader's shoes. Not to mention that she manages to infuse suave and sexy into every hair on Aaron's head. Every step this man takes seems to leave me breathless because he is just so smooth and sure of himself, but simultaneously we get a glimpse of the war going on in his head. Most works are plus!size!reader (female reader) but some gn!reader works as well. A's masterlist.
@greg-montgomery - (Fay) can make a splinter in your thumb feel like a warm cozy blanket, every domestic or blissful or lovestruck situation you can dream of with Hotch has been written, and made to feel like hot cocoa on a rainy day. She does a gorgeous job of writing a brief, fleeting moment with him like it's something you'll remember forever. Fay's masterlist.
@ssahotchnerr - (Katie) has a beautiful way of melting readers hearts with the softest little moments that can be shared between two people. Whether Aaron's changing your tyre or building your a bookshelf, the tiny little details can make it feel like the most heartwarming thing a man can do. She really captures that certain unplaceable Hotch quality in every single scenario Katie's masterlists.
@reidersspencer - (Miso) is always a breath of fresh air, her fic ideas are creative and fun, she is very active, always working on several hotch fics/blurbs at once. Miso responds to every request within days, having produced something sweet enough to make you prediabetic, she does a fantastic job of keeping hotch, well, hotch, with just that extra sparkle in his eye as he looks at reader. Miso's masterlist.
@slutforsilverfoxes - (she/her), I truly think sf2 could find inspiration in a glass of water. Her fics are so original, and she has a way of making sure the dialogue never feels forced or unnatural, and the chemistry is thick in the air between her characters. You can always see just how reader and aaron became drawn to one another, she's always able to make me envy just how much our star-crossed-lovers have in common. She's able to make every character's actions seem deliberate and measured, and the imagery adds so much depth to her scenes. slutforsilverfoxes' masterlist.
@canuck-eh - (she/her), wrote some of the most beautiful, delicate, authentic, raw hotch fics I've ever had the pleasure of reading. Some of her works are as long as 20k words, but not even one of those words is wasted. The most beautiful characterisations and imagery. Hotch never feels out-of-character and these fics deconstruct him so well, giving you a beautiful look inside his mind. Please note, this account no longer writes for hotch, as of right now. So please do not run to her inbox asking for more. But I promise you, her masterlist is enough to sustain you for a lifetime. Canuck’s masterlist.
@montyfandomlove - (Mon) does a gorgeous job of making your wildest fantasies come true. Her response to every request will both melt your heart and make your pussy throb. Mon writes Aaron as both smooth and sure of himself, but also sensitive and self-conscious. She can use any situation to bring that old man to life, making him feel younger and more carefree in the process. Mon's version of Hotch feels so true to himself, and don't we all love him that way? Mon's masterlist.
@hotchs-bitch - (T) does such a beautiful job of breaking my heart. She has a real talent for building angst until my eyes well up. She writes so realistically about Hotch's struggles and triumphs with love, but also the happy little moments in his life with you that make it worth living. Lovely characterisation of the man himself. T's masterlist.
@chateauhotchner - (Andi) also loves to break my heart and make me cry. But, the angst is so beautifully tragic. Wonderful imagery and she's even been capable of making me want to smack my favourite man in the world. Andi's masterlist.
@hotchs-babygirl - (Zeina) can always capture the thoughtfulness and gentleness of our Aaron Hotchner. Makes me want to squish his silly little cheeks and stare into his big shiny doe eyes forever. Zeina's masterlist.
@alluring-andrayav - (Andraya) this girl likes to not only have Hotch break my heart but also stomp it into smithereens and spit on it in the process. Levels of angst I can never quite recover from but it's done so well I can't bring myself to hate her for it. Andraya's masterlist.
@whiskey-bumblebee - (Hannah) loves to give me cavities by making our man so sweet and beautifully himself. Hotch-in-love is a different beast, and one that Hannah captures really well. Also, some sweat-inducing smut here and there that I cannot fail to mention. Hannah's masterlist
@honeybrowne - (she/her) manages to write the very best and worst parts of dating aaron hotchner, having the most attentive, thoughtful, considerate boyfriend is of course a pleasure greater than words can say, but at the same time, he can only ever give you half his time and he tends to eat away at himself for it. A great cross-section of this man. honeybrowne's masterlist.
@hotchscvm - (Neens) writes some of the most carefree, caution-to-the-wind, sexy aaron we all need sometimes. But she also doesn't miss when she writes the soft moments between you two, the little things that make you fall in love with him (and get butterflies). Neens' masterlist.
@dudeitiskarev - (Cat) does such a fantastic job of creating whole worlds in each of her stories. She paints the most beautiful pictures of her scenes with each word, I never have trouble getting a crystal clear mental image of what's taking place. That's not to even mention how well she sees right through the many layers of Aaron. note that I believe cat is retiring from writing for Aaron but please cherish all of her works, they are gorgeous. Cat's Masterlist.
@masterwords - (Angela) has written hundreds of thousands of words about our Hotch, although most of her works are for hotchgan (hotch x derek morgan). In the years she's spent writing for these two, it is clear she knows both of their minds even better than her own. Every single romantic situation/scenario I can cook up in my imagination has already been written in completion by Ang and it is just amazing. Even if she breaks your heart, she'll usually put it back together even better than before. Angela's masterlist. (this is the hotch-only masterlist, the hotchgan list is here)
@ssahoodrathotchner - (Andi) writes the most feel-good fluff, if you just want to hold aaron in your arms or have him look at you oh-so-longingly, snuggle up nice and warm and read some of Andi's work. Mostly gn!reader <;3 Andi's masterlist.
@angelhotchner - (Marl) I do NOT see enough people freaking out on the daily about these works. An awesome range of gn!reader & fem!reader both sfw & nsfw. Like, reading the titles of these fics alone should clue you into just how stunning most of these works are to read. I highly highly recommend a deep dive. Marl's masterlist.
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Again. There is definitely still two hundred blogs I want to add to this list, and I will as time goes on add to this because the talent and love and passion being poured into loving on this man is so staggering to me. I hope you've found at least one blog on this list that you maybe didn't know of before, or that it's a reminder for you to check out some writers you already know of.
If your name made it on this list, please know I adore you. If your name didn't make it on this list, please know I probably still adore you, and I will almost certainly get there in time. <3 I really just want an excuse to tell a bunch of writers why I fell in love with their work, so! if you have another writer in mind, please just drop their username or info in my inbox and I will get to work.
#Rome's recs#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotch hotchner#fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfiction#TALENT#RAW TALENT#come and see 'em!
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What do you think about it is about Kendall that’s it’s like, of course he’s the only one with a real friend?
It's lowkey one of my favourite choices on the show, anon, just because I think it's so revealing in more ways than one. Like, it makes sense, not just because of who Kendall is, but also who his siblings are, and the different ways they navigate their way through the world.
Interestingly, I think Connor and Shiv actually have the clearest boundary (or hurdle, depending on how you look at it) when it comes to fostering friendships, and while I think those things are different, I think they're both steeped in these factors of them as characters that shape their experiences of adulthood.
I think Connor's stems from an extremely disrupted childhood between his mother's mental health, her institutionalisation, his father's absence and reappearance, and then his being pushed into a parentified role to the golden trio at a formative age (canon explicitly tells us that too! Camping trips, fishing trips, fulfilling the father duties at Shiv's wedding before Logan decides to show up!) when he should've been away at college building his own relationships, in order to feel he had any sort of place in his family.
Similarly, I think Shiv has been soaked in hatred for her own gender since she's been born. Her relationship with her mother is strained and seems to have been weaponised by her father, she likely went to an all girls school (Spence, I imagine, which is basically the all girls equivalent of Buckley, the all boys school we know Kendall went to) and her own misogyny hampered any genuine friendship attempts. I think Shiv probably had frenemies, but nothing deeply meaningful, because vulnerability and emotional honesty is something she can't allow herself if she wants to survive in a male-dominated household festering in a male-dominated industry. I think male friendships were off the table in that sense too because Shiv seems to have always sought power in whatever way she could, and the two things she has to exert power are her name and her sexuality and at least her sexuality is hers.
I think Roman's a little harder to put a pin in in that sense, because I think he's a little bit of both of them, and a whole lot his own thing. I think he's experienced a part of Connor's disrupted childhood by having been shipped away to school and for his physical abuse, and I think he's experienced a part of Shiv's self-loathing for a part of his identity he can't face up to, but I also think Roman on paper should have friends. Roman's funny and insightful and (most of the time) the right sort of mean, and he's no more self-defensive than the rest of them, but I think the reason comes down to the biggest difference between him and Kendall:
Roman can be honest without being vulnerable, whereas Kendall can be vulnerable without being honest.
Roman as a character isn't actually particularly duplicitous. He can absolutely be an asshole, but he doesn't play to what people want in the way that both Kendall and Shiv (and even to an extent, Connor) do. His moments of vulnerability though are rare, often private, often, still, fleeting and guarded, while his moments of honesty are more frequent, yet often just ugly and naked and there. He fronts to it, and takes it, and usually tells the other person to take it too, which is what he did with Gerri and Tabitha and even Lawrence way back at the start of the series.
Kendall's not an honest person, but he is someone who's inherently vulnerable, and I think it pulls people to him, despite themselves. We've seen it in real time with Naomi and even Greg, and retrospectively with Rava, Stewy and Frank. He can break, he can curl in a lap or bury a head in a shoulder while still telling half truths or nothing at all. God, probably one of the best examples is in 2.04 when he pulls Shiv into a hug while talking around what she actually wants to hear.
Kendall lets people mop up the blood while he either tries to hide, ignore or justify the wound, and I think that vulnerability lets people feel a degree of intimacy with him and protectiveness of him that becomes muddied as they discover that Kendall is inherently a dishonest person and an addict, as it seems most characters in this show have learnt the hard way. After all, discovering that he's not told you a whole truth doesn't erase the memory of the weight of his head against your shoulder.
#i kind of had two responses to this one anon#but i thought this was maybe the more interesting one?#because i do think their circumstances and personality types have been really formative in their ability to form relationships#i do also think a lot about birth order with the four of them though and how that shapes the way they engage with others#a part of that too is the fact that i think stewy and kendall met when they were little kids#(they met at buckley! it's kindy to ninth grade!)#(in theory they would've been six!)#and i like the idea of their friendship starting over something pretty innocuous#because you have no idea right?#and then at some point they just clearly became ride or die#kendall roy#roman roy#shiv roy#connor roy#hbo succession#succession meta
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Thinking about what a sweet, kind, silly and gentle hearted person Poe is until you piss him off and once that switch is flipped, he's a force to be reckoned with
Oh, did you mean? my most favorite? facet? of his character? that makes me lose my marbles? and also happens to be maybe my favorite character trope of all time? that? Okay I hope you were expecting an infodump because what-ho! that's what's happening, I have come prepared and with receipts, let's fucking go on how Poe Dameron is a goddamned force of nature and how the galaxy should be really fucking thankful his loyalty is first and foremost to the Resistance and to the Light, because if it wasn't...well, I'd dread to think, but it wouldn't be good for anyone else.
The fun thing for me, is that it has always been a part of Poe's character, right from The Force Awakens -- it's subtle, but it's there, hidden between the sassy quips in the face in danger and the professionality of Commander Dameron; little fleeting moments that tell you that Poe Dameron is not someone to be trifled with at all, including one of his very first scenes:
I'm 90% certain that Poe's gaze actually lands first on Tekka's body here, before lifting it up to glare at Ren - and that's more than just a defiant glare, that's a look of loathing. Which fits, considering that I do believe the Force Awakens novelization confirms that Poe rushes in without thinking, and acts on sheer anger/rage when he goes to shoot Ren after Ren kills Tekka.
(More lengthy thoughts under the cut, I was not kidding, I saved a dozen images for this).
And that look is far from the only moment in TFA that clearly goes "oh. yeah, Poe can be scary when he wants to be", there's this frankly delightful moment during the trench run when Poe sees a fellow pilot perish while covering him:
and then moments later, when Poe flies into the heart of Starkiller to destroy the oscillator, we get this shot:
that's far more than just determination/focus, he's angry. and he has every goddamned right to be - he was just held captive and tortured for (??) days, and this monstrosity just destroyed an entire fucking planetary system, and the very Republic that Poe has spent his entire adult life believing the inherent values of, that he thought could genuinely improve. Never mind the detail that Poe probably likely spent time on the Hosnian System, if he didn't live there temporarily during his time in the Defense Fleet.
But these shots makes it clear where the comic gets the idea from that the First Order might, y'know, actually be. A little bit terrified of Poe Dameron:
He's a serious threat, and ruthless when it comes to the First Order. People joke a lot about Poe being reckless, but I don't see a lot of recognition for the fact that he can be ruthless - he sees point b and dives straight at it, and he's absolutely relentless in his determination to take the First Order down.
The quickest possible way to enrage Poe is inaction or injustice. We see this clearly in the Last Jedi, when he believes Holdo is essentially leading them to their deaths and has thrown the Resistance away:
but we also see it as far back as Before the Awakening by Greg Rucka:
This conversation carries on for a page or so more, I think, with Poe arguing against the New Republic's decision to not act or investigate further (it's also what prompts him into going rogue to investigate on his own, which leads Leia into recruiting him for the Resistance).
And we've even seen it in material as recent as Free Fall, which means this is a character trait Poe has had his entire life:
(these do not paint my girl in a great light but like she's fucked up okay!! and being groomed into taking her mother's place it's fine, it's fine, she's my fucked up little blorbo)
anyway. so this is Poe when he's, probably about 16? 16 going on 17 here, and this is probably the angriest he's ever been considering how shocked he is about the chill in his own voice (which if you were ever curious why I say Poe's anger runs cold, it's because of this scene right here). He's so enraged by the injustice being carried out by Sotin, that he's genuinely - for the first time in the book - considering actually killing someone. And he gets into a screaming match about what the right decision is with Zorii.
(he also gets to punch Sotin later, by the way, if you even care. It's glorious. I love my favorite character who decides murder is okay if said murder is in question a guy who deals in the slave trade)
But also.
My favorite instance of this, ever, which rewrote my fucking goddamned brainchemistry in 2017 when I read it and made me have to step away from my computer and honest to god pace the length of my house to walk it off, is his confrontation with Terex in issue #13 of the Poe comics.
Because you know what?
This entire fucking exchange is personal, and almost/pretty much outright vindictive? Like at this point, Poe has solidly won this round - Terex has finally been defeated, and all Poe has to do is hand him over to the First Order. He knows, in doing so, Terex will likely be killed, and after who knows how long of Terex's bullshit meaning Poe couldn't trust his squadron, and the fact that L'ulo just died - well, Poe's not real broken up about it, which is fun in itself.
But then he asks Malarus if he can have a moment with Terex before he hands him over and Poe....uses that moment to gloat.
And y'all know me i don't use words like that for Poe but like. he kind of does? he asks a moment alone with terex specifically so that he can taunt Terex that he won, that Terex didn't beat him, and that in trying to take Poe down, Terex cost himself everything (a fact Poe happily rubs in his face), and even adds that "and when I give you to the First Order, I bet they'll take the rest."
So like. Yeah.
Poe knew full well they'd likely kill him, and spends the next few issues full heartedly believing that Terex was dead. And he taunts Terex with it here in this moment. It is TRULY glorious and honestly had 17 year old me's little head spinning because it was such a subversion of what I thought Poe would do -- but he did! He didn't try to figure out a way to spare Terex's life, and he used his final moments with Terex to make sure Terex knew that Poe was fully aware of what the choice he was making meant.
It's fucking DELICIOUS.
And I also love this panel from earlier into the issue:
Because again, it's a great illustration of how Poe can come off cold because of the art choices Phil Noto made here: look at the jacket. It's zipped up all the way to Poe's neck (a rarity for Poe), and just generally gives him this very closed off, cold appearance because he's at his wit's end in this issue, and he is angry about the circumstances Terex has forced him into.
So...yeah. Poe Dameron is a sweet, compassionate, silly guy who makes the worst fucking puns you've ever heard this side of the galaxy. He loves his droid, wears his mother's wedding ring with the intent to give it to the right partner someday, and loves all of his friends full heartedly and is generally the most tactile, affectionate person you will ever meet. He's pretty much everyone's best friend, because he has that kind of charisma and ability to make anyone feel like they're the most important person in the galaxy.
But Poe Dameron is also the man that the First Order seems genuinely intimidated/afraid of. He's the man that destroyed Starkiller base, and toppled the most powerful crime syndicate in the galaxy when he was just 17 years old. He is not someone you ever, ever want to piss off, because for all his warmth and love, Poe has an anger that runs cold, and when he hates something - it's just like when he loves something, he doesn't go half-way.
General Organa isn't the only Resistance general that can be absolutely terrifying in her own right as much as she can be gentle and loving. It's just that Leia's the only one anyone ever notices, because...well, Poe's silly and funny and usually kind of easy going.
And the fact that people underestimate him is what makes him that much more dangerous.
#userorb#ask box#my meta#poe dameron#listen. listen. he's SWEET and he's charming but also ongod the first order is /afraid/ of him and can you REALLY blame them#the best fucking trope in the world is the silly goofy soft characters that also can make that switch#to like. stealing from doctor who now. to going full oncoming storm#it's WONDERFUl#i love it so much we need more instances with this trope#flashing gif#death mention cw
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Searching my boxes of plastic crac as a friend likes to call it, I found the perfect henchman for Inquisitor Frost.
Meet Greg, a typical case of ''yup thats me, your probably wondering how I got into this situation''
A normal joe stuck travelling the galaxy with a maniac with too much power and an army that seems to replace losses at a rate that would rival a Tyranid hive fleet.
We will not talk the utterly batshit crazy squad of stormtroopers that also accompanies Inquisitor Strudd.
#warhammer 40000#40k#warhammer 40k#wargaming#Warhammer#inquisitor#inquisition#astra militarum#imperial guard#miniature painting#miniature#mini painting
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#sense and sensibility#sinn und sinnlichkeit#emma thompson#alan rickman#hugh grant#myriam francois cerrah#kate winslet#gemma jones#greg wise#harriet walter#imelda staunton#hugh laurie#tom wilkinson#imogen stubbs#robert hardy#james fleet#ang lee
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Okay so I know this fandom is basically dead, gone, and buried, but it's fall and after my yearly rewatch of Over The Garden Wall- I'm craving content!
Particularly, for my favorite character since the original airing almost a decade ago. Lorna! A little niche, but I loved her story and fleeting romance with Wirt, and would love to explore it! The primary idea I have would be some sort of AU where Lorna is cured of her ailment and is able to exit the unknown alongside Wirt and Greg. Perhaps she felt a little more bitter about Auntie Whispers not using the bell to cure her sooner, and decided she'd be better off pursuing her own future. Adjusting to life as a teen in the 80's rather than centuries in the past! Developing their relationship, sprinkling in some angst, etc etc. I'm honestly down for anything! Of course, we can also brainstorm and figure out other ideas for AUs, or even go for something more canon compliant. I'm just eager to play this out with anyone and everyone who connects! I tend to write between 3-6 chunky paragraphs, and I'm always weak for some good detailed writing!
DM me or add me on discord at pinkghostie if you’re interested!
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Video
Highball Kegg by Greg Brown
Via Flickr:
By summer 1999, the Southern Pacific's modest 25-unit fleet of SD70Ms had been in service for five years. For the most part, they had stayed along the I-5 corridor on the Pacific Coast, work for which they were originally purchased. In this view of SP 9820 departing Kegg in July, we can see that the unit's appearance is starting to reflect its service life.
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in my dreams i am tracing the outline of your face in the dark, my fingers lingering on the slope of your cheek, the curve of your jawline. i know every inch of your skin like a map engraved on my fingertips. when i wake up, i close my eyes and try desperately to return to that perfect, fleeting moment, but it's no use. i lay in bed and weep until the sun peeks over the horizon.
— greg santora
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